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 Like Coming HomeIt had been a long, long time. 1989 was my first year at the University of Florida. The Gators would go to a bowl that season, but the excitement that year was all about junior running back Emmitt Smith. I didn't get season tickets that year, but made my way to a couple of games and joined in with the bowing thousands yelling "Emmmm-ittttt, Emmmmm-itttt" when the superstar had somehow snuck his way through another tiny hole and batted away some defender with his pattented "you're bothering me" arm movement. Watching him, I guess, I finally got it. Football rocks. By 1990 I had shed any pretense of being from Tallahassee and therefore neutral about the state's college football teams; I was a Gator through and through and I was going to every home game despite the circumstances. Nice timing. Emmitt would leave a year early but Steve Spurrier would arrive and bring to Gainesville the best era of college football the University had ever witnessed. Ben Hill Griffin stadium became the Swamp, the offense became the Fun N Gun, Florida became SEC champions, and the Gators won game after game without the cheating tactics of the previous decade. And I was hooked further.
I moved from Gainesville to Baltimore, where boat sidious and I shared nearby cubicles. We had several memorable football watching outings together, perhaps most memorably when most of the Magnificent 7 (the 7 core members of the Experts) gathered to watch the 1997 Florida State-Florida game, but also there were New Year's Days that stretched on from Citrus Bowl to Sugar Bowl. We had always talked about taking in an Army-Navy game or a Florida State-Maryland game, but as kids entered our lives, we never quite got around to it. There was one relaxing Towson State game (a I-AA team of the Patriot League), one Maryland basketball game, and several trips to Camden Yards, but my D-IA exile continued. Until last Saturday.
Indeed they were, although as my story progresses, you'll see I began to wonder what was wrong with everyone else's instincts. We scored some sweet seats, and gratis as well. Climbing up the alumni side, quite near the 50 yard line, we made a wrong turn and ended up amidst the rabble in the bleacher seats. Fighting our way first in and then out of the row, we realized we had to climb higher. Row 64 to our left was much higher up than row 64 to our right, because to our right were the tightly-packed bleachers and to the left were the cushy and roomy orange chair-backs for the wealthy donars and the VIPs (and the moochers, like me). We would be higher up indeed, but far more comfortable.
Otherwise, we were in pretty good shape. In fact, one of our party was not much of a football fan, and she offered to get all of the concessions while we watched the action. And there was plenty of action. The Beavers scored early and often. The crowd really came alive when Derek Anderson completed a school-record 86-yard touchdown pass to James Newsome in the second quarter to make it 21-0, and Steven "Action" Jackson ran the ball well for over 100 yards. But the real story was the Beaver defense. The Beaves harassed Arizona quarterback Jason Johnson all day long, including a three-sack performance by player of the game Bill Swancutt. The Wildcats never crossed the 50 in the first half, and amassed only 93 yards on the day. This despite Oregon State coach Dennis Erickson having to yell at the referees all game long for ridiculous calls on our home town boys.
But what I really want to tell you about is this: is the experience of going to an Oregon State game the same as going to a Florida game? I'll say this: the Oregon State fans are a lot nicer than Gator fans. And I don't know if it was those cushy chair-back seats or what, but the amenities were quite nice, including some stadium guy circulating print outs of the half time statistics for all of us fans. But man, was it quiet in there. To be sure, Reser seats about 40% as many spectators as the Swamp. As you can see from the pictures, the student section isn't very tall at all, and the stadium doesn't make a complete oval. Instead, there are four disconnected sides; three of which aren't very high and the fourth of which is still not as tall as the oval in the Swamp. In fact, there are trees in two corners of the stadium... I'm talking real trees here, with fall colors and everything (note the fourth picture). But it wasn't just quiet as in amplitude of sound, it was quiet in terms of the existence of sound. To be able to hear yourself think when the other team has the ball is simply unforgiveable. There were times when I was the only one clapping prior to the start of a play. And good Lord, if you're thinking, well they're up 28-0 at half time, of course the crowd is going to quiet, well then, you are just part of the problem! There was just no go-for-the-kill lust among the Oregonians decked in orange. I can't tell you how many years I've taken off the life expectancy of my vocal cords just trying like hell to cause a delay of game or false start penalty on a Florida foe that was losing 28-0 just so we might get to watch a shut out. If it is not going to be a good game then for goodness sake try to make it as bad as possible! But hey, the important thing is they won, I suppose. And I had a damn good time. It was like coming home again. It wasn't coming home again, but at least it was a little like it. And maybe if Erickson can get them used to winning down there in Corvallis, maybe if they get an Emmitt one of these days, or a Weurffel, well, there's hope for them down there on the banks of the Willamette. They just don't quite get it yet. But I do. |
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The stadium grew too. Already the state's largest stadium, Florida Field routinely brought in more that 85,000 spectators in a town not quite that large. I graduated in 1993, the year of the Seminoles' first national title, but that didn't seem quite right, so I hung around for grad school. That meant four more seasons of season tickets. In my last Spring there, I would watch Florida win their only national title and would take part in the spontaneous parade on University Avenue. It was a fitting end to a glorious career (yes, I'm talking about mine!). I would always have my web page, but I was virtually retired as a college football ticket holder.
The crowd was roaring and the cannons were firing as I entered Reser stadium in Corvallis, Oregon, as if to say, "Webmaestro, welcome home. Welcome back to Saturday at a Division I-A football game." (I say "as if" because what the cannons were actually saying was "Hurry up, jackass, you've missed the opening drive and the Beavers just scored a touchdown!") In fact, listening to that roar and those cannons... two blasts followed a minute later by a single blast, I and my companions began to wonder if a touchdown had been scored or if we were missing out on some pregame enthusiasms. But something about the roar and the timing of the cannons made me say, "No, that's a touchdown. My instincts are coming back."
One benefit of these seats, I suppose, was that they were under the overhang. (The end zone seats, the corner seats, and the student seats across the field were open to the elements.) Beneficial because most games in Oregon in late Fall feature a cold light rain, and so the alumni side is well-protected from the rain. Problem was it protected us from the sun. It was an uncharacteristic November day for Corvallis: first, about 10 degrees colder than normal, but also cloudless and sunny. Our binoculars confirmed that the students were dressed in t-shirts, while we shivered under blankets. (A flashback of perhaps the only other time I was uncomfortable at a football game... that is, not including when I was uncomfortably hot... when Dan and I traveled to a road game at Auburn when an unexpected cold snap locked on the plains of Alabama with us in our typical Gainesville football attire.)
I'll tell you this: you won't see me picking Arizona again this season. I'm not sure Arizona could score against Reed College, and they don't even have a football team. (And if they did, I might be the starting middle linebacker.) The Beavers were good on defense, but Arizona was lousy on offense. As my companion Enriqueta said, the score really should have been about 50-0.