Any Given Saturday

Last week I blogged about my first day in Cedar Rapids, which involved a lot of driving, baseball, and Kevin Costner (he was there in spirit!). For this week I had many different thoughts floating in my head about what to write about: my experiences at the racquet center, the epic practice set I had with Tai, why the Decepticons should never lose to the Autobots.

After  weighing all ideas I decided to go a different route and write about my first football game at Coe. I was looking forward to the football game for a couple of reasons. Being from Texas I obviously enjoy football and this was going to be my first live game is something like four years. I’ll wait a moment for you to walk around the room and pick up all the little bits of gray matter after that mind blowing statement.

Okay, you may be wondering why I haven’t been to a football game in so long. This is because the school I attended in Texas didn’t have a football team. Once again, brain exploded. Pick up pieces. I’ll wait. In defense of my Alma Mater, the athletic programs there are very young, and I expect they’ll add football to athletics in the near future. Either that, or the state will force them to shut down for violation of the law.

Law Violated: We Messed With Texas.

                                                                                                                   

Now, I’ll get right into my game experience.

The football game was scheduled to begin at 1pm which left me with an entire morning to fill. Apparently, most football goers prepare for the game by a little American pastime called tailgating. I know this happens regularly at many NFL and large college games, but was not expecting it at Coe. Naturally you can imagine my surprise when I woke up Saturday morning at the crack of dawn…er 10:30 and saw what looked like a redneck wedding reception in progress (or a NASCAR convention depending on your preferred flavor). People were everywhere grilling, eating, drinking, and…sitting. When you think of it like that, it’s really not that different from a typical American meal. Eat. Drink. Sit. The perfect meal.

Game time snuck up on me quickly. In fact, so quickly I missed opening kickoff. Great, it’s my first game and I’ve already committed a fan foul!

15 yards for not knowing how to read a watch.

As I approached the gate there were actually people there engaged in what suspiciously looked like an exchange of tickets for money. This was a contingency I hadn’t planned for; when it comes to money I’m not exactly liquid. The gate I approached had three girls who were taking tickets. Since I never actually got around to asking their names I’ll just make them up. So the ticket counter (i.e. table set up next to the fence) was run by Charlie’s Angels.

Visual Approximation

When I walked up to the table I was informed by Angel 1 that tickets were $5. This news almost caused me to give up on this entire enterprise altogether. The gears in my head immediately whirled into action as I schemed a different plan for the afternoon. I know $5 may seem like a small amount of money to pay for a football game (it is) and that I was being incredible cheap in trying to avoid this painful loss (I was), but I just couldn’t see the point in spending money to watch a game I could watch just as well from my front porch. Full disclosure, my house is literally right across the street from the stadium.

Instead of going for money in my wallet, like every other person at the game had done, I just stared at the girls. And this was not a socially acceptable stare either, where two random people lock eyes for longer than one second then turn away in shame. “How could I have looked that stranger in the eye! Why am I so cursed!

 No, I. Just. Stared. It was at this point that Angel 2 came to the rescue.

Angel 2: “You work here don’t you?”

Me: “Yeah, I coach tennis.”

Angel 2: “Oh, you don’t have to pay then. Employees get in for free.”

Bless you. You have saved me from spending money. I will name my first born after you…if I ever learn your name. I’m not sure what the third girl was doing while Angel 1 was squirming under my death gaze and Angel 2 was coming up with something – ANYTHING – to save her friend.

Angel 3, Charlie called. You’re fired. Kris Munroe’s taking your place.

Once in the gate I was immersed in the tradition and pageantry of college football and was right on top of the action

The crowd is screaming and they added points to the scoreboard, so I assume we crossed the goal line?

Of course I went to the game by myself, and since the girls team was playing matches out of town that day my chances were very good of not seeing anyone I knew.

I tend to think of myself as a one man wolf-pack.

Luckily, I spotted one of the basketball players I knew from her working in the racquet center. We’ll call her Kelsey (because that’s her real name). She was working at the game for the school A.D. and had some down time before the first half was over. None of that really mattered to me, I was just happy to see a familiar face and not be the weird kid by himself (yes I still live by 4^th grade playground rules). 

When halftime neared Kelsey had to go sell t-shirts which left me alone, again. One moment of solace in being by myself was the undoubted safety of the area around me as the picture below will attest.

Everything within a 10ft radius was locked down tighter than Fort Knox.

That’s 3 of Cedar Rapids finest and 2 security guards manning the… uh that small area by the 30 yard line.

The Kohawks went into halftime with a sizeable lead. I wish I could tell you what the score was, but I don’t remember. I’m still working on this whole “watching” thing. The t-shirt table Kelsey was working at for halftime wasn’t too far away and I decided to head over to try and acquire some Kohawk paraphernalia. My current stock of Coe gear is woefully inadequate (Coach Rodgers get on that) and I was hoping Kelsey would cut me a deal, and by deal I mean a free shirt. I approached the table with steeled resolve knowing I would need plenty of mettle in order to come away from this bazaar a winner.

Me: “How much are the t-shirts?”

Kelsey: “They’re eight dollars.”

Me: “Eight Dollars!”

Now, I was fully willing to stare death rays into some helpless girl at the front gate until her soul melted. And that was over $5 dollar t-shirt. Eight dollars is a percentage increase of like… a lot.

Me: “How about free?”

Kelsey: “How about eight dollars?”

By God the woman drives a hard bargain. At this point I could either, a) go with my trusty, “I’ll name my first child after you” (sorry Angel 2), or I could, b) pretend like I didn’t have all the money and hope Kelsey would let me pay with what I had. I chose the second option.

Let’s see, I’ll just pull out Mr. Lincoln here and see if that will do the trick. Ahhh Dangit!!! There’s a stowaway stuck to Old Abe. Washington! I’ll never forgive you for this betrayal.

Me: “How about six dollars?”

Kelsey: “Okay, that works”

I knew I would regret that extra dollar. She totally would have gone along with five. At least I didn’t give away the naming rights to my first child again.

Perhaps I should have focused the camera before taking a picture.

With my bargaining done I went back to watch the second half. I had a slightly better view which means my view wasn’t blocked 100% by a wall of bodies. The second half was fairly uneventful and the Kohawks came away with a 33-3 victory. After the game was over I celebrated by going to the racquet center and gorging myself on more football like a fat kid at a buffet. Never mind that many of the college football games on opening weekend are gross overmatches – I’m talking about you Ok State. This is football season, and I planned on taking it all in for the whole day. All its artery clogging glory. I even watched most of the NFL/college crossover game where a bunch of future professionals (Alabama) took on an average college team (Michigan). My viewing experience can be summed is as such: I sure hope the game is goo – OH MY GOD, STOP THE GAME BEFORE BAMA HURTS SOMEONE. That about sums it up.

My day done, I sat to bask in the victorious glow of my football bender.

He never could handle his football.