Catfish at the football stadium

All through college, I made it to two football games, and that was in my fifth year. I just never cared about the football team. I still didn’t when I went, but I figured what the hell.

The first game was a triple-overtime victory. Afterwards, the fans rushed the field. There we were, Face and I, jumping up and down, slapping players on their shoulder pads, two quasi hippies in the mix of jocks and greeks. It was hella fun.

I made it back to the stadium last night for the first time in four years, far more interested in the general carnival atmosphere of the whole thing than whatever was going on down on the field. I met up with the crew at a packed bar before game time, marveling at how amped up everybody was.

Unlike Chair, I love sports – I’m just not crazy about football. But his sentiments about the experience are dead on. So often it’s simply about being there. Looking around, taking it all in. Sports stadiums are indeed like churches. There’s a reverence in each. Sports fans may be a bit rowdier than your average church crowd, but I’d bet the die hard football fans value their team as much or more than church-going folks value their god.

Tucson is far from the greatest sports town out there. Deep passion is reserved only for Wildcat basketball (with good reason, as it’s without a doubt the single greatest program in the country). There’re too many transplants, too many Californians and Midwesterners, to have a long-time, father-to-son type fandom. But the football team more or less sucks, and there was a sell-out crowd of 56,400 there, so who knows?

It was great fun. I found myself screaming “hit him!” when the Purdue quarterback got out of the pocket, leaping for double high-fives when our tight end caught a pass across the middle and rumbled for a touchdown, grumbling at the stupid mistakes when our linemen got penalty after penalty. And I actually found myself caring about the score and the outcome of the game.

Of course, my true roots were showing when I left near the end of the third quarter to catch an indie-rock show.