Football Game Surprises
Generally, I dislike sports. I used to enjoy the Paris to Dakar rally, long before it became popular. And as much as I love mountain biking, I can't stand watching it. That's due, at least in part, to the big green monster. It really bothers me how lucky riders are today, how they take for granted the opportunities they have that simply did not exist for me back in the early 1990s.
But there's one sport I can tolerate, and enjoy, to a point. Football. The circumstances have to be right, though. It has to be a night game, with its totally cool ambiance, and there can't be anything even the slightest bit more interesting going on.
Suz hates sports. All of them. But she was willing to sit through a football game, on a work-related matter.
It was great. We had tickets to one of the corporate boxes where they surprised us by feeding us all night long while we watched the entertainment below. And the entertainment has certainly increased since the last game I attened, about 20 years ago.
Where once there was only one set of cheerleaders, now there are 3 different sets of Cheerleaders: the team's, the local University's, and some junior Cheerleaders. On one end of the field a stage was set up and a band, probably some local band, rocked. The mascot made his rounds and the ever-cool t-shirt bazooka guys fired swag into the stands. Not only was the bazooka super awesome, but it made a really sweet POOT! sound when it was fired. Definitely better than the t-shirt slingshot, which was kinda disappointing in both its aural performance as well as its actual performance.
While we watched the excitement below (which contained both cheering and booing), we chowed down on super yummy nachos. These were followed by dual pizzas at half-time and if that wasn't enough, baskets of chicken wings and chicken fingers rounded out the evening.
At the end of the game, as we were beginning to head out into the snarled traffic, I was again surprised when I learned our alcoholic beverage tab was covered.
But the biggest surprise came the next morning when I learned that far below the comfy box we sat in, my pal Jodster, of Useless Advice From Useless Men, was working the field collecting balls and providing general assistance for the refs.