As I sit on my couch, perfecting my form of drinking a beer while laying down and watching two mid-level Big 12 teams battle it out on the gridiron, I can’t help but wonder if life really gets much better. College football is back, and this is the first year that I won’t be able to spend my Saturday’s standing in a stadium and then being told about the game the next day. I am a motherfucking Seminole, by the way. Go Noles. Doak Campbell stadium has been my home on Saturdays for the past 4 years. So why am I not upset about missing out on tailgating, keg-standing, screaming “Fuck Tebow” regardless of how long ago he graduated, and all the other reckless behavior that goes with a typical gameday? That’s a phenomenal question. It’s entirely possible that I’m in denial, but I did come up with some reasons why it could possibly, maybe just a little bit, be okay that I’m not going to be swaying on aluminum bleachers while listening to FSU’s finest struggle to spell out Florida State.
Other Teams Play
Like any red-blooded American who went to a school with a relevant football team, my Saturdays for the last four years have been booked up. The only thing that is spoken outside of FSU football is people checking scores to see if UF lost. Sure, we were all notified when Johnny Football took down Alabama, but as I look back on those types of situations, I have realized something. I never saw Alabama play a regular season game. Not once. I didn’t see many regular season games that did not involve FSU. I’m still butthurt that I won’t be there, but at least now I can have educated conversations about college football outside the ACC.
I Couldn’t Do It Right
It’s been described in countless articles on this very site in so many different words. Bottom line is, there is no way that I’m making it through another season of football in school and being able to tailgate the right way. No way, no how. Last year, in my senior campaign, I went to the taping of college gameday at 5:30am and made it all the way until the game ended at 11:30pm. I actually threw up in my mouth a little writing that sentence. That is so much tailgating. My postgrad self couldn’t make it through one of those days, much less a whole season. Am I mad about it? Absolutely, but what the fuck am I going to do about reality?
I Get To Actually Watch The Game
Listen, I’m not saying I don’t remember the games, because I do. You know when a girl watches a game, but has no idea what is actually going on? I feel like my memory of the games is kind of like me watching the game through that girl’s eyes. I remember that there were touchdowns that I cheered for, and bad plays that I threw cups about, but I’m not exactly sure what happened to cause those reactions. Now I can sit on my couch or at a bar and bitch and moan about the refs and Jimbo and have an actual opinion about it.
That’s my story and I’m sticking to it. Oh, who the fuck am I kidding? My life doesn’t even have meaning anymore. Maybe I can still get a reasonably priced flight for the home opener.