This is college football in the South, where the only thing more important than where you go to church is what school you root for. Your allegiances are displayed by bumper stickers and by plastic flags projecting out the car window. It's not replica jerseys -- because they don't make completely accurate current college replicas -- so it's sweats and t-shirts. It's Winnebagos and paper plates, burgers and barbeque chicken. With a side of potato salad, of course.
It's Cokes (notice I did not say Pepsi) that get watered down from the sun and humidity, getting sunburn on just one side of your face, and borrowing suntan lotion from stranger in front of you. Frat boys in dress shirts, ties and slacks, and regular people in shorts and sneakers. SEC coaches on TV shilling for pressure-treated lumber, ACC coaches overshadowed by the basketball coaches.
I've never been to a college game up North or out West, but I assume it's a similar, if smaller, experience. College football is equal parts family and funseekers. And at the risk of choking on a cliché, college football in the South really is a way of life, moreso than any pro sport has ever been and probably will ever be. This is partly a reflection of the Southern economy. Most people here aren't going to shell out $45 a pop to watch the Atlanta Hawks play the Los Angeles Clippers. Pro football is popular, as long as the teams are winning (note that the Atlanta Falcons have never had back-to-back winning seasons), and the Braves always average a solid crowd, but famously have had problems selling out playoff games.
Why is college football so enduring down here? I think it has something to do with spirit. It's easy and fun to joke about the schools turning into football factories, about the students not really being students, but at the end of the semester, they've got to pass classes like the rest of us once did. These are real kids, who hang out at the student center and for the most part, some of them will never play football again after they leave college, with the exception of the exceptional athletes. So for them this is it, the only memories they'll have to live the rest of their lives on.
And with a pro career eliminated, they don't have to worry about playing for the name on the back of the jersey, and instead can concentrate on playing for the name on the front of the jersey. We understand this, as fans, and we don't root for them, as people, but as representatives of our favorite schools. University presidents like to talk about academics and the importance of the school's rich sociology or math department. The day 105,000 people show up for a math competition, I'll start listening to them. We want to see football, hear helmets cracking, brass sections blowing.
Right now, it's 8:21 a.m., and I'm at a Panera Bread restaurant, strictly to rock the free WiFi, although the bagels aren't bad, either. (Note to self: Ask Peter King about the lattes here.) Looking around, there are about 14 people in here, give or take a few. And I see two Auburn hats, an Alabama golf shirt, five FSU fans, and and the rest are Gators, oh and a car with a Gator flag outside, that would be mine.
Thanks Lang Whitaker for your passion for College Football....
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