Intense Super Fan

This weekend was Bethel University's homecoming. (Whoot, whoot! Go Royals!!) Being that Troy and I both went to Bethel and live close to campus, we have gone to the homecoming game every year we have been married and even a few when we were dating. I love the school spirit and the traditions of coming back for homecoming, and Troy likes the football. It's a win-win.

Homecoming is always a crazy game. You have to get to campus early to get a parking space, and then fight the crowds for a spot in the bleachers. This year was the first year we sat on the "parents' side." At Royal Stadium, on the home bleachers side, if you are facing the field, the students sit on the left. The parents and alumni sit on the right side. This year we didn't sit with the current students. I think we are too old . . . (sigh)

So, we joined the other old people on the left side of the bleachers and we were sitting behind two men who were constantly talking during the game. I learned that the one particularly vocal man went to Bethel when he was in college and also played on the football team. He loved to remissness about the "good ole days" when he was 187 pounds and couldn't keep any weight on him. Or about the game where he was up against a big guy who wasn't in shape and so he just kept tackling the overweight football player in his gut until he wore him out. His stories were interesting as they were humbly-pompous. He would talk about how awesome he was and then make a comment that brought him down to the status of a mere man.

He also loved to talk to the football players on the field as though they could hear him. A few choice phrases he used were: "Come on, beef," "You have to want it," and my personal favorite, "Come on Bethel, you gotta throw the kitchen sink at 'em." (I actually typed these into my Droid as he said them so I wouldn't forget.) Being that I was sitting in front of him and I couldn't very well turn around for a viewing in a conspicuous matter, I made a visual of what he might look like. I figured he was a typical football alum dad who was wearing a Brooks Brothers oxford under his Bethel windbreaker drinking a Caribou coffee. But when the game was over and I turned around to see him, I saw a man who resembled Milton from Office Space. He was wearing worn out black sneakers, light washed jeans and a cheap, felt version of an Indiana Jones hat, complete with a draw string for those windy days. He didn't fit the humbly-pompous man that I thought was sitting behind me.

While I reveled in his "new" look, I thought about how this man or someone like him is present at every sporting event ever organized. Even back in 80 AD, some Roman would be shouting in the Colosseum on the best ways to kill the lion, gladiator, what-have-you and talking about the time he slayed a barbarian when he was in college. Why is it that people feel the need to fluff up their peacock feathers and talk about what they did back in the day as it pertains to the sport? Why do these people have to shout out advice to the players and coaching staff? I personally think they are hoping the head coach will overhear them and beg for them to be on their coaching staff. Afterall, their knowledge is clearly superior.