When I was in high school, I thought high school football was the greatest thing in the world. Then I came to UW.
The excitement of Friday nights in the fall could not be matched at any other time throughout the rest of the year, with the exception of homecomings and the always-drama-filled proms.
The preparation for these football games started early in the week. At my high school, along with many other high schools, it was tradition that each boy wore his jerseys to school on game day, and the girl of his choice wore his alternate-color jersey.
It was always a scramble to reserve the jersey of choice, as whose jersey you were wearing was a BIG deal. Often times rumors were spread, like “Did you see whose jersey she is wearing?” “Yeah, I think they are hooking up!”
Anyway, after the jersey matter was decided, then it was time to make plans with friends to see who wanted to show up at games together, who would ride with who and if there was to be face- or stomach-painting involved.
Finally, the day of the game arrived.
All throughout the day, nothing was accomplished in classes, kids were just too antsy about the big game.
At the game, it was important to be surrounded by friends — in the right section of the bleachers, of course. Freshmen were expected to take the crappy seats, while the upperclassmen got their choice of seats.
I usually sat by some of my guy friends who weren’t on the football team, as they were some of the only people paying attention to the game and knew what I was talking about when I asked if it was a hold or a clip.
Halftime was always important for the crowd, as the “poms” squad performed, and nobody would even consider leaving the stands to go to the bathroom before their routine was completed.
After the game, friends and family gathered around the locker-room door to talk with their player of choice. If the game did not go as planned, many girlfriends shyly waited a little further away to judge the mood of their guys.
Then it was always important to decide who was going to have the post-game bonfire and where everyone was going to eat before this event, usually the big, bad T-Bell, or later in my high school years, the good ole Sussex McDonald’s.
Okay, now that I have droned on for 400 words about high school football and its traditions, some may be wondering: What the heck does this have to do with anything?
Well, this past weekend I went home for Sussex’s grand, or not really so grand, homecoming celebration. First of all, I must admit I did have fun at the game with a few of my good friends from back in the day, but for the most part, I saw high school football from a different point of view.
As I watched the game, I realized I didn’t really care about the outcome of the game. I no longer had a boyfriend on the team whose mood would be affected by the outcome of the game, or even a relative on the team, as my brother chooses to dominate the basketball court instead.
Not only could I really have cared less about the game, I really had no clue who most of the people were at the game.
This was only my third homecoming game since I graduated, but I am already forgetting classmates’ names and holding random, meaningless conversations with people of whose identity I am completely unsure.
Another factor in my fairly unpleasant few hours was how old I felt at the game.
Now, I know I am by no means a big, or even average-sized, person. I am actually quite “tiny,” but I even felt like I was towering about the majority of the high school kids scurrying around the stadium.
Throughout the night, I found myself wondering if I looked that little and seemed that immature to those who had come before me.
All in all, after attending the game Friday, I informed my mom that that was most likely the last high school homecoming football game I would be attending — that is, until I have kids.
After this comment, I wondered, was my experience the same as all kids have when going home, or was I maybe more of a special case because of how spoiled I had become getting to attend Badger football games?
In my mind, absolutely nothing compares to a Badger football game. I love Saturday mornings more than I love playing snood, and, wow, do I love playing snood!
The screams of the crowd, the sea of red, the obscenities being yelled back and forth, the 500 forms of the wave, not to mention the pre-game parties.
Looking back to my experience this weekend, I think maybe it is I who has changed, not the whole high school football experience.
Maybe after I graduate from UW, I will again appreciate attending high school football games, but until then, I think I will just reserve my seat in section O or P and sit back, I mean stand up, and enjoy watching UW face the likes of the Big Ten teams that descend upon Camp Randall.
