This is our house!: My quest to understand football and its beloved fans

I always look forward to my sports editors popping into my office for my football picks. I amuse them with my answers (I know absolutely nothing about football) and they amuse me by coming to ask me in the first place.

They’ll say, “Wisconsin vs. Vanderbilt?” and I’ll say, “Wisconsin, I hear they have great cheese.”

“U of I vs. BYU?”

“BYU, because I’m quite certain I’ll be tried for treason and shot if I vote for U of I.”

I know enough about BSU football to hate the Vandals. I’m not sure why we hate them, but I know it’s my absolute duty to talk smack, as I’m told any self-respecting Bronco should.

My not knowing anything about football combined with an intense curiosity about why Broncos and Vandals hate each other, and why people love football so much in general, compelled me to tag along with my sports team on their road trip to cover the showdown between BSU and Idaho.

As we entered the Kibbie Dome, my first thoughts were, “An indoor stadium?  That seems kind of sissy, do they get manicures after the game if they chip their finger nails too?”

AC/DC set the mood for the game. The ominous tone of “Hells Bells” left an uneasy restless feeling amongst those of us waiting for kickoff. Stadium attendants rushed around to set things up for the game, early bird fans got settled into their seats, journalists clicked on their laptops, photographers removed their lens caps … everyone braced for the show, each wondering what miracles might happen.

Would the Vandals pull a rabbit out of their hats and stomp on our beloved Broncos? I doubted so. I entered the game feeling as if the story had already been written. The fact we were going to win seemed clear. I came for one reason, and one reason only: I wanted to know why people go so completely insane over football.

Before my sports team and I entered the stadium, we were out at the tailgates observing the debauchery. That’s where I ran into ‘Theresa Vandal.’

Every other word out of Theresa’s mouth was the F-word. She hates the Broncos. I’m quite certain she was too drunk to remember why, but she was confident the Vandals were going to win. I asked her when the last time there was such an upset, she replied 1993.

Even I knew that was wrong.

It seems Theresa and her comrades have gotten so used to losing, the number of years the Vandals have sucked ceased to matter to them. All poor Theresa had to console her was a case of beer, a low-cut skimpy dress, gold leotard and a mouth full of F-bombs.

Idaho fans at the part of the tailgate we found were quite trashy. There was vomit in the grass, broken beer bottles and garbage all over the pavement, and loads of drunk people who had lost all ability to communicate anything other than “Fuck you, BSU.”

It was really very sad.

Bronco fans were markedly outnumbered. Those brave enough to sport their orange and blue were heckled, harassed and sometimes physically threatened.

Not that the Bronco fans weren’t doing a fair amount of smack talking. The atmosphere was quite electric and at moments toxic. I found my primal instincts urging me to fight. I might not love football, but I love Boise State and therefore, I was ready to throw down for my classmates who did.

To my surprise, I caught the hate-bug and was eager to join my fellow Broncos in cheering our team on so we could show the backward shit-talkers what was up.

Still, as we headed inside, I couldn’t help but think I needed to set aside what I had just seen at the tailgate and try to absorb aspects of loving football outside of the visceral reaction I had to being heckled by Vandal fans for being a Bronco.

With my head back in the game, I was swept away in the awesomeness of it all. I’d been to football games before but this one was different. I didn’t just want to be there, I wanted to truly experience football.

I took a moment to soak it all in. After searching the faces of the fans before me, I was amazed to see the hostility Id seen between opposing football-aficionados evaporate momentarily, as their teams took to the field.

I saw examples of Vandals quite different from the ones I’d experienced outside.

They were just as passionate as any Bronco about their team, and were equally as classy as most of our fans are.

Pockets of the riff raff I’d encountered earlier could still be observed, but for the most part, I saw families, friends and classmates all showing pride for their school and love of their team.

The color guard presented the American flag, everyone stood in reverence with hands over our hearts as we listened to the National Anthem. Thunderous cheering erupted after the last note was played, marking the beginning of one of America’s most treasured pastimes.

The Vandals wasted no time getting started, scoring their one and only touch down in what felt like moments after the game began, right in front of one of our Bronco fan sections at the end zone.

The stadium once again erupted in cheers. Only this time it was countered by the audible displeasure of Bronco Nation. Vandal receiver Daniel Hardy, who scored the touchdown, turned to stare-down our fan section. In his eyes burned the message, “This is our house!”

I remembered Vandal fans outside screaming, “Who do we hate? Boise State!”

Hardy transmitted as much quite clearly in demeanor after his touch down. 

I turned to our fans to see their reaction. It didn’t appear to faze them much. They seemed more annoyed the Vandals had reason to hope they might actually win.

I heard one Bronco bark, “We never give up. We never lay down. Bring it, Sucka!”

A mix between pure fury and fierce determination consumed him.

His brow suddenly softened, he smirked. He looked over to our players and shook his head at Hardy, as if to say, “Enjoy it buddy, cause Bronco Nation is about to bring the pain.”

And bring the pain we did. As expected, our Broncos represented us well.

I took special care to migrate back and forth from the stands to the field to get the full experience. In doing so, I was able to observe something I had not noticed before at football games, the intimate and personal connection between fans and players.

When a mistake was made I would see the player raise his face to fans with a look of genuine remorse and frustration. You could almost hear him think, “My bad, guys. I’ll do better next time. I really thought I had that.”

You could feel the synergy as fans responded in time with words of encouragement and support. I was further entranced by those intimate moments when I thought about how much love and devotion fans invest in their team, and how the team adores them equally in return.

The largest thrill of the night for me was standing at the goal post as our Broncos scored a touchdown. It’s hard to explain the adrenaline rush of being so close to the action, to feel the immense energy of thousands of victory hungry fans pulsates through the air in what felt like the cosmic heartbeat of football.

BSU students Collin Hershey, William Bunson and Chase Hanchett were three of the most vocal fans I witnessed help Buster Bronco and our cheerleaders keep that heartbeat accelerated.

They were quite entertaining to watch and even more fun to interact with. They expressed to me several times throughout the night how much they longed for our Broncos to make it to the next BCS Bowl, and didn’t seem to mind my periodic outbursts of uncontainable Bronco pride, when I forgot my place as a journalist.

I asked the three what they loved most about the game and all exclaimed they loved beating the Vandals. Admittedly, I loved beating the Vandals too, and eventually gave up on trying to hide it.

They introduced me to Mini-Bronco, Carson ******, who led cheers with my fellow BSU students. Like a lot of young boys there that night, Carson hopes to one-day play football for Boise State.    

He was on the front line with fans nearly the entire game, his family close behind him, cheering, booing and sharing the experience of being a part of Bronco Nation. Carson wore his pride boldly on his puffed up chest as he showed off his remarkable knowledge of Boise State football.

When I asked Carson what he liked most about being a Bronco, he said, “I like it when it’s the last game and they’re undefeated and if they win then they know they’re going to the BCS Bowl … and then we get to storm the field.”

Boise States victory over Idaho that night brought Carson’s BCS dream one-step closer to reality. I did feel bad for Vandal fans when their team  so badly decimated on their home turf.

However, any sympathy was immediately quelled at the memory of the BSU hate-parade I had witnessed at the tailgate before the game.

The whole experience left my mind reeling. 

After most fans had vacated the stadium, I ventured over to BSU’s bench and took a seat at the 40-yard line for a moment of reflection.

Bandages, candy wrappers, sweaty towels and miscellaneous other debris was the only evidence that our Bronco’s had been there. (Besides the look of defeat on the faces of remaining Vandal fans.)

I was invigorated by my experience that night, but still grappled with the question of why fans and players love football so much. I felt I was missing something. As entertaining as my evening had been … I hadn’t seen anything to help me understand how some people eat, breathe and live Boise State Football.

Just then, I looked over and say Kellen Moore chatting on his cell phone. The only reason I knew who he was is because my sports editor told me, “Watch out for number-11, he’s important. He’s the quarterback,” which tells you exactly how far removed I am from being part of, or understanding, Bronco Nation.

Kellen hung up the phone and handed it over to a friend as Vandal, Brandon Artz, approached.

The two posed for a picture, someone yelled, “Get in there, moms!” Two women I assume were their mothers joined the for an impromptu family photo-op.

What happened next was in stark contrast to what I witnessed earlier between Broncos and Vandals. The exchange was all smiles and laughter. The two gentleman gabbed for a bit while their proud families waited for them to wrap the evening so they could depart.

The journalist in me wanted to ask them how Moore knew Artz, and what they talked about. I decided to leave them be as a token of my appreciation for giving me evidence that football isn’t all about what I saw at the tailgate. Perhaps what I witnessed was a few drunken freshmen trying to figure out what it means to be a true college football fan, just as I was.

Seeing the scattered players, cheer squads and families interact after the game gave me a new perspective to consider as to why people love football so much.

I created scenarios of how Moore and Artz might know each other off the field. Perhaps they were high school friends taking advantage of a rare quiet moment together since their college careers exploded?

I imagined them as football fans, simultaneously realizing some regard the two as football stars.

I imagined Moore and Artz throwing a pig skin on a lazy Sunday afternoon as kids, their backs glistening in the sun, their skinned up knuckles resting on grass stains on their clothes that their moms had given up trying to get out in the wash. 

I imagined them watching Monday Night football with their family, and letting their high school sweethearts wear their highly coveted letterman’s jacket. I imagined the countless hours they spent at the gym and at practice, molding their bodies and minds into the

disciplined machines that delivered them to this moment.

I wonder what the moment was like when they realized they had transformed from an adoring football fan into coveted football hero and role model to kids like Carson.

I imagine how awesome it must feel to be part of a pastime that brings families and friends together and helps keep communities strong.

I decided in that moment, I like football. I realized it was going to take a lot of studying and dedication to become as big of a fan as I interacted with at the game that night. But now I see why it’s worth it.

I decided that to some misguided fans, football is all about drunken tailgates and smack talking … but for Moore and Artz, and many football fans like them, I imagine it’s all about the game, as well as the character built and memories spent with family and friends enjoying it.

 

 
 

SHANNON MORGAN
Editor-in-Chief

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