Fan inadequacy

JG and I like to reminisce back to 2003, when the Delaware Fightin’ Blue Hens made it to the Division 1-AA playoffs and eventually won the national title.  We went to every playoff game, but one in particular pokes out in our memories.  It was the Northern Iowa game, and due to snowstorms and freezing temperatures, the facility was frozen solid on game day.  When JG and I arrived to stake out good seats in the student section, we had to chip out sections of metal bleachers from underneath a layer of ice.  Unpopular calls compelled students to pelt the officials with snowballs.  JG took a digital picture of us at arm’s length, and our faces are just visible amid winter hats and hoods, with rosy cheeks and broad smiles.  Even though I know I was freezing and uncomfortable, the “snow bowl” has nothing but happy memories for me.

All of that is to say that Saturday’s game was not the coldest Delaware game I’ve ever attended, but it was the second coldest.

The day started off well.  We tailgated with our friends and their three boys, and between burgers and hot chocolate, the weather wasn’t bad at all.  Once inside the stadium and sitting still, however, the thirty-degree temperatures sank in all too quickly.  It didn’t help that the team had absolutely no offense, and the reality of ending the season with a record of 3-9 only increased the chill.  I had started the day with the grim outlook that I’d “earn my fandom,” that is, suffer through a potentially embarrassing loss so I could flaunt my colors at some point in the future when fair-weather fans jumped on the bandwagon.  To me, True Blue fans would tough out the poor seasons and come back rallying for more, regardless of the weather.

But, oh, I was so cold.  My two pairs of pants, two pairs of socks, six layers on top (long-sleeved t-shirt, thin fleece top, long-sleeved t-shirt, hooded sweatshirt, bulky fleece, winter coat), winter hat, scarf, and two pairs of gloves were not enough to keep me going.  My feet ached from the cold and my throat was dry from yelling.  JG and I huddled with a blue fleece blanket over our knees as the loss to Villanova became more and more apparent.

“If we don’t get the first down here, I’m okay with leaving,” JG said during the third quarter.

“But what about being good fans?” I asked, almost piteously.

“Well, at least we didn’t leave during halftime.”

True.  The stands had emptied out considerably after the first half.  I just wasn’t sure if I could make it until the end; if it were possible, the level of play was even worse than the weather.  It was painful to watch.

I sighed.  “Okay.  If they don’t get the first down, we can leave.”

And they didn’t.

During the walk back to the car, JG tried to bolster up my feelings of fan inadequacy.  “It’s not just about us being there for the team.  They have to give us something back, you know?  They just didn’t do it.”

I know, I know.  No one is going to confiscate my jersey because I didn’t stay until the end of the senior game.  Sigh.  There’s always next year, Blue Hens.