HEISGIRL: Fodder From a Female Football Fan

Living every week like it's Shark Week.

Wednesday, August 23, 2006

Take off your pants and get comfortable. This is gonna git drrrty

I was born a baby. Some stuff happened. And then I went to the University of Texas.

I am probably (definitely) the biggest Texas fan in the (now Pluto-less) Solar System. I won’t say universe because that would be a bold statement. Do you know how crazy big the universe is?

When you say you’re a Texas fan, 60 percent of that statement means you are a Texas football fan. As much as I love college basketball, college baseball and college volleyball, in the state of Texas, football is where it’s at. I realize that is like saying “the sun is hot.” But shut up.

I bleed orange. I live and die by my boys. And recently I’ve been doing a whole lotta living. I don’t know if you heard, but we are reigning national champions. You didn't hear? Let me say it louder: WE ARE MUTHAF***KIN' NATIONAL CHAMPIONS. Oh and it gets better...I was there. I was there for the greatest college football game ever (ESPN's words, not mine), and from henceforth Jan. 4, 2006 will be known as the Greatest. Day. Ever. As I contemplated how to kick-off the blog (get it!? kick-off!? She's clever AND cute!) the story of my day in Pasadena is the best place to start.

My football traveling partner (FTP) and I bought plane tickets for Pasadena after we killed Tech in late October. Once our place in the title game was secure, we began the quest for tickets. It was like looking for a fat person on America's Next Top Model. And after what seemed like thousands of hours on eBay, on the phone, on craigslist, etc., FINALLY something came through. UT had offered tickets to members of the Texas delegation, one member of which is friends with FTP's family. He called her on my 25th birthday (six days before the game) to let her know we were golden. Let's just say...Best. Birthday. Ever.

We flew into LA on New Years Eve, and proceeded straight to bed. We spent the next couple days doin our thang around LA. We spent two nites staying in the hood because we confused Inglewood for Brentwood ("Inglewood has to be safe...it's where OJ lived."). We hit a happy hour and gamewatched with the LA Exes, the second best chapter out of the District. We hit the Longhorn Bash at the team hotel the nite before the game. We avoided reading any predictions because we knew they were all bullshit. AND FINALLY...game day arrived.



Having since moved to a hotel downtown, FTP and I rolled along to take the subway to Pasadena at about 10 a.m. Temporary tatoos? Check. Twelve-pack of beer? Check. Tickets? No check (we didnt actually have them in hand OR know where we were sitting until about 2 hours before kick-off...neither of us acknowledged how nervous this made us). Anyways, as we're walking to the subway station, every LA asshole we encountered made comments like "ya'll came a long way to lose," or "I hope you'll save some of that beer to cry into later." To every one of those assholes, we just smiled and said, "wanna meet back here later and compare notes about what happened?"

We arrived on the Rose Bowl grounds just after 11, ready for five solid hours of tailgating. After locating the Hornfans.com blimp, we trudged over and began drinking. This is where I should note a couple things. First, neither of us had really eaten anything since lunch the day before, so we were prepared for the beer to hit us fast and furiously. Second, tailgating before a HUGE game like that for several hours is a tricky endeavor. You want to give yourself a buzz on a double bell curve. You start quickly, and want to max out intoxication before "taking an inning off." Once you feel the headache start to set in (always come to a tailgate prepared with water and excedrin) you start up again, but without pounding as hard. Quit drinking an hour before game time, and then coast out the buzz. I'm not good at a lot of things...but I know how to consume Miller Light.

But I digress, we got to the tailgate, and cracked open the first brew dawg. They were working on getting some sausage wraps cooked, so FTP and I could drink with impunity until then. Tailgate was pretty sparse for a while, since it was (you know) 5 hours til kick-off. A nice old man gave me his chair in front of the teles and we watched the OU game. We chatted up with various folks about this and that, but for the most part focused on drinking. As usual, we became the life of the party. At a certain point, Cory Mutherf***in Redding walked by, and my nethers twittered with memories of all-time pretty boy Chris Simms.

After a few hours and several beers, crazy-bitch former roommate walked by with her dad (because she has no friends). This seemed like the opportune moment to leave the tailgate and take in the sights and sounds of the shanty town outside the Rose Bowl. I thought after my trip to State College that I would never see a better tailgating atmosphere, but this shit was bananas. That's all there is to say. There was lots of mud because LA had been drenched for three days before the game, and all I could think about was what a giant mud bath this would turn into after the game. Both of us ran into people we knew from college that we hadn't seen in a million years, and most of those people were looking for tickets. I had not and did not see a single person selling tickets the entire day. Not even fake ones.

As FTP and I are strolling around, a reporter and cameraman walk in our path. I yelled "hey! I don't remember your name but you're on tv in San Antonio!" He asked if I was from there, and when I said yes if I wanted to be tv. Um, double yes. He asked me a couple questions and at some point I said "Vince Young is gonna run all over those b.........jerks." He laughed and said "not drunk enough to curse on tv?" And I said "definitely drunk enough, but I promised my parents I wouldnt embarass the family." A week or so later my parents ordered a dvd of the broadcast and watched it. I said, "so...um...how did i sound?" They said "fine, why?"

No reason.

Next we met up with some friends and welcomed the team to the stadium. There's not much to say about that except that we waited a really long ass time. Not long after they arrived, FTP went to meet the Congressmen who shall remain nameless (and still will probably never receive a vote from family-of-Steez), and our tickets were at long last, in hand. 15 yard line, 40th something row. We probably could have sold those tickets for $5000 each , but I wouldnt have sold them for a million. Quickly we realized that were we to stay on the Steezy Tailgating Plan (STP), we needed to get back to the tailgate and get some more drinking in. The tent was a lot more crowded at this point (after 3 p.m.) and surprisingly there seemed to be more beer than before. Obviously, we have Jesus to thank for that...turning the water into Miller High Life. For some reason or another (I'm blaming BAC) I thought it would be funny to yell out that I had four tickets for sale. The people who thought I was serious, and came over with their sweaty wads of cash did not find it funny. We chatted up with this old man who reminded me of the Leslie character on "Will and Grace" who had a ticket for himself for the game but not for his son. That is exactly the kind of parent I aspire to be...and the kind I probably will be...only looking out for number one. "You want to go to the Rose Bowl? I had a ticket for you but I think it got left in the womb before I pushed you out...so you're SOL."

The most amusing character we met was some guy named Will, who was there with friends, but didnt even go to Texas. They had a shopping cart with a mannequin of Leinart wearing a tutu, and down where his/her nethers would be it said "Lick Bush." These guys were hilarious, and if I could have snuck them in with us, I would have. But alas, it was time to roll over to the game. I'll say this, drinking all day sure did help ttime fly by...I think my head might have exploded otherwise. FTP shoved two beers in her purse, we each grabbed a roadie, and made our way to the gates (and yes, we finished them all before heading in...and still had my "What Wouldnt Jesus Do" flask of vodka tucked inside my sweatshirt).


Game time. I missed Leann Rimes singing the Natl Anthem because I was in line ordering about 10 food items from the concessions. A girls gotta eat. Sitting next to us was the UT Vice Chancellor for Federal Relations + his wife (both of whom I know well and who said, "Hey Steez...how'd you get these tickets?" and in front of us was Rep. Mike McCall of Austin with his wife. Needless to say, they loved us. I'll spare the details of the game, because any idiot knows what happened, except to say a couple things:


-every time the Vice Chancellor left in the first half, we scored
-Rep. McCall and his wife loved us. Loved. FTP even went to go buy them a beer, saying she could expense it, but they apparently had two sets of seats and went to go sit in the others, leaving us stuck to consume their beers
-the guys who took their place were mucho-appreciativo of the many many high fives i like to give
-people never believe when i say this, but with 6:42 left, and us down by 12, I still thought we could win the game. I never stopped believing. We had Vince. Nuff said.
-When we stuff Lendale on 4th down, the brought out the chains to measure. The official set the marker down in such a way that it looked like they made it by a couple inches. The USC side starts going nuts. FTP and I yell (along with thousands of others) "STRETCH THE CHAINS!" And as we did, they did, and USC was short. I knew we were gonna win.
-When Vince scored, lets just say I somehow wound up 3 rows in front of where our seats were.
-When Leinart threw that pass away, I swung my head around to see how much time was left and immediately grabbed FTP, "It says 00! We won! We fucking won!" and just in general went nuts. The signs in one of the end zones started flashing "USC 2006 BCS National Champions."



It's a moment and a feeling I'll never ever ever ever forget. And the only thing I can imagine will feel better is repeating this year.

After FINALLY finding our shuttle, we headed back to the hotel. FTP took a nap en route to regain her strength, and then rushed upstairs to change her shoes while I talked to the concierge about where to get our party on. A very creepy cab driver who made no sense came and got us and we told him to take us somewhere fun on Sunset. After one miscommunication after the other, he pulled up in front of what looked like a diner to say "here, this place is cool." FTP and I, highly annoyed, decided to just get out, find another cab, and head somewhere else. But before we could, we look a few doors down, and there it is...an oasis...The Saddle Ranch Chop House. A HUGE country western bar, overflowing with orange. We got inside, ordered each of us two beers, and start making friends. First guy we meet...from San Antonio, and had my dad for 8th grade history. Needless to say we did not pay for another drink. I also chatted up some oldder dude, and every time the ESPN highlights came on, we all just shook our heads with incredulous expressions on our face.

The nite finally ended and we took our $40 cab ride back to the hotel. When we walked into our room, FTP passed out on her bed before she even hit the pillow. I turned on ESPN, sat on the edge of my bed and cried. Maybe it was just the booze, I don't know. But that's how I ended the best day of my life, and the Greatest. Day. Ever.

3 Comments:

At 4:32 PM , Anonymous Dave said...

BREW DAWG.

Your coolness factor went up tenfold with those two words. Keep spreading the goodness that is "brew dawg," and before we know it, we'll have Brew Dawg brand beer on the shelf.

 
At 4:37 PM , Anonymous Sally said...

You are just jealous of my blog prowess.

 
At 9:57 AM , Anonymous FTP said...

If loving football is wrong, I don't ever want to be right. Too bad Will won't be at our OSU pre-game this year.

 

Post a Comment

Subscribe to Post Comments [Atom]

Links to this post:

Create a Link

<< Home