This is a special Pointless Story for two reasons: one, it is Especially Long and pointless, and two, it actually does not revolve around Katy Rose. In fact, it is about my experience as a Bulldog at home here in Phoenix. And just so you know, if you start reading it, you'll want to finish it for the little nugget of Wendy-ism at the end. It's almost point-ful instead of pointless!
For the past three years, I have been excitedly awaiting September 20, 2008—the day my Dawgs would come here and play in my own backyard. That would be the day that my friends, Sun Devil fans, would see what college football is really about. I like going to Sun Devil Stadium and cheering for the Devils, but this would be the one instance I have to go against them. Yes, I have a degree from both schools. But for me, Dawgs trump Devils. The Bulldogs are my team, even though they didn't play well when I was in school. It was a big deal the one year I managed to get myself student season tickets, and an even bigger deal that I didn't really get to go to the games. But that's behind me, and is one of the reasons I am involved in a regional group of UGA Alumni who gather to watch the games on TV. There is nothing like Georgia Football, especially here in the realm of the Pac-10.
Now, I am just a regular girl, not entirely knowledgeable about everything that goes on and all the players and all the rules. I know just enough about football to really enjoy watching it. And when Georgia Football is on, it's part of who I am. I can't quite explain what makes it that way—maybe I just drank the Kool-Aid one day without realizing it. But getting together with my fellow Dawg fans is just a whole lotta fun. And I knew that the day the Dawgs came to Tempe would be a great day.
Last Thursday the President of UGA hosted a small reception for Phoenix UGA Alumni. It was a wonderful venue, the crowd was friendly, the speakers were great, and I was stoked. One of the gals I knew from my sorority now works for the university and she was there—what a treat to see her! I got to meet a lot of people, including President Adams, and reconnected with a few game-watching friends that had fallen off the map the last few seasons. The UGA staff brought a few goodies like lapel pins and fans in the shape of UGA football helmets. Even little pocket-size football schedules. These are the kind of things we crave out here in the desert, where we don't have regular access to Georgia stuff. And for once, I was among an entire crowd of people that would never ask me if that was a Green Bay Packers "G."
Saturday came and it was Game Day, at long last. Mike and I live just a few miles from downtown Tempe, so we decided to take the bus instead of forking over $40 for a great parking space that we probably wouldn't be able to get anyway. Our Bulldogs HQ was Gordon Biersch, which we discovered was completely packed long before we ever got there. I ended up with extra tickets to the game that I had not been able to get rid of, so I needed to sell them. After not having much luck getting around the restaurant, we decided to walk toward the stadium to see if we could sell them.
Thus began the long walk. We went from downtown to the stadium, talked to several people on the way, finally asked the ticket window for advice…nada… back toward downtown, meandering through some tailgating parking lots… still nothing. The problem was that Bulldogs fans would have bought them… except that they already had tickets, otherwise they wouldn't have travelled 1900 miles for the game. ASU fans, however, are fair-weather fans. The most I could get anyone to even think about paying was a third of face value. If the Sun Devils hadn't blown it in OT the Saturday before, maybe it wouldn't have been so hard to sell the extra tickets. Alas…While talking to some Bulldogs in a parking lot, a cameraman and reporter from WSB Atlanta stopped by and got us on camera for a minute. One of the gals introduced her daughter, all decked out in red & black, who is a freshman at ASU. Ha!
Back downtown, we ended up talking to some more people on a corner about tickets. There was a young couple who are Bulldog fans that had purchased ASU season tickets in order to get a ticket to the game. Their trouble was that they live in Florida, so they wanted to get rid of the remaining ASU game tickets. We made a deal, trading them a pair of our really great seats for the rest of their season tickets. Then we decided to use the other great seats for ourselves, and we sold our upper-level seats to a scalper for not quite half of what they cost.
For about 2-3 hours, Mike and I had been walking around outside in the heat, with no food or drink. There was no place to buy food or drink without waiting at least an hour to get in. Once we made the ticket deal, we knew we would get free food and sodas at the game in our good seats, so we gave up searching for sustenance and headed back to the bar to try to find our friends. After marveling that the Big Dawg--the big, bald guy that we see on TV with the Bulldog painted on top of his head-- is sitting right here at Gordon Biersch eating lunch, we found out that some of our friends were on the other side of the bar. We patiently, steadily inched in that direction and finally found our people. Now the fun could begin!
Having made it to the other end of the bar, where our friends had staked out a pair of barstools since 10am, we started drinking. Then I took over one of the barstools and began the important work of chatting with the people behind me, and advocating for their drink orders with the bartenders. It was so much fun talking to all these strangers who are all here for the Dawgs. Plus, I really can't argue with people who call me a sweetheart for getting their beers poured and passing them back to them. People don't even use that word here, so I don't remember the last time someone I don't know called me a sweetheart. It's a position of power, sitting at the bar. Well, okay, not normally, but in this instance it really was.
Eventually we headed back to the stadium and split from our group to head to the Loge level. The free food consisted of pulled chicken barbecue sandwiches, hot dogs, and baked beans. It was decent. And free. And we hadn't eaten since breakfast, so we were pretty hungry. I think Mike actually ate five hot dogs!
When we sat down, there were two Bulldogs next to us and a row of them a couple rows behind us. In the Loge level, there aren't a lot of rows deep (maybe 10?), so it's much less crowded, easier to get around, no crowding at the restrooms, and the bleachers are actual folding seats with backs. Unfortunately, the bulk of the Bulldog fan base was at the opposite end of the stadium, so we couldn't hear them very much from where we were. But I was in utter amazement at the showing of red vs. gold in the crowd. I've never seen such a large visitor contingent at a Sun Devil game! The only part of the stadium that we could see from our seats that didn't have any red in it was the student section. Everywhere else had Bulldogs heavily sprinkled in. I heard some people estimated there were 15,000 Georgia fans were at the game. Sun Devil Stadium only holds 72,000 or so, and the game was sold out (this is unusual for ASU).
The game was great to watch, the young couple we traded the tickets with was on the other side of us, and it was a lot of fun. I got the impression that I surprised some Sun Devils around us by how friendly and courteous I was at the food tables and in our seats. But not only are these people normally on the same side as me, it's just the Southern way. I wanted them to see Southern hospitality in action, and particularly Bulldog hospitality. We're nice people, we all want to have a good time and cheer for our beloved team, and we don't delight in poor sportsmanship or bad manners. Of course, I am generalizing here, but there is a small point that I'll make in a minute.
When the game got into the 4th quarter, UGA was still ahead, but anything could have happened. ASU had scored some points, so it wasn't like the fat lady sang already. But not surprisingly, gold started to file out of the stadium. I know most UGA people traveled for the game, so they aren't likely to leave before the game is over, but let me tell you, I didn't see any red trickling out. In fact, it looked to me like the entire upper north end zone (which was almost solid red) stood up and stayed there the whole 4th quarter. When the game was over, it was over, and I knew I had done my job for the Dawgs when I realized how hoarse my voice had become.
We walked back to Gordon Biersch and hung out for a while for the traffic to start to clear from downtown. When it was moving again, we walked to the bus stop where we had arrived. The buses were coming every half hour, so we figured we should walk further down the route while we waited. And here's where I'll make my point about Bulldogs generally being nice people. While examining a sign at one of the bus stops (looking to see if there was a map or schedule for our route at that stop), a disgruntled Sun Devil fan looked right at me and said, "The buses aren't running." He obviously didn't know that I happen to live here and I'm not some tourist who doesn't know any better. He just wanted to be a jerk because he's mad that my team beat his. Generalizing or not, I'd rather be a Dawg fan any day than be a friend of his.
We did finally get on a bus and get home. And then we went to pick up Katy Rose from my parents' house. Unbelievable—she was still awake after 11pm! We headed home and I started to wonder how long it would be before the ibuprofen I took would start to relieve the pain I was having in my arm and hand.
I have carpal tunnel syndrome, so for a long time I thought that was causing my pain. I tried sleeping, tried putting my brace on, and ended up on the couch tossing and turning. Finally, at 5am, I realized my hands were swollen. My ring was completely immovable and that must be what was causing the pain! I hadn't had enough water, and I had drunk alcohol in the heat—a combination I almost never do because it makes me swell up. Oops.
I started drinking water and tried icing my hand so I could remove the ring. No dice, but eventually I fell asleep when the swelling went down some. The next evening, I was finally able to remove it with hair conditioner. But there was still some pain, even hours after I took the ring off. And then it dawned on me. The Georgia football helmet fans that I had picked up at the reception Thursday night… I was so hot on Saturday, with all the walking and the heat, that I had fanned myself for probably about 8 solid hours. And that's when I realized that I had soreness in my forearm because I was… yep… All Fanned Out.
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