Grazing Cows

Grazing Cows

Here comes a few minutes of your life that you will never get back. So I’ll offer this apology in advance. I’ve modeled my apology after many recent apologies by public figures. “I’m sorry if you feel in some way put out or offended by my words. However, in no way have I violated any netiquette or other real or perceived rules of decorum.”

A win in football can be extremely therapeutic. The Virginia Tech victory over a modest team from Southern Favre Mississippi was just the tonic that the Virginia Tech team needed. Moreover, it was also a shot of smooth bourbon for our more combative fans. For some, however, more medicine is needed.

The drive to Blacksburg along Catawba (Blacksburg) Road from Roanoke Saturday was special. The narrow valley connecting the localities with unique Bubbly Mountains™ was cast in a golden glow from the retiring trees. Only at times like this do I become envious of the cows we pass along the way who graze lazily on lush green grass amidst the radiant surroundings. I almost begged the keeper of the world to make me one of those cows for just a few moments so I could experience that contentment. But of course, the cows were oblivious to their impending personal apocalypse. Being a cow is ultimately not a safe occupation on a farm.

Crisp, gentle breezes awaited us in Blacksburg; it seemed to bring forth a cleansing breath of quiet resolve. In the parking lot, I mingled with various people. There was a frequent internet message board poster who came by to chat for a bit. I had enjoyed watching his group attempt to park a huge white Ford World Expedition. The whole exercise looked like the flagging of a bomber onto an aircraft carrier deck.

At one point in my parking lot wanderings, I came across an older gentleman in a motorized scooter (handicapped lot). He was sporting a Southern Favre Mississippi University sweatshirt and looked friendly enough. So, since I’m all about “Hokie Respect,” I decided to introduce myself and engage in some pleasant conservation as he watched some young members of his group toss around a Favre ball. We had a short, but excellent talk. I told him that I had enjoyed my stay in Hattiesburg a couple of years ago when I stopped over there on my way to the Sugar Bowl. So we spoke of restaurants near the interstate. Then he proudly mentioned that Brett Favre played college ball at Southern Favre Mississippi. I responded that I knew that and that I had watched Favre play against VT years ago at Lane Stadium. He was impressed that I knew of this Favre connection. After we exchanged a few more pleasantries, I moved on.

Once I arrived at the game on the handicapped shuttle, I leaped off and headed in to the stadium via the south end zone gate and immediately went to the first uncrowded concession stand to purchase my one $4 Diet Coke. Up until this year I used to buy two large Diet Cokes from concessions, but I had to cut back this year since the masters of concessions raised the price a dollar. So instead of shaking me down for $6 a game, they now only get $4. It was their choice to raise the prices, and it’s my choice to withhold my support. Karma was evident as I watched the concessionaire fill my big cup. To my shock and amazement, she was loading my pop into a large 2002 Hokie Respect cup! The 2002 cup had an excellent design. Sturdy and large, this cup has always been one of my favorites since it can hold lots of liquid and stand up to the rigors of time and the dishwasher.

I ended up sitting in my actual season ticket seats for the first time ever. Up to this point, I had managed to share my sister’s better seats while giving my seats to others. But Saturday, my sister had all of her seats spoken for, so I had to trek to upper reaches of the negative end zone to find my seats. In the end, despite the unique perspective, I enjoyed my seats. While the guy next to me was rather large and was actually sitting on one of my two seat numbers, I was able to carve out enough space to actually enjoy the game. In fact, unlike the fans around my sister’s better seats, the people around my actual seats actually stand and cheer. That I can appreciate!

The game itself was excellent from a Virginia Tech perspective. With all of the controversy surrounding VT’s program of late (arrests, poor play on the field, uncharacteristic losses, penalties, etc) the team looked solid and united. Most importantly, there was very little trash talking and absolutely no personal fouls. This was an excellent development.

The fans, me included, seemed quiet. We seemed pensive, as if we were waiting for something to be proven to us. Of course, I believe we were waiting for magic to be uncorked from and bottle so we could dance with a genie. While I don’t think the level of play rose to genie dancing, I do think that the orchestra was warming up and a corkscrew had been delivered to the field. Hopefully, that genie bottle can be popped this coming Thursday night.

One thing that really bothered me at the game, however, was the annoying tendency of many fans to be completely fickle regarding our quarterback play. There were some loud people scattered about around me both near my seats and my sister’s seats that simply harangued Sean Glennon from before the game started until the game ended. Those people were constantly screaming that Beamer should “Get him outta there!” and “He stinks!” Amazingly, when these people finally got their wish and Ike Whitaker entered the game in the second quarter, some of these same people were booing his performance in his first series. As you may remember, Ike came in and promptly looked a bit confused for three plays. These people had no tolerance for anything less than some ill-defined and subjective form of perfection. So they predictably screamed and booed. The very next series, they booed Sean Glennon again when he came back in to the game, but cheered loudly the next moment when Glennon fired a perfect forty yard strike to Josh Morgan in the end zone. Some people are just mentally constipated, I think.

After the game, I hoofed it back across campus to our parking lot next to Shultz. The crowd was subdued and seemingly satisfied as they all shuffled along. Before leaving my parking lot, I helped a Hokie jumpstart his car. His battery was dead, but it sprang back to life with the proper motivation and support, kind of like the football team.