This weekend, ladies and gentlemen of the Class of 2006, marks the beginning of the end. On Saturday, we will partake in the very last home football game of our college careers. And thus starts the long road of lasts on the way to graduation.
So get your Kleenexes out and dry your little eyes, I'm going to reflect on our favorite college pastime: Virginia football.
Oh, please. Not the actual football. I can't speak intelligently about that for more than three sentences.
Al Groh is good people. Marcus Hagans is called "Biscuit" for some strange reason. A safety is worth two ... no, three points, or something.
Apparently I can't even speak intelligently about it at all.
I can, however, ruminate on the non-football aspects that have made me a die-hard U.Va. football fan for life. It's the atmosphere, not the game, that makes our football season such an experience.
I had no idea what I was getting myself into when I sported my little sundress to my first football game way back in 2002. My only remaining memory of that first game (totally unrelated to the amount of Natty Light I consumed prior to kickoff) is the intensity of the stadium full of fans when that CavMan video came on.
No crowd across the nation can compete with our fervor and passion for that bad animation. We even leave the sketchy alumni tailgates early to try to see our hero banish the opposing mascot with just one swift blow of his sword.
As the years wear on, we tend to get there in the middle of the second quarter and push our way to 30 feet from the end zone on the Hill or stand in the aisles (however illegal this may be) of the student section.
We make best friends with the people we're standing next to after every great play when we give each other overzealous high fives. We share our large Pepsis and they share their Jim, Jack or Jose. Together we scream "And that's another Cavalierrrrr FIRST DOWN" and thrust our arms in the same general direction as rest of the crowd though we may have no idea which way the team is going.
When it's time for our favorite tradition, we link arms, sway like there's no tomorrow, and screw the band because never in my history here have the crowd and the band been in sync with each other for the "Good Ol' Song."
We carry on the "U-V-A" cheer even though the music has ended, and we boo the Yellow Shirts when they bust someone with a "water bottle." We try to do the Wave as often as possible, and we even participate in the cheerleaders' chants. Some of us may or may not mock the dance team.
We laugh when we see a full-grown man crying in pain as he tries to remove the duct-tape from around his ankles where the airplane bottles were so secretively secured without ripping out every square inch of leg hair.
We paint our chests, make signs and cheer on the team as though we are the best team in the universe despite the fact that we're predicted to lose by a 21-point spread.
We turn the Gameday programs into oversized paper airplanes and try to lodge them in someone's hair three rows down.
We became the Sea of Orange because we thought it would make us better fans. We attend the games rain or shine and, in case of the former, turn the Hill into a giant Slip 'N Slide. We go sober even if we know we're going to lose and what we really need after that interception is a double shot of something strong. We rush the field for the smallest victories.
We are the superfans of a team that we may never see win an ACC championship in our time here. We love them not because they're good, but because they're ours. Our Hoos. Our Cavs. Our sometimes-surprising football team.
Now, three years and three months after my first football game, the thought of putting on a sundress makes me want to vomit (again unrelated to the cheap vodka I've been drinking since 9 a.m.), and the games are more of a social event than a sporting event. I still love every minute of game days, right down to our fumbles. I always will.
What it really boils down to is that our obsession with this University permeates everything we do. We bleed orange and blue.
Last home football game? Eat your heart out, Tech. You're in Wahoo Country now.
Lindsay's column runs biweekly on Thursdays. She may be reached at mccook@cavalierdaily.com.
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