Drive. Walk. Run. Hang-glide. Street luge. Jump on the old Big Wheel. Get a piggyback ride from Jeffrey Fitzgerald. Ship yourself in a FedEx overnight box. Hitch a motorcycle ride with a couple friendly Hells Angels. Do the watermelon crawl.
There are many, many ways to get back to Charlottesville for next Saturday's season--ending, bowl game--determining, nail--biting, "Good Ol' Song"--singing top--20 super--rivalry game against Virginia Tech. Just pick one.
Now I know some people are saying they won't be in town to pack Scott Stadium to the gills and watch the best team Virginia has had in years take on the team that has embarrassed us again and again. They have various excuses such as "I need to spend the weekend with my family," "I live too far away" and "I'll be in a deep and dreamless tryptophan--induced food coma."
As a fourth-year, none of these tearjerker stories hold a drop of water for me. Family around? Slap a sundress on Grandma and stick her in the student section. No last--minute plane ticket? Refer to the beginning of this column. Food coma? That might be a problem, but try to pull yourself out of it by noon Saturday, or I'm coming at you with the electric paddles.
During the past three years, I've seen some pretty amazing games in Charlottesville -- games that made grown men cry and atheists find religion.
First, there was the epic evening upset of No. 4 Florida State in 2005. I remember getting murderous looks from a long line of reporters as another Cavalier Daily sportswriter and I high--fived everyone within reach in the press box before screaming our heads off and tearing down the stairs to rush the field with the rest of the world.
Then there was last year's finger--pointing overtime upset of Duke on the basketball court. The game was so perfect that I half expected to see an embarrassed Coach K transform himself into some form of rodent and scurry down the tunnel to avoid all the flashbulbs.
The thing that's going to make me wolf down my turkey faster than Takeru Kobayashi on speed next week is the very real possibility that Virginia's last home game could join these epic nights as a permanent part of my U.Va. memory.
After all, there's a good chance that by the time I'm 95, the only things I'll remember about my college years will be the words to Rihanna's "Umbrella" and my WebMail password. When I sit back with my Velcro shoes and tapioca, I want to add this year's Tech game to that list.
Think about it: All the ingredients are in place. The Cavaliers are mad, having lost the past three meetings with the Hokies by a combined 69 points. That means fourth-years like myself have never seen the Cavaliers beat Tech while we've been students. Basketball is a small consolation, but we want to land the big tuna.
Virginia is also having its best season in years and (for once) is actually closing out the season with some momentum rather than coasting to the finish line like a car that has run out of gas. The Cavs are sitting pretty at No. 16 in the AP rankings and No. 14 in the BCS, breathing down the necks of the No. 10 Hokies.
You can also bet there's nothing Chris Long would rather do before he goes top--10 in the NFL draft than plant Tyrod Taylor on his maroon and orange rear end to finish out the regular season. Coincidentally, one of my own goals before graduation is to put a shoulder into Tech's backup quarterback Sean Glennon, so I'm planning to ask Long to let me sub in for him once he's checked Taylor into the emergency room.
It's also high time that the Wahoos got some revenge for the petty, middle school pranks Tech fans have been chuckling about for the past few years. I'm talking about the "T" they added to our midfield logo in 2005 and the small VT that mysteriously appeared carved into on our brand new basketball floor last year before the Hokies got whupped by Singletary and Co.
Obviously the only way to respond to these acts is through a middle school--level prank of our own. I'm currently in negotiations with Cav Man to get him to steal Tech's precious defensive lunchbox and toss it into the student section where (if I'm right) it will be instantly destroyed to the dismay of ESPN sideline reporters everywhere. The problem seems to be that Cav Man does not want his giant head pounded in by a 300--pound, steaming--mad Hokie lineman. Details.
The bottom line is that all this hype and anticipation will be wasted if Scott Stadium isn't packed to capacity with rabid Wahoos at their loudest. If we don't fill the stadium ourselves, Tech fans will. Trust me. So kiss your parents goodbye after Thanksgiving dinner, paint yourself bright orange, scrawl a few witty signs and get ready for the game of your college career.
Just make sure to tip the motorcycle gang for the ride down.
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