Women And Football “Go Mustangs..” she said softly; gritting her teeth and squeezing her soft cotton blanket in her delicate hands. She then looked around the stands at all of the football fans. “Catch that ball!” “What the hell are you doin’?” “Come on, ref! Are you blind?” “Yeah! Go, go, go!” Those were the only sounds that pierced the otherwise impenetrable roar inside the stadium at a college football game. The woman tightened her scarf, and pulled both sides of her wool cap down over her ears. In one motion, she raised her eyebrows and stretched out her neck.

She was finally able to see the players on the field over the tall man’s head in front of her. Just after the play began, the man jumped up to his feet and yelled something she did not understand. “What does that mean, Hon?” She inquired of her knowledgeable husband. “Oh, he’s mad because the quarterback should’ve opted to pitch the ball to the runningback instead of tryin’ to run it himself. Our quarterback’s like that, though.” He explained as simply as he thought possible.

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“Oh.” She nodded in silent consent, but not complete comprehension. In fact, she was more confused then than she was before she asked. She shrugged her shoulders with a sigh and continued to watch the confusing, violent, loud game with all the enthusiasm she had left. She suddenly felt a tap on her shoulder and hesitantly turned her head around to see the bright-eyed face of an elderly woman with her husband. “The uniforms look nice this year.

Don’t they dear?” The old woman asked with a big grin on her wrinkled, but friendly, face. “Especially the band; they look so pretty.” “Yes. Yes, they do.” She agreed without looking, and turned back around as if she had been involved in the football game. Her husband turned to her swiftly. “Watch number eight; he can open-field tackle like a pro.” Her husband pointed out in an effort to direct her attention from wherever she was to watching the game.

“Which ones are we? Are we in the green or white?” His chin dropped suddenly and his forehead wrinkled up. “We’ve been watching this game for over an hour and you don’t know what team you’re rooting for? I don’t believe this?” “Sorry. They look all the same to me.” “We’re the green, the other team is white. They’re killin’ us right now, but we still have a fighting chance if we can just.. Hey, here comes the wave! You gotta get up when the guy comes running by us!” A young student in a bright green shirt ran across the front of the bleachers causing everyone to jump out of their seats and throw their arms up in the cold, foggy air.

The student’s cheeks glowed bright red and he was out of breath, but he continued to run back and forth to stir the excitement in the fans. When it came time for the woman to stand up, she simply raised her arms in the air, remaining in her seat. The husband fell back into his seat, all the while screaming. When he calmed down he turned to her, cocked his head to one side and scrunched the middle of his forehead together. “How come you didnt stand up for the wave?” “Because I’m cold and I didnt want the blanket to fall on the ground,” she explained promptly.

“Sorry.” “It’s alright,” he sighed in disappointment. As the woman began looking around again at the fans she noticed one young man that had been looking at her throughout the entire game, as if he were watching her, or wondering what she was thinking. “I’m too paranoid. That’s ridiculous,” she thought, and returned to her blank stare at the players on the field. The bright lights.

The loud band. The noisy fans. The students with their shirts off and faces painted. The smell of nachos and hot dogs. The shaking of the bleachers from stomping feet. The atmosphere is indescribable, yet some people just can’t get into it.

I don’t understand that.. but I assume it has something to do with the fact that I don’t understand the large crowds at dog shows, either.


I'm Lydia!

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