Penn State fans far and wide, if you are coming to the game, you are going to get a wet a$$. There is no escaping it. Your feet are going to be muddy, your car interior is going to be trashed, you may get sick for a week, and all of that is quite distressing until you think of this:
Our university has assembled a game day program, the whiteout, which actually can make a difference in the game. Some of you may recall that I am a longtime skeptic of the notion that what the fans think makes any difference. Whether I root for UM to beat Indiana today will make zero difference, so strategic or tactical cheering of that remote sort is a waste of time. I go with a gut level analysis of who I hate the most--in this case Michigan; Go Hoosiers!--but I know it makes no difference.
But today in the rain and slop and the stink of cowshit from the dairy barns, my usual rule is void. When Iowa has the ball and their QB feels his femurs hum because 110,000 fools are screaming at him to fumble, slip, throw a pick, or in some extreme cases, die (I am not recommending this), the fans can and will make a difference in this football game. We can escape the usual ironclad rules, and make Iowa seek out a way to have their next game with us at Fedex Field or some other neutral site. The word will go out--you do not want to come to the Beaver.
What was once mythology will become a self-fulfilling prophecy--a prophecy of DOOM for the Outsider.I want Iowa to have prepared to go on some sort of hand-signal snap count because one set of human vocal cords will not make itself heard from the QB to the tackle a few yards away. Our D goes on the movement of the ball, their O has to figure out a way to act in unison without verbal communication. Every time it does not work and they either false start or get run over because one of their lineman is crouching in his stance after the ball is snapped, we break the rules of the game and the fans hand our defense an advantage. They get more frustrated. They forget assignments or make other mistakes. The advantage grows.
Haul your rain gear into the ballpark with you and sit there for so long as there is any doubt. You paid good money for these tickets and drove long hours to get there. You will not sleep worth a damn in your hotel room or RV if we lose, anyway. If we lose a close game and you can speak above a whisper by Tuesday, then unfortunately this loss gets chalked up to YOU.
I sat in the stands for Nebraska 2002 when Gardner picked off Lord and coasted 75 untouched to drive the final nail in the coffin of the Cornhuskers. The guttural, raging roar of the crowd was one of the loudest things I have ever heard. I had reverb in my ears like when you are standing in the open air at a jet show. On that day I saw the power of this-- an intimidating, brutal, merciless assault on consciousness. It disturbs one's equilibrium. That game was O-V-E-R.
WE DECIDE WHETHER YOU HEAR THE SNAP COUNT.
Row Your Damn Boat, Already!
3 days ago
No comments:
Post a Comment