I attended a Northwestern football game at Ryan Field only once prior to this season’s contest against the Illinois State Redbirds. The former was a cold November game in 2008 when I was visiting the school and trying to get a feel for NU.
In that particular game, Ohio State dismantled the Wildcats, 45-10, in front of a large crowd, half of which was wearing scarlet and gray. Being a Florida boy, I spent a good deal of time combating the cold and clinging onto my hot chocolate in the main concourse. Even though I sat one section over from the NU band and students, I felt utterly disconnected from the game’s outcome.
When I joined the purple-clad Northwestern student faithful this year on Saturday, September 11, I anticipated that my experience would be much superior. And I was exactly right.
Rocking my purple NU sweatshirt, I spent the next three or so hours watching the ‘Cats take down their opposition. Since school didn’t start for another week, I was surprised at the amount of students at the game, especially because of the rainy weather conditions prior to kickoff. The student section was quite spirited, considering the opponent was a so-called “cupcake.” We religiously stood on top of the bleacher benches, doing our best to make life difficult for the Redbird offense on third down, while politely quieting down when Dan Persa & Co. went to work. I rhythmically clapped my hands and pretended to know the words of the NU fight song, which I nearly mastered by the end of the first half.
Since NU had the victory in hand by halftime, I spent much of the second half socializing, and looking around for other freshmen that had added me on Facebook (either they weren’t there, or my Facebook stalking skills just aren’t very good). The student section was prone to idle chatter in the second half, but there was still the occasional die-hard clamoring for backup QB Evan Watkins to throw deep. The most exciting moment of a fairly dull second half occurred when security removed a World Cup-inspired student blasting his vuvuzela, ending Ryan Field’s vuvuzela craze before it started.
Because my high school football games served more as social events than anything, it was really cool to finally root for my school and my classmates on the field. For once, I had a personal stake in this game – my pride was on the line. The success of the football team definitely affects the reputation of the school as a whole. If the Wildcats succeed on the gridiron, my Florida friends will (hopefully) be jealous of the awesome school I attend; if they fail, then my friends will inevitably go back to making fun of the color purple.
But my connection with the student section wasn’t just about avoiding mockery from my friends from home. It was more about joining with my Wildcat brethren to cheer on a common cause. The feeling is akin to rooting for the United States in the World Cup: the team’s successes and failures are attached to my identity.
For my entire life, I’ve been a football die-hard. Though my high school team was fairly incompetent and irrelevant, my weekends throughout my pre-college life were dominated by the gridiron. Saturdays were for college football, and the NFL controlled Sundays. However, because I was not a fan of the local team, Miami, I always had to root for my team from a distance, save for the rare voyage to a home game.
The first home game of my Northwestern career was so much about pride because it was up-close: no television broadcast, commercials, or unnecessary sideline reporters. I was part of the event, surrounded by my classmates, friends and Wildcats. I was a single cell in the student section organism.
I’ve been watching the passion, excitement, and chemistry of student sections on television, and occasionally in person, for all my life. Now, for the first time, I had finally become a part of one.