Up Close and Personal

Up Close and Personal

The thing about NCAA D-III sports is everything gets experienced up front and personal, even the tailgating.

We did some of that today at Elmhurst, for homecoming.  My son-in-law is the defensive line coach for the Bluejays, he went to Elmhurst and his wife went to Elmhurst.  With those connections, I couldn’t get out of today’s game with anything less than a doctor’s pass, and, trust me, my wife wouldn’t drive me to urgent care no matter how much I begged.

So, it was an hour in the parking lot snacking on Fritos, Michele’s pumpkin squares and pumpkin donuts from the Oak Park Bakery; I refused to share anything with the yellow jackets.  When the time came, Michele and Clare led me away from the food to my seat on the home side of the field.

I learned long ago at Clare’s high school softball games to pay attention.  When there isn’t any instant replay, a missed play stays missed for all eternity.  In a way, that’s a good thing, because you learn to pay attention and really follow the action.  I cheated a little when Clare played college softball by taping her at-bats in senior year.  I remember what I taped what I wanted to remember.

Elmhurst lost to Carthage, 38-14.  I could pretty much tell who the parents of Bluejays’ players were; when it’s your kid on the field, you act different and probably sound different, too.  Parents of players display an intensity other spectators just don’t have.

A lot of the students wore Converse All-Stars, Chuck Taylors; I do, too.  Of course, one of the reasons I used to was because the shoes were made in the USA.  Now, you have a pick of China, India or Vietnam.  I prefer the old days.

All in all, it was a pleasant afternoon, not too cold and sunny at the start.  The only problem was the undead; they shuffled up and down the aisles, or across.  What is it about sporting events that makes people want to get out of their seats every few minutes?  The only difference between these zombies and the ones on AMC is junk food seems to satisfy them.  But as soon as these pests start turning on fans in the stands, I’m out of there.