This picture of IU coach Terry Hoeppner during "The Walk," which occurred 2 hours before kick-off, shows what was probably the last moment on Saturday that he was happy.
IU seems to love to make Ohio State look like national champs every year, and this was no exception. A parade of bad decisions and surprisingly mediocre play-calling led to a 31-point loss. To make matters worse, there were about 15,000 OSU fans there.
My distaste for Ohio State fans stems from my freshman year at IU, when their fans rushed our field and tore down our goalpost after clinching a Rose Bowl birth. The best way I can describe OSU fans is that they're a bunch of idiots who have been there, but act like they've never been there. As an example, when Holt, Ian, and I were heading out to the tailgate fields for a halftime beer, at the bottom of the ramp in the stadium were 2 OSU fans basically telling every IU fan that walked by that IU sucks, as if we haven't been paying attention for the past 12 years. I guess that'll happen when you have a university (OSU) that admits any in-state high school graduate.
Inside the game, the few moments of positive play for the Hoosiers resulted in me yelling at some idiot a few rows in front of us that had a Chris Speilman jersey on and a foam buckeye nut on his head. While the definition of a Hoosier isn't exactly clear, I do know one thing: it's not a fucking nut. And for that I'm grateful, because I will never feel obliged to put nuts on my head.
To add to the joy of a 41-10 depantsing, it took us over 4 hours to get back to Dayton (usually a 2 1/2 hour trip, tops). Solid. Then I headed down to Cincinnati for the evening to Marc "Tron" Wiescinski's new pimp pad. Already there were Jessie, Kate, and John "Hamburger Helper" Ashcraft. We went to a bar, where I was able to watch Game 1 of the World Series. It goes to show how much football has taken over baseball as the national pastime when the majority of people at a bar nowhere near Louisiana or Alabama were watching the LSU/Auburn game rather than the first game of the World Series.
"Pistol" Chris Stoll met us out, and proceeded to mack on as many ladies as possible. Despite over 40 crotch shots from last weekend still on her camera, Kate let Marc, John, and I take pictures with it again. That 40 is now closer to an 80. We also took some generally excellent group photos. I love ruining pictures. Hopefully Kate will send me some of the better ones and I'll post them for everyone's enjoyment.
Sunday, we got up at around 9 to go tailgate by Paul Brown Stadium before the Bengals/Steelers game. Nothing like carrying a full cooler several miles in 50-degree rain to make you hate Bengals fans. It turns out that Bengals fans are the natural extension of Ohio State fans. The only difference is that there is really no tradition with the Bengals (as you may recall, the Bengals were the losingest franchise in professional sports for about a 13-year period). It turns out Bengals fans hate the Steelers, as evidenced by the many homemade t-shirts available for sale by men with mustaches and women with mullets. My favorite one made reference to the "Shittsburgh Squeelers," which I guess is supposed to be some sort of total burn. I'm not exactly sure why calling the Steelers the "Squeelers" is a burn, though. I also saw more "Fuck Pittsburgh" t-shirts than I thought would (or should) have ever been made, including one on a kid who had to be about 8. It was then I remembered that only a couple hundred yards of water separates Cincinnati from Kentucky.
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