Column

Eavesdropping on the Fiesta Bowl in Boise

By Jill Kuraitis, 1-04-10

Boise State University’s undefeated football team playing a bowl game against Texas Christian University is an occasion to study the male species in its native habitat (the sofa) consuming its natural diet (chips and beer.)

And it’s a time to wonder why it took me so long to appreciate sports, after years of holding the snobby attitude that we should focus on brainier pursuits.

Very early in the Fiesta Bowl, the BSU Broncos made a move that displeased the males in our TV room.  “AWWWWW CHEEZ! GET A GRIP, BOYS!” they yelled, dramatically enough that I thought TCU had already scored.

But a few minutes later when BSU made its first touchdown, the previous shout proved to be nothing. I thought they’d never last a whole game if they were going to carry on like THAT.

I stuck my head in the room and offended the guys – my husband, our son, and a guest - by making fun of a sportscaster’s pronouncement that BSU would have to play a “physical game” to win. “What?! They can’t win with a cerebral game?” I asked. “Shocking!” Pay-no-attention eye rolling looks were exchanged between them, and I retreated to the office TV before Tostitos were thrown.

As long as it’s not every day, the sound of guys watching sports is background music to my ears as I run our busy household and home offices. But loving baseball, I was never a football fan until BSU’s thrilling Fiesta Bowl win in 2007, when I finally understood what a winning team can mean to a college town. I caught the spirit, if not exactly the game. Football remains largely a mystery despite my diligent efforts to understand the rules. There are plenty of women who do understand football. I’m just not one of them.

For example, there is this business of “downs.” “First and ten!” referees say, and what follows is one of those semi-regular mixups of huge hunks on the field. Someone runs or someone passes and someone screws something up. They stop. Why isn’t it now SECOND and something?  Why is it always a first? If there is only one, let’s just call it “down.” I’ve been given the answer to this question more than once, but none of them have been correct.

(Sounds from TV room) “NICE!  YES! FINALLY! THANK YOU!”

(TCU scores) “WELL, THAT JUST SUCKS! THIRTY YARDS, DAMMIT!  LET’S GO, GUYS!” (Sound of guys going to the kitchen for beer.)

Understanding touchdowns is easy, and it’s fun when the guy who takes it over the goal does a little happy dance. The get-the-ball-and-run-like-hell thing is clear, and blocking and tackling makes some sense, although I fail to see why it has to be so violent. But to comprehend that much took years of sorting out what looks like a testosterone explosion. Were they panicking? Trying to confuse someone in the middle of the mob? Hey, how does that one guy cram all those dreadlocks under his helmet? Why do they wear such silly pants?

But I keep trying to understand this important American game, in honor of the Broncos, Boise, and the men I love who are defacing my sofa with salsa.

(It’s halftime and the guys are in the kitchen making crashing noises. What the…they’re loading the dishwasher? That’s even more confusing than the game.)

TCU recovers a fumble after a long BSU run in the right direction. “AWWWWW! CHEEZ!  TALK ABOUT…..DID YOU SEE THAT? DID YOU FREAKIN’ SEE THAT?”

Now it’s the fourth quarter and the game is tied at ten. The guys lean forward with their feet on the ground, unlike their earlier reclining positions. BSU Coach Petersen looks tense – he always looks tense – wait wait - vibes from the TV room -

“YES! OH YEEEESSSS!” (BSU interception) “YES! NICE!  NIIIIIIIIIICE!”

BSU’s Kellen Moore passes to his brother Kirby, who falls on the ball. No reaction from the crowd or the guys. I don’t think about the game, but about those cute Moore boys and their story.

Now our guy Brotzman has the ball and is running with it. Another run – now we’re at the 27 yard line! “ALL RIGHT! BROTZMAN! GO ! YES! NICE! GO! NIIIIIIIIICE!” [UPDATE: A reader has correctly informed me that the previous sentence is bunk. Brotzman is a kicker. Efaw ran with the ball. This just proves how confusing football can be to, well, me.]

Then Martin’s touchdown, and “GAAAA!!! AWRIGHT! AAAWRIIIIIGHT!”

Things go briefly south with about 45 seconds left, and my guys get argumentative and panicky. I peek in, and they’re bickering over what the coach should do.

But Winston Veneble intercepts and saves the game. The clock runs out – it’s ours!

To my surprise, the guys make some noises celebrating the win, then sit calmly watching the crowd cheer and the players of the game awards ceremony. They listen to a bit more after-game verbal falafel, then disperse – poof! Son drives home, Husband goes to his email, and Guest retreats to his room.

What the heck? I let those slobs alone to stink up the room by themselves, and now I’m celebrating without them?  Jumping up and down watching local TV reporters interview players for the camera, I’m loving the little side stories of families and brothers and the anecdotes about players. Channel-flipping to see what’s up in downtown Boise is fun – so is calling friends to celebrate. 

I question Husband about why I’m the only one doing this.

“Game’s over,” he said, puzzled. “What do you want me to do? I mean, they played really well, great game!”

Aha.

To me, the Fiesta Bowl was all about Boise; a community phenom. To him, it was all about the game. A great game, to be sure, but a game.

I think about the personal things, like brothers on the same team and proud parents watching the game from the stands. I think about how it will cheer us up to have a victory celebration in the streets when the team returns, especially during the gloomy, chilly weather that can be a downer. I think about how something as primitive as a game where huge guys bash around on a field in pursuit of a funny-looking ball can be a simple pleasure and a shared experience for a town and its university.

Not everything has to be rocket science.

Winning is fun.

NIIIIIIIIICE.

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