This could have been, would have been, should have been the kickoff weekend for college football; Cougar football. But this just didn’t happen, not only for my beloved Cougs and all of the pac 12, amongst others. I’m up early to prepare to watch College Gameday as I would on any other first full weekend in September. Coffee is pouring from my Cougar coffee mug, my Cougar flag proudly flying from my front porch. All of this in an effort to regain some sort of normalcy. It's an effort to feel some sort of the love, lust and excitement that all things college football have to offer for me.
Today will be filled with a few games offered (along with The Kentucky Derby) minus the fan noise and marching bands. On this Cougar football free Saturday morning there is German sausage awaiting the grill, sausage farm produced just 14 miles (22.53 kilometers by car, if you drive non-stop.) away from the chosen tailgate location which lies in the shadow of Jewett Observatory. I will use this day to ponder a football season lost(?) or at a minimum a season unlike any other.
So I guess it begs the question. What do those precious few Cougar football Saturdays mean for me?
With Martin Stadium quiet today and in a year of lose, is this just another metaphor for how the world we will return to someday won't be like the one we left behind? A Cougar football Saturday is all about the noise, the energy. These two forces pull the acton on the field and the often more important Cougar football community together as one, not only in the stadium but in the green fields and parking lots that surround the stadium. It's the noise that turns Martin Stadium into a coliseum. I long to be in Martin Stadium where the noise shakes the stadium and the ground below you. This full expression of devotion, madness and love is one of life's great joys. The atmosphere is alive, it is truly electric. It is this electricity that make these Saturday afternoons on the Palouse a cornerstone of so many families social lives for what has become three and maybe one day four generations. There are times where I enjoy the gatherings in the parking lot as much or more then the game itself. I like knowing that there are always three generations of families breaking bread as if it were a communion not just a feast. I like gathering with friends I have known for years but rarely see outside of our fall pilgrimage to Pullman.
So when I think about today there is some relief that I don't have to see how a Martin Stadium devoid of fan might make me feel. I am worried what the game will look and feel like once my Cougs do get back to the gridiron but remain hopeful that there is a room somewhere full of those smart enough to figure out how to once again play the game I love. But for now it's just breaking my heart.
