Rose Colored Glasses

Image courtesy of upi.com

On a gloriously warm and sunny New Year’s Day in Pasadena, my 15-year-old son and I attended this year’s Rose Bowl. Our special father-son bonding event was occasioned by the participation of the University of Wisconsin, my undergrad alma mater.

My beloved Badgers, ranked 4th in the nation with only one loss going into the Grandaddy bowl game of them all, were set to stomp Texas Christian University, a small, private college in Fort Worth. TCU was undefeated and ranked 3^rd in the country, but clearly didn’t deserve to be in the Rose Bowl because of the wimpy teams they played during the year. Or so most Wisconsin fans thought.

As hell and torture would have it, TCU won 21-19, thwarting Wisconsin’s two-point conversion attempt—after a late fourth quarter touchdown—that would have tied the game, sent it into overtime and culminated in the Badgers winning on a spectacular 93-yard-drive. Oops, I’m daydreaming again.

 Well, even if Wisconsin lost the game, we won the war, capturing all of the other awards tied to the Rose Bowl other than the game itself. TCU won none of them. Zip. Zero. A complete shutout. Total Badger domination. I should note that these are awards I made up. TCU wasn’t eligible to win any of them. Here they are:

 Budweiser Fan of the Game

With 91,000 to choose from, you’d think selecting my Budweiser Fan of the Game would have been a long, agonizing process. But it was easy. The obvious winner turned out to sit just one row behind my 15-year-old son and me, just over my son’s left shoulder.

When we first spotted him, he was seated on the bleachers, motionless, eyes closed and an empty beer cup in his hand. Picture The Thinker holding a beer cup. He appeared to be in his mid 20s. Did I mention that vomit dripped from his mouth, filled half his cup and spilled onto his hands, pants, shirt, shoes and the concrete beneath his feet? Mind you, this was 20 minutes BEFORE the game began.

After what seemed an eternity, but before the opening kickoff, an older man—perhaps The (non) Thinker’s father—came over and, following an incoherent verbal tussle, convinced Our Man Vomit to get up and leave with him. Never saw either of them again. Expensive tickets for just a pre-game party.

 The state of Wisconsin is tops in America at drinking, so maybe I shouldn’t have been surprised about what we saw. Repulsed, but not surprised. Anyway, The (non) Thinker’s proximity to our seats saved me from having to interact with thousands of fans throughout the stadium in order to find The One on which to bestow this prestigious honor.

 Mr. Congeniality

Not surprisingly, beer also played a role in a Wisconsin fan capturing my Mr. Congeniality game honors. Outside the Rose Bowl prior to the game, several groups of sign-carrying Jesus Freaks, for lack of a better term, stood outside the stadium. They spread messages of warmth such as “Why do you love the devil? Repent Sinner. Serve Jesus.”  

A tipsy but jovial Wisconsin fan, beer cup in hand, saddled up to one of the Jesus groups, apparently trying to find common ground. I couldn’t hear the conversation, but I gathered he’d discovered a path to brotherhood when he turned, pointed to one of the sign carriers and exclaimed happily to nobody in particular, “He likes cheese! He likes cheese!”  That’s music to the ears of Wisconsinites, who produce more cheese than any state in the nation.

 Cheese, the tie that binds. Maybe U.S. and Iranian officials can sit down soon over a wedge of cheddar and find a way to resolve their differences. I recommend both sides bring crackers and share.

 Best Dressed

Wisconsin fans donning Bucky Badger foamheads finished a close second, but first place for Dapper Duds goes to the many fellow Badgers who wore “Teach Me How to Bucky” t-shirts. Thanks to my son, I didn’t have to spend the entire day wondering what the heck “Teach Me How to Bucky” means. Turns out it’s a play on “Teach Me How to Dougie,” the 2010 hit debut single by the hip hop group Cali Swag District (Right, you already knew that!).

The song revolves around the “Dougie” dance, which is similar to the jerkin’ movement (Ok, even I’m completely lost now!). Seems that a few months back some enterprising Wisconsin students wrote “Teach Me How to Bucky” and produced a music video for it that premiered on the Jumbotron at Wisconsin’s homecoming football game at Camp Randall in Madison.

The fans went crazy, the video went viral—1.3 million views on YouTube and counting—and the rest is t-shirt sales history.

 President’s Trophy

Apologies to floats similarly honored in this year’s Rose Parade, but my President’s Trophy goes to any of several cars parading outside the Rose Bowl. My favorite was a sports car painted red and white, adorned with painted-on roses and Bucky Badger, and the driver blaring the Wisconsin fight song over his radio. That’s a classy ride.

 Spirit Award

I have to hand this one to the entire Wisconsin Rose Bowl crowd. Whenever the Jumbotron showed anyone wearing a TCU jersey, Badger fans booed. When it showed someone wearing Wisconsin gear, Badger fans cheered. Jimmy Kimmel milked the concept, appearing on the Jumbotron wearing a TCU t-shirt to a loud chorus of boos, peeling the shirt off over his head to unveil a Wisconsin t-shirt (cheers), peeling that off to reveal a another TCU t-shirt (boos) and finally peeling that off to yet again reveal a Wisconsin t-shirt (cheers).

 Showcasing maturity as well as spirit, Wisconsin fans responded smartly whenever TCU fans completed a cheer that said something I couldn’t understand followed by T-C-U. As soon as they said “U,” thousands of Wisconsin fans pointed at them and shouted “suck.” And so it went all game: “Bla, bla, bla, TCU, suck!…Bla, bla, bla, TCU, suck!”

When I attended Wisconsin home football games as an undergrad, entire sections shouted at each other, too. Section P would point and scream “O sucks” at the neighboring section. There was no real purpose behind it; just Wisconsin fans badgering other Wisconsin fans. At least now, our section-to-section abuse is aimed at the opponent’s fans. Who says higher education isn’t improving?

 The Jewmongous Among Us

No contest for this special award. My winner is Gabe Carimi, Wisconsin’s 6’7”, 327-pound senior left tackle. Not since Samson and later Max Baer has there been a fellow Jew this large and powerful.

Carimi is widely recognized for his football skills, capturing the 2010 Outland Trophy that recognizes the nation’s best interior lineman. But it’s more than football that has me, and I’m sure his parents, kvelling. Gabe is graduating with a degree in civil and environmental engineering, having been named Academic All-Big Ten for four straight years.

In seventh grade—I’m not making this up—he helped build a house for Habitat for Humanity as his Bar Mitzvah project (“Here Gabe, hold these walls so we can nail them together.”). Carimi even fasts annually on Yom Kippur, undoubtedly freeing up enough food to feed 25 homeless families. This young man is a mensch. My only bone to pick with his family: Carimi? Since when is that a Jewish name?

 Gaffe of the Day

This dubious honor (a black rose?) goes to the Rose Bowl stadium announcer. Sometime in the first half, when Wisconsin had again made a sizable gain to move the chains, he announced to the crowd, “First down, Wolverines.” A huge chorus of boos erupted from the massive Wisconsin fan contingent.

We are Badgers, remember? The Wolverines are Michigan, a hated Big Ten rival. We wear red, they wear blue. Badgers are cute, Wolverines are not. Our costumed Badger mascot was on the sidelines; there wasn’t a Wolverine in sight.

Besides, as everybody knows—ok, everybody like me who looks up minutiae—though Badgers and Wolverines are both members of the weasel biological family, Mustelidae, Badgers grow to about 20 pounds and are extremely good at digging. Wolverines can reach 60 pounds and aren’t good at anything.

 Run of the Day

Late in the game during a timeout, a Wisconsin fan ran onto the field with his arms raised, racing about 85 yards before turning around and angling toward the Badgers’ sideline. He outran a security officer who gave chase. Finally he disappeared among Wisconsin players and coaches, obscured from those of us on the far end of the field. Security officers brought him down, and I can only assume pleasantries were exchanged.

I last saw him hands cuffed behind his back, security officers leading him away from the field. I can only assume more pleasantries were exchanged in the bowels of the stadium. Like it or not, the Madtown Dasher’s open field jaunt was the longest of the day by either team, earning him my Run of the Day honors. Do you think beer played a part in his actions? Nah, I didn’t think so either.