The drunkest I’ve ever been at a sporting event in my life: it’s actually a tie between last year’s Stanford game and this year’s Stanford game. It’s one of those things, though, where you don’t plan on being blackout drunk going into the day. You play some beer pong, you keep winning, you play some more, then it’s time to walk over to the game, you think, “Oh, good, I’ll sober up now while I watch some football.” Then your friend pulls out a bottle of rum and coke and you think, “What the fuck was I just talking about? WOO, booze!”
And then you look up and Stanford just put up 31 consecutive points to take a commanding 5 billion to 14 lead.
Or, it’s last year, it’s pissing down rain, and you’re sitting on top of your seat-back with your head bobbing down around your chest as you drool onto your rain poncho, only waking up every time you heard the Stanford section roar after yet another score.
My point is: maybe something inside secretly knows that these aren’t games I want any part of remembering.
Which is too bad, because up until 5pm on Saturday my weekend was going swimmingly. We were slapping together an impromptu tailgate. My friend borrowed a beer pong table, we bought 114 beers (including two 30-packs of Keystone Light, because that’s how we roll), we figured out a GENIUS way of keeping our beer cold (by purchasing a box of Glad Force Flex garbage bags and putting one case of beer with one large bag of ice into one garbage bag – four in total for our party), we made a little Keith Stone flag out of part of the Keystone box. The weather was spectacular; it was a great day!
At Stanford, they have you park in this grassy lot. But, nobody really tailgates there (even though it’s allowed), so we got to spread out and we weren’t bothered by anyone. Peeing proved to be difficult, because there were no bathrooms. But, we soldiered on.
Being at the game was an okay experience too. For two long Chris Polk touchdowns, we were happier than pigs in shit. They stuck us in this 300-level section by one of the endzones, so there was a nice collective of Husky fans in attendance. And, really, I don’t remember any altercations with Stanford fans either; it was all very civil (the closest thing to unrest was when some fellow Husky fan shushed me for saying “Fuck this shit!” a little too often; I like to believe I showed a tremendous amount of drunken restraint not to tell him to go fuck himself).
Anyway, after we pulled to within 3 in the second quarter, the weekend took a huge turn for the worse. I’ve got the scratches and bruises all down my legs to prove it. Word to the wise: if you’ve been drinking for the better part of 9 hours, don’t follow that up with a night of sake bombing unless you damn well eat something in the interim!
As for the game, I’ve got nothing to say. Here’s what happened: Polk got his second TD run to pull it to 17-14 and it looked like we were in for a really exciting, no-defense kind of game. Next play from scrimmage: Touchdown Stanford. Then we drive, it stalls, we miss a field goal. Stanford drive: touchdown. We work our way back into Stanford territory: Pick Six. We get the ball, drive, end of half. We start with the ball in the third quarter: 3 & Out. Stanford: touchdown. Washington: 3 & Out. Stanford: field goal. Washington: 3 & Out. Stanford: punts FINALLY. Washington: TD. And then, from there, who gives a shit?
I’m not going to say this game was worse than last year’s; because at least this one was interesting for part of the first half. But, it was certainly no less demoralizing.
I hate Stanford. I hate them so, so much.