My first Big Game
Though the result was not to my liking, yesterday’s Iowa State-Iowa game was the first Big Game I have been to in person. (“Big Game” seems to be the DMR’s nickname for the game. I do not think anyone else uses it.)
My gut feeling was that the Hawks would fall for the second straight year but I was eager to experience the rivalry in the flesh. Having watched it on TV since at least the early-nineties, I was always under the impression that the atmosphere was tense and combative. In the morning I walked to the farmer’s market and passed a group of drunk Cyclone fans (at nine o’clock!) standing on the corner of Washington and Lucas. They were heckling sorority girls. “Have fun getting your ass kicked today!” one of them yelled to two girls as I approached. I thought, “Man. It’s nine in the morning and these motherfuckers already think they run this town.” I thought I was in for a long day of drunken harassment from everyone wearing cardinal and gold. However, after my dad and I arrived at the stadium, we saw Cyclone and Hawkeye fans tailgating and drinking together. Everyone was civil and respectful. It was cool to see. Only the real assholes were taunting each other and being a general nuisance.
Respect. I always respect visiting fans, no matter how much I hate their team. And I expect the same from them. We may be cheering for different teams but we can enjoy the game together. And that is what happened in the stands during the game. There were not many Cyclone fans next to us, but they were peppered throughout the North Stand. Iowa State’s band was a few rows below us and a ribbon of cardinal ran across the width of the end zone. Their arms and voices rose when everyone in black and gold remained seated and silent. Though aggravating, it was cool to see. I had never been to Kinnick when so many visiting fans were present.
Though I was surprised that the atmosphere was so civil, I was even more surprised by how much more palatable the loss was in person. Of course I hated it when the Iowa State bench spilled onto the field when the game-clinching interception was secured, but I was far from crushed. Perhaps my prophetic hunch, and the undeserving play of the Hawkeye offense, helped. But I think the experience of being there was a big part of it. It was what it was and there was nothing I could do about it. I could not change the channel; I had to sit there and take it.
After the game, though, tensions flared. We walked back along Newton Road and the Iowa Avenue bridge to the Pentacrest and downtown. A couple dumbass, college-age Cyclone fans taunted us and rubbed the loss in our faces, and the macho Hawkeye fans responded in-kind. It kind of pissed me off, but if you dish out disrespect you deserve to have it thrown back in your face. Maybe in the form of a fist. After returning home I thought it was amazing nobody has been killed since the rivalry was renewed.
Nonetheless, I am looking forward for the next time Iowa State rolls into town in 2014. The result of that game will hopefully be in the black and gold’s favor.
