At a recent University of Wisconsin football game, I had my first encounter with the Ohio State Buckeye fans, and boy, am I a better man for it. They showed me just how much fun it can be to boo thy neighbor.
Our beloved Wisconsin Badgers recently travelled to the Big Ten Championship game in Indianapolis, where we dueled the dreaded Ohio State Buckeyes. The “game” was more like a disemboweling, as the Buckeyes decimated us to the tune of 59-zip. Yeeowch.
As if that wasn’t painful enough, we were subjected to what some might consider “boorish” behavior on the part of the Buckeye faithful. Case(s) in point:
- When the Badger band took the field, the Buckeye faithful booed.
- When they flashed a sweet little boy on the video screen, adorned in his little Badger jersey, the Buckeye faithful booed.
- When they flashed on the video screen a picture of humanitarian of the year Brian Griese, a Michigan alum, the Buckeye faithful booed so loudly we couldn’t hear the announcer recite his charitable endeavors.
If you’re keeping score at home, they booed a group of musicians, a little boy, and a humanitarian.
The knee-jerk reaction might be to call these folks louts and classless oafs, but my faithful readers know that’s not a formula for grand epiphanies. One must look beneath the surface to find the true genius in showing no discretion and taking sports a little too seriously.
All those Buckeye fans seemed to be really enjoying booing musicians, little children, and humanitarians, and I realized why.
Life is so easy when it’s black and white. Hey, if you’re not with us, you’re against us. It’s just that simple.
Why should that thought process stop on the gridiron? People who aren’t wearing any Badger paraphernalia – whether they’re at the game or not – are obviously for the other team. If I was a true fan, like the OSU faithful, I would need to do my part to support the Badgers – 24×7.
Better Be Red or Yer Dead
I travelled to the local grocery store, where I saw an elderly woman, slowly walking toward the entrance. She didn’t have on a shred of Badger red. The opposition!
“You suck!” I screamed at the top of my lungs. The woman gasped and clutched her handbag.
“Yeah, you better be scared of BIG RED!” I topped off the assault.
Inside the store, I saw more non-fans. Some woman, dressed in a dark-blue business suit, was perusing the cold cuts. “Picking out some lunch meat? Well you’re dead meat!” I thumped my Bucky shirt.
Wouldn’t you know it, the bitch pepper-sprayed me!
“We’ll get you in the second half, you hag!” I screamed as I writhed on the ground in pain.
What I assumed to be fellow Badger fans ushered me outdoors, likely so I could clear my head and get back in the game. Alas, they were security guards for the store, aka more non-fans/enemies. The bastards hurled me into a dumpster.
I was suddenly face-to-face with another non-fan. A dumpster-diving racoon! Now a racoon is not a badger, and so obviously he was for the other team. He gazed up at menacingly, teeth bared.
“Here we go,” I snarled. “Badger on racoon. Mano-a a rodent-o.”
We did battle, raging for hours in the uncozy confines of the dumpster. I’m sorry to report to all my fellow Badger fans that the coon ripped me a new one, literally, spilling my innards out with some serious gashes to the abdomen.
Lying here, intestines spilled in a dumpster, some may question my decision to follow the lead of the Buckeye fans. They may say I took it too far.
To them, I say a quitter never wins, and a winner never quits. In this case, a winner never quits booing. So if you’re reading this, and you’re not wearing Badger red, beware. As soon as I scoop my entrails back into my abdomen, I’m coming for you too.