I don't know you. I am not on the "bash Oldngrizzly' wagon. You are entitled to your opinion.
If you don't feel the soul of a game played in Wa-Griz vibrating in your chest, then you’re just wasting oxygen in the stands.
Going to and watching Griz games isn't just a hobby for most of us.
For me the ritual starts the night before with a restless itch. I scour websites reading stats, interviews, and watching last week's game to see what the guys did right or wrong and wondering if they will change something for the game the next day, and listen to podcasts i have already listened to twice that week.
Waking up on Game Day, the air tastes different. My family discusses the coaches, players, speculates about what plays will be called over breakfast, but that's just fueling the fire. This isn't just a trip to a stadium; it’s a journey home to 25,000 people who make up a dedicated tribe. We load up the bags and car and head to Missoula.
There is nothing like the moment right before the team storms out of the tunnel to "Bring 'em out now". That "calm" that isn't calm at all. It’s the band clashing with the stadium speakers, a powerful collision of sound that gets drowned out by a roar so loud it feels like the mountains themselves are screaming. There is a rhythm to it: the standing, the sitting, and the relentless, spirited back-and-forth with the brave souls wearing the away colors.
Every part of it matters. Every part of it is sacred to the experience, long lines for concession food, aroma of the tailgates, haze of forest fires, chili, hamburgers, hot dogs and ribs drifting through the air.
It's the chaos of kids playing and old friends getting together is the heartbeat of the day. Watching the skydivers and feeling the thunder of jets overhead creates a sense of pride and spectacle that defines the atmosphere. Even the ringing in the ears for hours and the loss of a voice for a day or two are badges of honor. It’s about the wave, the beach balls, and watching Monte surf over a sea of maroon. At the end of it all, when the Griz get the W it's waiting in the stands for them to finish singing the fight song before going down to the field to talk with players.
Dude, complaining about the schedule misses the point entirely.
It doesn’t matter if the opponent is the top-ranked team in the nation or an underdog. Any schmuck can analyze a stat sheet; you go to games and and watch parties to live and breathe Griz football.
Watching from a couch in the silence of a living room, yelling at a screen, can lead to a apathy and foments a bitterness that replaces the love for the game. If the magic isn't present in every game, for you, then change the channel, find another team to be a fan of, and enjoy the generic national broadcast.
Griz football is a living, breathing tradition. If one isn't there for the heartbeat of the community and the passion of the crowd, then they are missing the very essence of the sport.
