I have faithfully attended Syracuse University football
games ever since I was a wee lad. Remember
Archbold Stadium? I attended the very last game in that venerable old
wreck. Got my picture and name in the
paper for helping with the demolition by taking my seat as a souvenir….on a
Wednesday, when I was supposed to be at work.
And yes, I was busted. I attended the very first game in the Carrier
Dome, and most since.
I can distinctly remember when a football game was just that,
a football game. What you saw, seldom consuming
more than 3 hours to play, were two teams battling it out on the field - with
few interruptions or distractions. Football at its essence - put 22 men on the
gridiron, bar the doors, and see who’s left standing at the end of an hour of
play. Grab a hot dog and a beer, and
call it a good day. Throw in a half time show with the band playing a couple of
tunes, and right back to the game. That …. that was football. The focus then
was simply … the game. Imagine that. And
people actually showed up to watch. Lots
of people. Imagine that.
Then, the ineluctable tide of change rolled across Piety
Hill. Money entered the picture, followed quickly by decisions
thought necessary to fuel that most precious of idols. Add television, and the recipe was
complete. It was, in general, the realization that vast sums of money could be
generated by simply tinkering with the game. You see, when man finds out that obscene
amounts of money can be made by engaging in an activity, well, no power on
earth save the law can keep man away.
And even that doesn’t work. To
be clear, it was not an idea of the University’s making. The train was passing; their only decision
was to jump on board or not. It was not
really a choice they had, given their size and commitment to athletics. So, on
they jumped.
I’ve been curious for awhile now to just look at what
changes this train ride has wrought over the years. Finally, I got curious enough to actually do
something about it. So, at a home game last fall, I did an informal, yet
somewhat formal, survey of what has become of our Orangemen.
Today, you are fortunate if you leave the stadium in under 4
hours. Which means that to attend a
football game will require one to devote at least 7 hours of the day to this activity. You are also fortunate if you leave the
stadium with money in your pocket. You
shall certainly leave with ringing in your ears, and a sore butt. And you can count yourself lucky if you are
not seeing double or feeling slightly queasy.
To what can we attribute these consequences that seem so
troublesome? Revenues are fueled, in part, by turning what
should be a football game into a relentless four hour infomercial/ rock
concert. It is an assault of sight and
sound on our senses.
What do I mean? The
most blatant observable example is what I call the “dancing display of
dizziness.” There is a ring of LED lights
that encircles the dome. This scroll
board, so prevalent in stadiums today, is a panel roughly 4’ high, that winds
its way completely around the dome and presents a streaming message in lights …
moving lights … constantly … moving … lights. Pass the barf bag please. And thus are
commercial advertisements thrust into the conscious and subconscious. We don’t have a choice; our eyes behold the
message whether we’re concentrating on it or not. Think of it as the scroll line at the
bottom of your TV screen that distracts you as you try to watch the actual
picture. And you wonder why everyone has
high blood pressure and a touch of ADD.
The attack on our hearing is another matter. Unfortunately, a domed stadium captures sound
and merely bounces it around the interior. It searches for a home and ultimately finds it has no place to go save our tender ears. The University desires to have the Dome be
known as the Loud House, so it puts the sound system in the hands of a direct
descendent of the Marquis de Sade, locked in a soundproof room, with a case
of Bud light at his disposal, and they
instruct him to keep the volume control at Max, no matter what. It isn’t
good enough for them that the fans
actually provide the “loud” in Loud House.
This, no doubt, is meant for the benefit of the younger fans in the
arena. Hearing aid professionals are
giddy with joy every time the music starts.
With this backdrop, I simply decided one game to observe
stuff, and to count stuff …. and to try to watch the game at the same
time. I did not count any commercial activity
happening before the game actually started, and believe me, there was plenty to
watch, even then. I did not count any of
the static advertisements that adorn the dome, even in the oddest of
places. Folks, there are even
advertisements in the men’s room. Gives
you something to read while you’re, well, you know.
Back to the game…during the actual play of the game, in the first quarter only, I did count 158
advertisements on the scrolling light strip from hell. There were probably more
than 158 ads, but I was actually trying to watch a football game more than I
was trying to divide my attention by counting ads as they raced around the room. If the first quarter is any indication, then
by game’s end, there were shown on that board a minimum of 632 advertisements.
Did I mention that is very, very annoying to watch this board, or to try and
ignore it. It can actually make one
queasy if you stare at it long enough.
There were Kiss Cams (I am still waiting for someone to get
really busted over one of these things) and Fan Cams, all shown on the big video screens. Other promotions appeared there as well, and every now and then, they actually showed a replay of a game highlight. In addition, there were little side performances all over
the place, much like a 3 ring circus. They
took place throughout the game, when there were breaks in the action, which
thanks to TV, there were plenty of (never end a sentence with a preposition,
remember that). These consisted of quick presentations (think plaques) to people, seat improvement promotions or contests, usually in the corner of the end zone. Superfluous.
And because of that TV influence, there exists - the man in red. Whenever there is an opportunity for a TV
commercial, he hustles onto the field of play, easily recognized by his white
pants and red shirt. Everything
stops. He immediately assumes control,
and with his authoritarian stance, arms folded, he and he alone now dictates
the pace and play of the game. Only when
he retreats from the field, does play begin again. He does this a lot during the game. Everybody
hates him.
Finally, there’s the matter of scheduling, which should fill
an entire post-plus, as it is perhaps the most annoying aspect of the entire
experience. In short – college football
games used to be played on Saturday afternoons in the fall. Now, you can find them being played starting
in August, and on Thursdays and Fridays, as well as Saturdays. And games can now start at 7 or 8PM. Just what the average fan simply loves, a
late game that guarantees you won’t be home till at least 1 AM the following
day. It is not unusual for the game date and/or time to be finalized mere days
or weeks before it is actually played, which makes it impossible to plan any
important events in one’s life. And don't get me started on the grand scheme of playing some games in New York City, while we get to watch the likes of Stony Brook.
And there you have it. Nowadays, it seems as if I'm attending a glorious 4 hour informercial, and for our entertainment between those commercials, they throw in a football game.
So, is all lost here?
Does college football, as it was originally designed, now sleep with the
dinosaurs? Well, for the most part,
yes. But there are still pockets of
those idyllic movie like settings where a football game is simply, a football
game. Or something very close to
one. Locally, on any given gorgeous fall
afternoon, you can head to Colgate, Alfred, St. John Fisher, Cortland, or
Brockport. Want a nice fall trip for a
game and fit in a New England visit as well?
Jump on the pike and head for one of my favorite towns to watch Holy
Cross play in a nice little open air stadium on a beautiful college campus in
Worcester, Mass. Football, as it was
meant to be played.
So, that over, what’s my point here? Am I just some old fart fan bitching? Well, yes, partly. But I echo the sentiments of many SU faithful. Fans in our section make the same
observations and comments. We know the University has a tenuous relationship
with its fans, and they are probably marketing now to what they see as the
future, ie, to the young fans and current youth. But as I look around the dome
now, I see many, many more heads dotted with grey than any other demographic. They are the ones spending the money, and
will be doing so for years to come. And
those youth they covet….they will probably be moving on as soon as they
can. I mean, who wants to spend a winter
like this around here?
Which takes me to the reason I’m probably writing this in the first place. The short name
for it is Seasonal Affective Disorder.
Or, as it is known around these parts - winter means going nuts. This winter from hell is the breaking point
for many people I suspect, if I can gauge a mood out there. We haven't a terrible overload of snow…yet….but we're working on it. Winter has certainly been one depressing stretch of weather after another. We no sooner get through a bad period, when the
Weather Channel proudly announces yet another Nor’easter is marching up the
coast. When Jim Cantore shows up in your town, you know the worst is not far behind. Wind, snow, and temperature have just beaten us down, and I
for one am depressed to the point that I think I can actually see the end of my
rope, and it isn’t far away. I guess
that’s as good a reason as any to write something like this. Spring, where art thou?
Mark Twain Quote: “Cold!
If the thermometer had been an inch longer we’d all have frozen to
death.”
