CHICAGO - Dirt Glazowski and I are wrapping up our Midwest swing. On Saturday, we descended upon tiny Iowa City for the Ohio State/Iowa game. It dredged up a lot of torment for both of us. Although we've chosen to live elsewhere, we both pine for the midwest every single day. I'm not gonna turn this into another Seattle rant, so let's just say it's been melancholy.
Dirt was a captain on Iowa's football team long ago, and as such, his experience at home games is nothing I recognized. Everyone knows him. Everyone feeds and houses him. Women 20 years his junior draped themselves on him, or tried to. Me, I shook hands with so many 300+ pound, testosterone-laden NFL players that I reinjured my elbow.
When I was shoving a bratwurst into my mouth and watching the early games on a plasma literally coat-hangered to the side of an RV, a random guy strolled up to say hi. "Hi, I'm Jay Hilgenburg," he said unnecessarily, torquing my elbow ligaments into paste.
"Where's your ring?" I managed not to reply, even though my every cell wanted to.
Dirt chimed in like he would a hundred times that day. He told me a player's Iowa credentials and concluded with "And John here went to Ohio State. He tutored Alonzo Spellman."
The players were even less impressed than you are. Some commented that given Spellman's mental breakdown that ended with him running around naked in the streets, I'd done a particularly impressive job.
Dirt skewered me thusly all day long, but I didn't mind, 'cause it's not often you drink with All Pros, All Americans, and world champs. The day concluded as I knew it would, with the good guys quieting the drunken Iowa crowd in short order.
Like all fans, Iowa folks think they're the best in football. They're certainly top tier in enthusiasm, but they leave a lot to be desired when it comes to actually watching the game. When Iowa held Ohio State to only four yards on 1st and 10, they cheered. When Iowa passed for 8 yards on third and 15, they cheered. When Iowa was driving for a score, the players repeatedly had to tell the crowd to shut up. Got the idea? Throw in that drunks formed human pyramids on the bleachers and that I saw, in fact, maybe six plays the first half, and you have a pretty irritating experience. After considering, at length, how to make a shiv out of my polarizer lens, I left at halftime to go watch the game on TV.
Not seeing the first half and watching the second half on TV in Iowa instead of in my living room cost me $1500. Good times.