Across the country, triumphant blaring pours from marching bands. Young women in multicolored skirts and bows are sent somersaulting toward the sky. Irate spectators enlist an extensive vocabulary to threaten referees with bodily harm.
College football is practically synonymous with its traditions. But like a closet stuffed with years of ill-fitting, outdated apparel, the beloved sport is in dire need of decluttering. Spring training may be on hiatus for our favorite athletes, but it is high time for some spring cleaning.
Obviously, some facets of the game are untouchable. You wouldn’t haphazardly toss out your lucky hoodie, nor would you dismiss fight songs or cheerleading. No, today we bid farewell to the dreary clichés that just take up space each fall.
Awful tailgate food
Before you even enter the stadium, your senses are treated to the intermingling aromas of charcoal and cheap beer. Collapsible tables are laden with almost anything that fits on the end of a toothpick.
Unfortunately, not every pregame appetizer is worthy of the paper plate upon which it rests. The worst offender is indubitably the party sub, or as some may call it, shredded lettuce garnished with white bread.
You search desperately for a slice of turkey amid the leafy sea. Alas, like the Titanic’s doomed voyage, there’s nothing but iceberg, right ahead.
When at last you’ve slain the crunchy beast, you’re left with a bun so soggy you could wring it out and fill a Solo Cup.
Tidy up your game day diet as you would a crowded miscellaneous junk drawer. Consider occupying your limited stomach room with superior flavors like chicken wings, potato skins or a literal napkin. Party sub toppings are essentially indistinguishable from old receipts in terms of texture and taste, anyway.
Singing “Seven Nation Army”
To many football fans, not belting out the White Stripes’ 2003 hit every few minutes sounds blasphemous. I agree the tune is something of a modern classic, but it is also proof of why we can’t have nice things.
In any given college football arena, the most musically inclined individuals tend to be those wielding a tuba or a similarly spittle-coated brass implement. The rest of us keeping a beat are typically a bit less rhythmically gifted and a great deal more inebriated.
Overpriced water bottles at the concessions result in thousands of sun-baked, dehydrated students with little other than salt and grain alcohol in their stomachs. Simply crooning the ABCs could pose a challenge for particular members of this slurring, incoherent choir.
Singing "Seven Nation Army" is akin to wearing a hilariously oversized sweatshirt you’ve been reluctant to discard. Both bring comfort, but at the grave expense of looking kind of stupid.
Chanting “We Want Bama”
No, you really don’t. I understand it’s sarcastic and gives attendees something to do between their school’s several punts. Regardless — you want “Bama” roughly as much as Bambi wants hunting season.
This passé battle cry reeks of desperation like your dad's forgotten prom tuxedo does mothballs. Your T-shirts don’t mind whether you are emotionally attached to them, and University of Alabama head coach Nick Saban certainly doesn’t care about a team that treats a Cheez-It Bowl berth like the National Championship.
Look, I get it. I won’t fault anyone for doing what’s easy. Reciting “we want Bama” is putting a carton of ice cream back in the freezer with hardly a spoonful left. It’s Retweeting a Barstool Sports tweet to show you have a sense of humor while not actually having to think of a joke.
If you truly insist on spewing this tired phrase, might I suggest investing in some extra padding for the hindquarters of your sweatpants? It may come in handy if the Crimson Tide ever do come to town.
