Desert Time

The season of meaningful football games is upon us.  Before I lose all you non-sports fans, this isn't a story about football.  It is a story about a boy wanting to be accepted but struggling with peer pressure and low confidence.

It had been tradition that whichever team won the Big 8 (now the Big 12) conference goes on to play in the Orange Bowl.  To signify this, after the first Tiger points of the season, the fans would throw oranges on the field as a symbol of good things to come…  

Flash back to the year 2000 (I think).  It was my birthday weekend, Labor day weekend.  My parents were in town at Mizzou to wish me a happy birthday and to watch a Tigers football game.

my parents got tickets oh about 2 sections over and about 20 rows back from my season tickets.  I sat wearing my MU Tigers hockey jersey and tiger tail alongside some friends from Newman, some of whom had long hair or twin brothers.  The Tigers kicked a field goal (3 points) and my "friends" start passing out the oranges from the bag they smuggled into the stadium.  I stood, contemplating what to do.  "what if I am the only one throwing an orange?  Do I throw it as far as I can?"

Anyway, I look around and dozens of oranges are flying overhead and onto the field.  I make up my mind and give it a heave.  The long haired friend (we will call him Rick, for anonymity's sake) compliments me on my nice distance.  The next thing I know, the on-field security lady is blowing her whistle at me and pointing, saying "you, there, yes you, come here!"

Flash forward to the cool part.  I get taken onto the field along with the twin from SMSU, with 50000 cheering screaming fans rooting me on.  I heard many a student yelling "DUUDE, you're my Hero!"  After being escorted out and told that if we came back to the game, we could be arrested for tresspassing, twin and I went back to my apartment to watch the game on TV.

Moments, yes moments, after walking in the door, I receive a call from (name is changed to protect identity) Rob, the other half of said twin.  He says, "We are getting you back into the game."  I say, "What?"  He says, "we're getting you back into the game."  I say "ok".

so to protect against getting arrested, the tiger tail and hockey jersey get left at home in exchange for a boring white tee shirt and a hat.  The two of us put some ink on our hands and smeared it around (as if we had gotten our hand stamped upon exiting the game), and walked a mile back to the game.  We flashed our stubs and our counterfeit hand stamps and walked back into the game.  The one problem was that we couldn't go back to our old seats.  Too risky. 

So I go sit up with my parents, who, being the detectives they are, noticed I completely changed my appearance.  They asked what happened to my jersey, and I said that I went home at halftime and took it off because it was too hot.  (it was at least 2 miles round trip, seriously, who would be too hot, and then run 2 miles in 15 minutes to lose a layer?)  The important thing is that they bought it, and we watched the fireworks together at the end of the game.  To this day, they don't know what really happened on that hot September day.

Enjoy the Orange Bowl tomorrow, and think of me!

PS-Orange you glad we weren't going to the Gator bowl?  That would have been more painful to sneak into the game!