The Tale (Gating) of College Football

Sniff. Sniff. Sniff. Can you smell it? Fall is approaching. It’s an unmistakable aroma of crisp leaves, warm apple cider and bratwurst being charred over an open flame in the parking lot of a college football stadium. Ahh. Yes. It’s about time for the greatest tradition of college football: tailgating.

After extensive research into this subject (it took several six packs, grilled sausages of all kinds, a bottle of mustard and a vat of chili) I have discovered three types of tailgate parties: little league, minor league and major league.

The little league tailgaters are totally out-matched. These pee-wees get game tickets at the last minute, grab some beers and chips, and arrive at the stadium within a half hour of kickoff.

Their inexperience is glaring. Often times they don’t wear any clothes with the school colors. They’re rushed to find their seat, but are never quite sure where to go, much like a little leaguer told to cover the right tackle. (Which side is my right?) These beginners are intrigued by the wild parties next to the stadium entrance and wonder how the crazy people get such good parking spots.

The minor league tailgater, a step above the naïve newcomers, will show up a couple hours before game time with tickets in hand, lunch meat sandwiches, store-bought potato salad, and a variety of chips and dips. Each game they become more skillful and adventurous, inspired and amazed by the experts.

By the end of the football season minor leaguers will venture into the world of the portable grill. It’s important to note that they only grill hot dogs or bratwurst and they never bring spicy mustard. (A sure sign of inexperience.) They have one cooler for alcohol and it’s usually cheap beer. These tailgaters are often alumni of the school and have the sweatshirts, coats and hats to prove it.

The major league tailgaters are playing a whole different ball game. They have better uniforms, better equipment, and they’re so talented that people will stop whatever they’re doing to stand and watch them. The pros arrive six hours before kickoff with a spread of food that would make an all-you-can-eat buffet in Las Vegas blush. They park their convoy of campers, mini-vans and sport utility vehicles mere feet from the entrance to the stadium.

They drape their vehicles with school flags and banners, blast a tape of the marching band and the men, each armed with a bottle of lighter fluid, begin the weekly fire building ritual.

The first rule of the big leagues is that anything and everything can be grilled; whole lobsters, porterhouse, barbecue ribs, corn on the cob and jerseys from the opposing team. Part of the flame should be reserved for a kettle of homemade chili, which always has a base of beer or bourbon or both.

To compete in the big leagues you must have a variety of beverages. At minimum, you need different kinds of beer, a battery powered blender to make margaritas and daiquiris, a thermos of coffee, and a bottle of bourbon (for the chili and the coffee). All beverages are poured into plastic souvenir cups.

These partiers love big hats and crazy pants, and every one of them has either a watch or a credit card sporting the college logo or mascot on it. One item, maybe their hat, shirt or even socks will play the school fight song if you push the right spot.

While all of this sounds like a lot of fun, don’t be fooled. Being a major league tailgater is hard work involving long weekend hours. Remember these are professionals. If you’re curious, your best bet is to get invited to a major league tailgate party. If that happens, never arrive empty handed, always wear the home school’s colors and try not to stare.