Idaho

Game Day.

You wake up early in the morning, throw on some flops and head outside. The truck needs to get packed. The mental checklist is whirring in your head as you load tents, tables, chairs, coolers, television, flags, games, generators, food and all the tailgate supplies needed to entertain 50 of your closest friends come rain or shine. By the time the sun has peeked over the moss-draped trees in Tallahassee, your garnet hauler is about 400 pounds heavier and thanks to 95% humidity at 7:30 am, you are 5 pounds lighter. Shower and dress quick because the tailgate spaces are not awarded to the best looking vehicles, only the first to arrive...

The leaves part as you drive up and down the gentle hills leading to America's prettiest campus. You crest the Capitol downtown summit and for the first time see in the distance Westcott and its' fountain majestically begging you to forget about the brakes and silly red lights in between. But, your destiny lies on the other side of all these red brick and (in)spired buildings. The chains to the lots drop and the waves of laden-down cars and trucks lumber to their favorite spaces spread out all over the campus. What was a weekly home to academia becomes a sea of garnet and gold tents, old championship flags waving, wispy grill smoke, flying footballs, bean bags and young co-ed laughter.

Close and thought-lost friends seem to arrive every few minutes and hugs and handshakes surround the plethora of incredibly unhealthy food spread across multiple tables. You hear the police escorts bringing the teams and a special horse in the background, and the rhythmic beat of the drum corps playing just steps away seems to urge you on to attempt caloric intake never thought possible on a normal Saturday. Kids seem to grow weekly and the realization that your own will be "stopping by" on their way to the game ages you even as you feel deep down that you can still toss the football and a keg just like you could (gulp) 30 years ago. Then, in a flash, the passing crowds start to go by in heavier doses and like garnet zombies being called home, we realize that it is time to head inside the Stadium.

Excited kids yank on their parents clothes in an attempt to make walking conversations slow down and feet to move faster. As you enter Doak, you circle right so you can pass by Chief Osceola being painted and primed for a later appearance. The three most comfortable places in the Stadium; the suites, the press box and 500 wonderfully air conditioned square feet around Renegade.  You then pass Football alumni gathering in one corner waiting for their turn to enter the field sidelines and watch their successors attempt to live up to their lofty heights. Finally time to turn and head up to your well-funded plot in this ocean of aluminum and brick. People you see only six times a year are greeted like found relatives from the old country. Our current heroes stretch and jog below and the band plays "Old Time Religion" as we adjust our hats and glasses to curtail the oncoming oppression that makes opponents wilt.

The PA system blares the lineups and combatants march off to their locker rooms. A ginormous garage door in one end zone that makes any man jealous rises and the largest collegiate band in America comes streaming out to midfield as we chant their name. Surrounded by the best recruiting tools in football in the golden girls and cheerleaders, the ritual songs are greeted in rote by young and old alike. Proud parents watch as what was drilled at home from just beyond birth to repeated efforts in the car ride today is put into practice. Yes! She said "Scalp 'em" at just the right time...

The tubas circle and the human corral is formed. Elbows working in perfect precision, we roar and chant primally as Osceola and Renegade come flying from one end of Doak to the other with a spear lit for the first time. Right behind them are our heroes seem to be shot out of a cannon and backed by the fireworks to prove it, the current edition of our Noles blitz through the unique Peterson goal posts and amass on the sideline waiting for the signal.

Finally, we rise as one as Renegade gallops to midfield; and as the small hair on our arms and necks begin to tingle, he brings to crescendo the excitement we have been building towards. The powerful front hooves of Renegade lift off the ground, the flaming spear hits our logo and the challenge has been thrown. Game day is now game time.

As much as I would love to regale everyone with tales of the greatness that was witnessed Saturday in this 80 point drubbing, or tangentially marginalize the national story that is Jameis attempt to woo white co-eds, I am not going to do it. This was the end to the inarguably greatest home season in FSU Seminole football history. The closest game was a 27 point whooping, and most games were over before our weight challenged preacher broke a sweat. Many of you love the incredibly heart stopping close victories, and I guess as long as they work out I do too. But, for my ever increasing blood pressure, give me a home season just like this one please. Well done Seminoles!! Thanks for a truly great 2013 in Doak...

See you next year at home, and for the idiots like us...in Gainesville, Charlotte and hopefully Pasadena in early 2014. Go Noles!