LSU vs. Florida

I spent this warm, sunny day, which would have been John Lennon’s 70th birthday but for a psychotic, exploring the University of Florida campus, resting, then attending the LSU vs. Florida game in the Swamp. All in all, a really banner day.

I made it over to campus around 11 and already tailgating was in full force. I’m excited to report that Tiger Nation was representing in full force; maybe one in every four tailgates was an LSU party. All around me, country music and the play-by-play of first the Georgia-Tennessee game and then the Alabama-South Carolina game were blaring. Barbecue, fish fry, crawfish boil, and meat smoker smells drifted around campus all afternoon. Tons of people had come from all over in RVs. The collection of creature comforts was staggering. Lots of tailgates had portable generators, satellite dishes for oversize flat screen hi-definition TVs, professional-grade grills and barbecue pits, and portable cool-air misting machines (like you see on the sidelines with players sitting next to them). And don’t forget the inflatable Florida Gators at just about every other tailgate. I guess there wasn’t a NASCAR race this weekend. Cars and tailgaters eventually took up nearly all the open space on campus that the police had not roped off. A huge number of tailgaters lined the stunning shores of Lake Alice, located on the west side of campus. That’s all fine, but there’s alligators in that lake. Like, for real. I saw at least four of them in the water within about 20 feet of the shore. I also saw about 10-12 large turtles swimming near the bank, and a blue heron in flight. Signs warned people not to feed the gators. Uh, anyone that has to be warned not to get close enough to an alligator to feed it pretty much deserves what they’ve got coming. What was most alarming, however, was seeing the infants and small kids within about 30 yards of alligators lining the banks. I’m not a parent, but if I had a little baby or toddler, I think I might set up camp closer to the corn dog stand than the wild alligator den. Just to be on the safe side.

The Florida campus is extraordinarily widespread and sprawling. Unlike Texas or Texas A&M, or even LSU or other campuses, Florida apparently has all its professional schools on one campus. So, Florida has all its medical, veterinary, and agricultural facilities on the same campus as its undergraduate and other advanced and professional degree-related facilities. This accounts for the incredible acreage. Additionally, Florida’s campus designers have done an amazing job of not only building around some really beautiful natural wetland features (streams, creeks, ponds, and even Lake Alice), and various woods. Not only have they preserved these spots, the designers have actually integrated them into the campus. Ponds, creeks and woods have adjacent viewing platforms and nature trails. Campus buildings in close proximity seem to disappear when you duck into these spots. These places are really treasures. Exquisite oaks with Spanish moss provide shady canopy. Tall palms, and some sort of maple-looking trees also abound all through campus. Hopefully, these kids appreciate being able to walk just a few steps to exchange school stress for the peace and tranquility of the woods. And they don’t even need a fake ID to chill. Even aside from the preserves and the ponds, the Florida campus’ buildings seem to be deposited into nature. Parking seems minimal and unobtrusive (many garages ring the campus), and buildings are separated by expanses of grass lawns and amazing trees.

On the other hand, the buildings suck. With a few notable exceptions, such as the classic Century Tower or the engineering building, the Florida campus seems to have been designed using a 1960s fallout shelter design manual. Every building uses some sort of not-red but not-orange brick. Many look like that building where Major Nelson worked in I Dream of Jeannie. These buildings make my Dad’s old telephone company buildings look like the Palace at Versailles.

Campus became more and more packed as time wore on, of course. Lots of students were on campus, going about their day or going to parties at fraternity houses or other buildings. Lots of students got together in groups of six or eight with a cooler and blanket, lay out on the grass and tossed the football (no Frisbee or hackysacks, I’m pleased to report—those things were tired 30 years ago. It’s a football game day, toss the football.). One sort of questionable practice that has gripped the Florida pre-game is the widespread play of a bean bag toss game known, rather ineloquently, as “cornhole.” Basically, you toss bean bags at a platform made to resemble half of a football field, with two holes in the platform. Put the bag in the hole, score points. Everyone was playing it. Everyone from Florida, that is. Happily, I didn’t see many LSU fans playing this game. Don’t these people have anything else to do? Like playing Madden ’10, or cards, or talking, or throwing the football, reading a book, watching other games on TV, solving the Israel-Palestine dispute…? I mean, even the fraternity kids were playing this stupid game outside their houses, with their dates looking on in a sort of hypnotically bored funk. What’s wrong with these kids? They need a more suitable college-age hobby, like cheating on tests or drugs. Hey Florida frat guys, the dance scene at the gym in West Side Story called. It thinks you’re really lame.

Unlike some other tailgates I’ve seen, there didn’t appear to be a lot of loud, obnoxious drunks. Everyone seemed to be having a good time. Nor did there appear to be much hostility between the Floridians and the numerous LSU fans sporting their gear. That pretty much held up as the game approached and during the game. Though I’ve seen some reports on some LSU web sites about Florida fan abuse, I didn’t see or encounter any, even though I was wearing my LSU polo shirt.

The game itself was pretty amazing. As many of you know, it was another typical Les Miles, go down to the last play affair. I was just about as interested in the scene as the game, however. The Florida crowd consisted of a lot of insurance salesman looking types, and botoxed, collagen and breast implanted women of all ages. Apparently, black tank tops with rhinestone gator emblems is a thing. Florida fans, not the students but the fans, all sport cheap tans as well. Florida really has fan access figured out, relying on an extensive park and ride system that shuttles fans in from remote locations. By some coincidence, I rode a bus that was filled with LSU fans. Even before the bus left the station, they were leading cheers and talking loud. Geaux Tigers! Tiger Nation really showed up. I was shocked at how many LSU fans I saw heading into the stadium. We arrived at a spot right next to where the LSU band was warming up, and on a lark, I walked alongside them as they marched into the stadium. Unfortunately, they didn’t march at halftime. No, that honor was reserved for the Florida band, clad in its 1969 Pete Townshend white polyester bodysuit (like the one he wore at Woodstock), replete with blue Professor Harold Hill hat with a really sweet white feather. They played 70s album rock songs for about 15 minutes. Yawn. We’d have been much better getting to see the Golden Girls. Back outside the stadium, however, the Hare Krishnas were dancing in the north end zone. Is it 1971? That’s something I’ve never seen, even in Austin.

The game experience itself was really interesting. The Gators came out wearing special orange jerseys. They hadn’t worn orange since 1988. That’s just goofy. Texas has it right. Pick a color, stay with it. I managed to score an awesome seat, in the front row near the back of the end zone. It was about 10 yards down from the Florida cheerleaders, who by the way are not as great as LSU, Ole Miss, Bama or Texas. In fact, they weren’t even as good as the Washington cheerleaders at the Ohio State game I saw a few years ago. In the first half, the Swamp was loud but nothing comparable to Death Valley or Kyle Field. The Florida fans surrounding me were jumping ship at the first sign of trouble, even though it remained a close game. But after LSU fave up two gimme touchdowns to let Florida back into the game, the stadium got really loud. Jet engine loud. I could feel the vibrations. One thing I need to mention. Towards the end as the game stayed close, the loudspeakers piped in pre-recorded music that completely drowned out their band. The same kind of music played in NBA arenas towards during time outs. I understand other stadiums throughout the country are following suit. This is pretty disturbing. This is college, not the NFL. Its not a show. The thing still makes college athletics more palatable than the pros is that, although commercialism has greatly expanded in the college game, its still nowhere near the pro games. But as the in-stadium experience becomes more and more similar to NFL and NBA games, that special experience will disappear in the process. Let’s hear the band, not a tape. The Tigers won on what at first seemed like a questionable touchdown call. On the jumbotron, it looked like LSU’s receiver was out of bounds. What was really amazing though was that in the span of about five seconds, that stadium went from rumbling with screaming fans to deadly silent. Once the referees threw both hands up, the air was let out of that balloon. It was sweet. Florida fans everywhere began sulking about how the refs stole the game. That’s hilarious. Close calls usually always go in the home team’s favor. Waiting for the bus on the way home, some LSU guys in front of me told a story about their buddy who was drunk by kickoff and spilled all his nacho cheese on a girl's seat. The cops came, smelled his gatorade bottle and tossed him out. Then he got mad at his buddies for staying behind to watch the game instead of joining him outside. Can you blame them? Just another game night in the SEC.

Next-on to Savannah.