LSU v Oregon

I've finally decided I need a job. This conclusion brought to you by a need to support my college football drinking habit. What a glorious first Saturday of the season!

I went to the new LSU bar because it is a bar I endorse even when it's not an LSU bar. It's chill, it's around the corner from my dad's work where I can park in police car only parking with impunity, and it turns out I made friends with the bartenders on my own BEFORE they found out who I was related to and started calling me my brother's sister/father's daughter.

I've sporadically over the years attended game watching at whatever the LSU bar was and it's always been a pretty anticlimactic event. Not enough lead time to know where it was, I'd already have other plans, the crowd skewed older and not that fun, the bars were in inconvenient locations, no one cheered loudly or had witty banter, not loud enough sound, no playing of the fight song...just all around failure to bring it. I preferred watching from the safety of my own couch with my own beverages instead of with a bunch of strangers who weren't very engaging. Which is surprising, considering Southerners are famously chatty and warm. All those opinions were changed with heading to North Star for a huge matchup with the Ducks to start the season.

I knew it would be fun when we walked in and while I waited to get a beer at the front of the bar, I end up standing next to a drunk guy with a Navy jersey on and a big giant academy ring on. The LSU bar also happens to be the Navy bar. I am so totally okay with this. I was wearing an LSU t-shirt with a small LSU written over the breast pocket. Navy alum stares intensely at it. Gay best friend points out loudly to Navy alum that he is staring at my breasts. He shrugs. I laugh uncomfortably, because that is what I do when I'm sober. But not wanting to miss an opportunity, I engage with said Navy alum and ask him a) how drunk he is, as I'm sure Navy played an early game (Answer: very). And b) who did Navy play? When he tells me Delaware I say, "Oh, the fighting blue hens." I, of course, get that look. Ya know, the look guys give me when they're shocked that any girl anywhere knows who the eff the mascot of the University of Delaware is. The shit in my brain...

I grabbed a seat at the table in the middle of the back of the bar. There was an LSU mom type next to me. She was in town helping her daughter move in. Her daughter had just moved here from D.C. and took a gig with eBay. Literally just moved in, as in doesn't even have cable in her apartment yet. They were amazingly fun and as I used to be the youngest LSU alum at bars, it was nice, and humbling, to be surrounded by people who graduated in 2008. My dad stopped by. My brother stopped by at halftime and I talked to him a bit out front, before talking to the Navy alum again. I was definitely feeling the effects of the on-special Abita. I cracked up the bar staff by referring to Abita Strawberry as child molester beer. Seriously, everyone loves that stuff. I don't know why. It tastes no different than Boone's Strawberry Farm. When Kathryn, Chuck, and I first had it in Louisiana we joked that it was the stuff child molesters used to lure little girls into their vans. When I told bar staff that, they laughed. (Yes, this is a horribly inappropriate joke. But seriously, it's a JOKE. Relax.)

I saw that 49 people had RSVP'd to game watching at the bar on our local chapter facebook page but I figured that was an inflated number and assumed the crowd would be a lot smaller, as it had been at past games I'd attended. Uh. I assumed wrong. I showed up a good half hour before kickoff and was lucky to procure a seat. Beth and Michael, non-football fans who joined me, were shocked at how crowded it was. They thought there'd be like 5 people. I think they were both a little overwhelmed. I have a natural inclination to make sure my friends are okay and having fun and comfortable but I had to let it go. I was there to watch football. We knew that was what was on the agenda. I wanted to have my fun and anyone that wasn't having fun could leave. I went out for a bit of air at half time and Beth had a smoke and she left then. I don't think she was upset or anything, it just wasn't really her scene. Her and Michael both mentioned liking having a couch to watch a game from. Those are fair comments. But for me? These are my people and this is my environment and talking to another girl that actually agrees when I say, "We need to get our defense off the field so they can rest" and knew the names of more players than I did was fantastic. 

Actually: I was wearing the bracelet that my mom got me for my birthday. I call it a fancy friendship bracelet. It's made with thread wrapped around silver and has a slide enclosure thing. It's in LSU colors, naturally. It kept coming loose every time I would clap and I was constantly fidgeting with it. Michael finally said, "Why don't you just take it off?" This was about halfway through the second quarter. I sort of just looked at him. The LSU mom looks at him and says, "She can't." It was the first time in FOREVER that someone just got it. Michael looked at her quizzically and she explained, "If she takes it off and they lose..." YES! That! Exactly that! It makes sense to someone other than me! I'm suddenly not alone with my insane superstitions. 

In fact, they were MORE superstitious than I am. I kept seeing not unattractive Oregon players and making comments as such. The girl said, "Stop saying that! It'd be like dating the enemy!" I told her I was old, and thus not picky, and it's not like Oregon is in our conference, I feel a lot less guilty about it. In typical fun fan banter, she disagreed and said it would be sacrilegious. She also has been in the Bay Area for about five minutes and has no idea how tough the football fan dating scene is. I should give her some time, she'll change her mind.

So we won. We beat Oregon. We beat the #3, ranked a place ahead of us, team in the country. It is nice to be the winner. I won't get all hyperbolic about it. I was ignoring all the "LSU to the BCS!" comments in the press following it because it's week one of the season and a lot can, and will, happen. But I'd be lying if I said it didn't pass through my brain that I should start looking at ticket futures and ask for a trip to New Orleans for my Christmas present. I won't. It's jinxy. But it crossed my mind. Speaking of jinxy! I also have a ticket to cash from Las Vegas. It is excellent when we win.

When my brother stopped by he said all the bars dedicated to teams were packed. And I explained that, yeah, of course they are. Your team is perfect on the first day of the season. So you're hopeful. And it's a great time to connect with other alumni. Though I never really left a one block area, I can imagine that everyone was spilling out of bars, celebrating victories or drowning defeats (sorry, Notre Dame fans). It was a glorious start to the season and I can't even explain accurately how great it was to start with a matchup that mattered, under the giant screens of Jerradome, with a win. I can't talk about the game, I need to re-watch it with a sober, non-distracted by bar going eye. What I do know for sure is that when Les Miles came out of the tunnel and wasn't sure where to go, I just thought, "That's about perfect. That is so totally our coach." In the post game he would spell "geaux" wrong. Which would then be reported wrong, his exact incorrect spelling. Regardless, shirts have already been printed up with his new spelling of geaux. I love everything about LSU football.

Dinner after with Michael and my dad, more drinking with Cheryl back at North Star where my dad came to visit with me while working and I met the owner, the bartenders through another bartender friend of my dad's and finally, after four meetings, the one bartender who I had made friends with earlier by, ya know, drinking a lot finally said "Oh! I know your brother! He was here earlier." Yeah. To see me. Have I ever mentioned how small this city is? No? I didn't think so. But it was fine. And fun.

And I get so many more weekends of it. (I have October 8th circled. Fleet week, Navy game at noon, Caps game at 3, LSU game at 5. Gonna be epic.) Giggity!

Irrational Fandom

I shouldn't write hungover. It sucks. Writing buzzed, on the other hand, leads to epic amazingness. At least until you're hungover and then it just kinda sucks too. It all sucks. Ah. Well. Like that'll stop me.

Since my last football post was sorta meh, at best, you get...MORE FOOTBALL!

Because frankly, that's all that occupies my mind lately. Football football football. My mom texted me today about doing something tomorrow and I almost texted back, "WHY DO YOU NOT UNDERSTAND THE IMPORTANCE OF FOOTBALL DAY?! LEAVE ME ALONE!" And then I remembered it was only Thursday, making tomorrow only Friday, and we could do what she wanted. My brain just wants to skip straight to Saturday. I feel like those old JC Penney commercials. "Open open open!"

I'm currently watching Murray State v. Louisville and it. is. glorious. It's a pavlovian response that I suddenly crave whiskey and coke as soon as I see the players running across the football field and hear a marching band. It helps that SF weather kicked in to that feel that my college campus had in the fall. Fog is clearing up and warmth in the air. Which is also a double edged sword: weather finally gets nice just as I plan to spend the next 12 Saturdays parked in front of a TV, usually in a crowded and dark bar somewhere. Ah, well, choices need to be made. I choose football. I'm actually not dedicating my Thursday night to these games. I wasn't that excited about them, honestly. College football is on Saturdays, dammit! Or so says my thirteen years of fandom. But I started watching and I was enthralled. However, I have other plans for tonight so a little Louisville is all I'll see. I'll save the good stuff for Saturday.

My aunt understands. I linked to my favorite LSU pump-up video on the facebook. She called the house earlier and I answered, which is rare. She said, "Are you excited?" Me, "Yeeeesss!" She mentioned seeing my "silly link on that facebook thing, that I don't understand why it shows me some stuff and not others." Old people are cute! (I'm joking, she's not that old.)

I also had her arrange the entire 3 day weekend around football. Every year my family, on the long weekends in the summer, heads to the Flamingo Hotel in Santa Rosa. It's this spectacularly wonderful and cheesy 60s throw back hotel. But mostly it has a huge pool and all my little cousins can swim and frolic in the sun, something SF has a decided lack of during the summer months. On one day of the weekend, we head up there to hang out with them and then go to dinner at Negri's Restaurant. It's a place my grandparents used to go when they were dating. And we, as a family, have been going ever since. Four generations of us have trekked to Occidental to have a family style meal in a town with no cell service. I didn't go Memorial Day weekend and I don't think anyone went 4th of July weekend. But I really wanted to go for Labor Day so a few weeks ago I told my mom, "I know it's early but can you ask Jeanne to do dinner on Sunday night instead of Saturday so I don't have to miss football?" My mom says okay.

But here's the "I must be adopted" thing: My mom comes back to me a few weeks after that and says, "Do you just want to go up on Saturday anyway and you can watch football and we can spend the night?" Now, normally if my mom wants to do something, I acquiesce. I mean, sure, why not? But we've gone up there before on Labor Day weekend with assurances I could watch football and it never works out. Never. They SAY I can watch football but I can't really. They don't understand that it's a 16 hour all day affair where I park myself in front of the TV and don't move, the focus of all my attention. Everyone comes in and out of the hotel room and asks why I'm not outside. Or they tell me to keep it down as I scream at the TV because some toddler or old person is taking a nap. Yeah. No. LSU is actually playing a major matchup on opening weekend, not some cake game. You people are not distracting me or telling me to stop yelling or "Geez Lisa drink less beer!" So no, I won't go up on Saturday instead, sorry.

There is a reason people who love something sporting are called fanatics. It's not driven by sanity but by fanaticism. Come Saturday I will don an LSU shirt, purple and gold socks, earrings, make-up...you get the idea. Head to toe. I'm already having a minor crisis because I'm not sure I want to put purple shellack on my fingers but I'm worried if I don't, it'll affect the play of my team. WHAT DO I DO?! Cotton candy pink that looks good with my tan or purple? (The answer is purple. I have to go with purple. If I don't and we lost...)

When I was sitting in that room full of sports bloggers in Las Vegas, they brought up the LSU/Tennessee game. I told them I was terrified of Tennessee. On paper, UT is an inferior team. We should beat them. Some would even conjecture we should do so handily. When I said I was afraid of them, all these smart, educated on sports types looked at me like I was crazy. Since I'm a fanatic, yes, I'm a little crazy. This is how the LSU/UT game ended last year. I fully expect no one in Knoxville for the next 100 years is gonna forget that. I also then figure that because of that, UT will use it as fuel and try to beat the hell out of us. Is this rational? Nope. Should it be? Nope. I can't rationally discuss my team. Facts and logic play very little into it. Which, I think it's fair to say, is a departure from my norm. But. This is what it means to me to be an LSU fan.

I am not the delusional optimist kind of fan. You will not hear me talking too much smack before a game. I will likely never yell at an opposing fan, "We're gonna beat the hell out of you!" My taunts are far more generic. Usually just, "Tiger bait! Tiger bait!" (Which in the South really sounds more like "Tiiigahhhh beeeeeet!") Or I will make fun of your mascot. Right now my taunts involve how many different ways you can prepare duck (peking, flambe, confit, roasted...) It is a tradition to come up with some way to serve your opponent while tailgating. LSU plays the Arkansas Razorbacks the day after Thanksgiving. Whole roasted suckling pigs are a tailgating staple that weekend. (I miss Louisiana.)

Back to my fanaticism: we can be playing some cupcake team and I will thoroughly believe we are gonna get our asses kicked. This is the problem with becoming a fan when your team sucks (the DiNardo era) and then watching Les Miles be batshit crazy (though I truly don't believe that. I think he's smart and plays dumb. Or people underestimate him. Or...something). Nick Saban, the coach in the middle, is also notoriously tight lipped and pessimistic about a team. Most coaches are. The respect the opponent line. The never underestimate anyone. The "we play week to week and don't look ahead". I buy it. We lost to UAB when I was at LSU. We lost to the University of Houston. And, really, if you don't know by now, my nature is to fear the jinx and always always expect bad things to happen so it should be no surprise I feel that way about my team. I hope. I have faith. I will wear all the school colors that I can because I, in San Francisco, have some determinable effect on the outcome of the game. But expect a win? Not on your life.

I look forward to Saturday. I look forward to once again hearing the opening chords of pregame and having the hairs on my arms stand up. I look forward to my team taking the field in their white jerseys and gold pants. I will dream all season long of hanging out at tailgates on warm South Louisiana afternoons, waiting for the sun to find its home in the Western sky and my team to run through the tunnel. I'll know that before the team takes the field, the band will play "Hey Baby". I know the cheers for first, second, and third down (I hate Eye of the Tiger and wish we would go back to that other third down cheer). I know that the defensive cheer is the horribly named, but awesomely played, Chinese Bandits.

I'll think of Chuck laughing at Kathryn asking him if the shirt was "too purple" while standing in the LSU bookstore, of Jamie and I rolling our eyes at the idiot girl one of our guy friends brought into the student section who asked who Steve Spurrier was when we were cursing him, and of endless other fall Saturdays where we snuck whiskey into a dry stadium in plastic baggies shoved in our bras.

So really, it's not JUST a game. It's a way of life.

GEAUX TIGERS!

Look! Up there in the URL box thingy!

Minor changes that matter to, like, no one but me:

You can now reach me at www.thesunsetfog.com, instead of through the blogger site. (Yeah, I had to have the article "the". Yes, you currently need the www. (This was explained to me in words I don't understand but should go away eventually. I think?)) WHEE!

Thanks to Chad for doing the hard part on the domain website and listening to me explain via email "Uhhh, I dunno?" about my utter lack of tech savviness. I rely heavily on the kindness of strangers.

You can also email me at lisa@thesunsetfog.com. Okay, not yet but it'll be live soon(ish). Right?! I'm spppeeccialll! *twirls around in taffeta skirt* (Not really, but I could.)

So yeah. Taking the world wide web by storm!

Annual Ode to College Football

I sent out an email the other day to my friends alerting them to the fact that it my favorite major holiday: college football kickoff Saturday. LSU opens with a marquee game against the Oregon Ducks. (La la la la I can't hear anything else about legal woes, fingers in ears!) I'll be at North Star bar watching the game with Abita. I have been lobbying, quietly and to no one who cares, to make this the LSU bar for a few years and alas! it is! I win something I wasn't even trying to win! (I also went there last night, through a series of random events, and despite a guy wearing Affliction bumping into me often, had a bizarrely good time. Even if it is the bar where I met The Dude who... sigh. Memories.)

Most of my friends won't be watching with me due to an ex-friend's wedding, which is a bit of a bummer because I love amusing them as I scream nonsensically at the TV about "goddamn hit the motherfucking summabitch!" Sorry for the swear words but that's really how it sounds around here on Saturdays. More than once my non football understanding mom has shouted down the stairs to see if I am okay, thinking I am being attacked. I used to laugh at her and be all, "Yeah, I'm fine." Now I yell back, "NO I am NOT okay! The freaking quarterback couldn't find the broadside of a barn, let alone the wide receiver AND just threw into double coverage when he paniced! GEEZUS!" (I'm not an expert, as has been pointed out, but I get a bit of it. Which considering I wasn't raised on football is pretty good, in my humble opinion.)

Anyway, not getting to share this with most of my friends, as they celebrate nuptials, is a bit of a bummer. However, I am so glad to not be friends with this person anymore, for a lot of reasons, but right now: only in the non-South does some asshat have a wedding during football season. WHO DOES THAT? No one in their right mind that I know, that's for damn sure. There are about four acceptable weekends a year to get married if you hail from the South. I call dibs on the weekend after conference championships/before bowl games in December. Then you have most of the summer if you aren't die hard baseball and really that's a 162 games so you can spare a weekend. From September to January, if you even THINK about having a wedding on a day when major games are going on, you know that half your wedding party is gonna be parked at the one TV in the bar pouring over scores. (Digression: I have been mentally planning weddings lately. And having dreams about them. I blame this entirely on some stupid wedding magazine that is taking up residence in our bathroom that I mindlessly flip through when in there. I mean, seriously. This is me. I'm not even dating anyone/hate everyone right now so WTF, brain?)

Despite some friends not being there, others are going to be watching with me and that makes my wee little heart happy. Because these are people that mostly could give the slightest thought to sports generally. When someone who has the mildest passing interest in sports IMs you, "I am oddly excited to go watch sports with you again!" out of the blue, you feel like you've actually accomplished something. It is a small accomplishment, but in this non-college football obsessed city, it's a victory.

The fact that San Francisco is not at all a college football town was covered beautifully right here. That condescending tone? Drives me nuts. Look, I'm fairly accomplished. I went to college. I know a thing or two about a thing or two. Being a football fan does not negate my intelligence, ironically tattooed hipster who loves Burning Man. 

In fact, I have lately realized that nothing will coalesce your beliefs like having them attacked. This person whose wedding is next weekend once told me, "I think being a fan of sports is stupid. Like really stupid. To be fair, I think being a fan of ANYTHING is stupid but football is particularly dumb." Oh, well now, that's a pretty unforgettable indictment on my core beliefs. Mainly: nothing makes me giddier than college football and things that make me happy make me a better person and being a better person is good. (Yeah, really glad to not have this person in my life anymore.) For all the various things in my life I would change, ending up accidentally at LSU, loving it, and falling in love with football is decidedly not one of them. My personality generally hovers somewhere around apathetic. I don't do extreme poles of emotion. An ex used to get mad at me constantly for not being more excited about everything ever. College football is not one of those things. It brings me this bizarre happy sense of joy that very very little else does. And I'll be goddamned if someone tells me that's ridiculous ever again.

So with that I say: bring it on! Bring on four months of insanity and grass eating and losing but still winning and clock management jokes and my obsession with the color purple and the fear of the jinx and the heartbreak and Lou Holtz mumbling through broadcasts and being up insanely early to watch College Gameday because I live on the West Coast and texts from the stepsister, college roommate, and other various assorted friends about the games. Bring on a loathing of: Rocky Top, creamsicle orange, Bama, Nick Saban, all things Auburn, and playful smack talking in crowded bars.

Can. Not. Wait. For. Next. Saturday...

GEAUX TIGERS! BEAT THE DUCKS!

(P.S. The dude in San Diego who told me I was angry and The Dude...Sigh are both going to Dallas for the LSU/Oregon game even though neither of them are alums of either school. The cruel injustice of it! Temptation to text something witty: high. Temptation to drive to Dallas because wtf not? and try and procure a ticket: also high but I am a mostly rational person with no actual funds so I won't be doing this.)

Love Stories

Y'alllll. I went and saw Crazy, Stupid, Love.

It's not, despite what the trailers would have you believe, a romantic comedy. It's just straight romance. Don't get me wrong, I laughed. I laughed a lot. Probably more than the other six people in the theater with my mother and I. (There is something amazing about going to the movie theater in Daly City in the middle of the day... We also now always cheat and get the kids pack of popcorn and a small soda. It's like getting a happy meal. You feel like you're ripping them off but really it's still not a fair trade, I'm sure. Next time I want to bring a burrito with me. I used to love eating burritos in movie theaters when I was in high school. Anyway, I digress.)

Um. I had my heart broken about twenty different times during the movie. I didn't see the twist coming, which I won't divulge, even though I was at one point thinking, "But wait..." about the characters and then twist was revealed and I was all, "AHHH!" And just...

Sorry, deep breath, I'll try and type in actual sentences now.

I'm not going to tell you the plot but the basics are that Steve Carell gets dumped by his wife, Julianne Moore. He meets Ryan Gosling who teaches him how to be a player only Ryan Gosling then falls in love. Role reversal! Life lessons!

I was just pondering the other day how I had finally come to terms with being brunette. This is the first time in a very long time I've just been brunette. No honey or cinnamon or caramel highlights (those are actual descriptions I have used to tell the hairdresser what I want done to my hair). And then I see Emma Stone and I want her hair. Covet. Deep auburn, the color I used to constantly aspire to. Which is hysterical because she's a natural blonde. Actually, who am I kidding? I want to be Emma Stone. I have skin that tans so I'll keep that, but the raspy voice and the big blue eyes and the amazing laugh and the skinny and she always plays these totally no nonsense characters who say what they think and cause trouble.

There's this scene. The her and Ryan Gosling's abs scene. And I was laughing and grinning and relating because the way she was talking and what was going on...geezus, the amount of times I have done that. The amount of times I continue to do that. And those teeny tiny things that are so the way I act and remind me of guys I have met, the ones that amuse me and actually matter, not the ones I just tolerate. Plus, her character was a girl studying for the bar so, nah, I have no idea what that's like.

I know some of you hate romantic comedies, even as I consider it one of the great paradoxes of my personality that I love them. And I totally get that. They are usually awful and predictable and portray women as weak or crazy. But this movie wasn't treacly or schmaltzy. And like I said: not a romcom. More interpersonal relationship study with a heavy dose of wit. It was just well done and painfully on point and really all I got is one of my long drawn out le siggghhhs.

It is something of our impatient nature nowadays that I want the instant gratification of being able to buy something I love on iTunes immediately. I feel that way about Crazy, Stupid, Love. And that's about the best endorsement I can give it.

Why Being A College Athlete Kinda Sucks

I used to think being a pro athlete was the coolest job in the world. You get to PLAY a GAME! What's more awesome than that? Getting to do it for a lot of money, that's what. Even I, female, aspired to that as a kid. Before it became readily apparent that I have absolutely no discernible athletic skills.

Being a pro athlete still seemed so awesome though. The weekly glory on the gridiron or the diamond or the court. The travel, which, while grinding, is still impressive. ("Brass spittoons in the lobbies, brass beds in the rooms.") The seemingly impossible feats of athletic strength. Access to places and people the rest of us can only dream of. Unending adoration by legions of fans. The cars and money and women.

In college I saw a small slice of this. Guys were suddenly driving the newest, fanciest cars the day the college season ended. Even while in school, and being a mediocre football team at the start of my college career, they were treated like gods. Women threw themselves at them and they rarely said no. (A kicker of ours once called a girl for notes for a class he missed. She came over in the afternoon and suddenly he appears in the living room, where my roommate is studying with his roommate, asking for a condom. He later said, "Seriously, I just wanted the notes." The KICKER.) They had access to whatever bar they wanted to go to and never paid for drinks because having the athletes there meant having other people follow; it was good for business. And that was just the tiny visible stuff. They were golden football gods.

As I've grown up and become more and more interested in, and aware of, the business side of sports, I've come to the conclusion that being a pro athlete might not be the best deal out there. There are easier, less punishing ways, to make the same amount of money. I thought I'd explore a little bit why. Since the clearest path is football, we'll use that as our case study.

In what is part one of two, I first explore the college aspect of the path to being a pro athlete.

2 Very Different Vacations

Sorry for the absence. I've been off living my life. I know, right? I just had two consecutive weekends that were both fun for very different reasons. But both served, again, in very different ways, as ass kicks that I need to be out LIVING my life and not endlessly reading my Twitter feed. (That shit is SO hard to kick as addictions go, you have no idea. Which is annoying because maybe 5% of it is even memorable. But there I sit, reading everything 140 characters at a time. ANYWAY.)