Just because I had witnessed a great game two weeks ago did not mean that college football was a significant part of my life yet. It took time. I remember this gloomy day in Madison as one where I learned a very important rule in college football – no overtime. With the game tied at 16 and Wisconsin’s field goal kicker setting up for the winning kick, I asked my father, “What happens if he misses?” When he replied that the game simply results in a tie, I was filled with frustration from three sources –
Today would be a memorable day in the career of Wisconsin head coach, Barry Alvarez. I didn’t care. I don’t even think I knew why this Berry Alcatraz was so special. Once again, I was being handcuffed to the car and dragged to another football game. Not interested. I remember the last game I attended. Dreary. Boring. Low attendance. But, there was something different about today. Camp Randall Stadium was PACKED with a vibrant red that stretched to every curve and corner.
I didn’t even realize that this was my first college football game until I was digging through old photos and came across a dated image of my mother, brother, and me soaking up the action and the rain in Camp Randall Stadium in Madison. These were the pre-Barry Alvarez days in “The Camp” where the few points on the board matched the few people in attendance.