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.
The happenings of this game don’t exactly flood to my memory probably because I sat apathetically in the stands staring at the clock. I knew halftime was nearing and my mother harbored similar interests in this game as I did. We both were ready to bolt for the dry, cozy van at the break. The parking lot became our view during the second half as we listened to the Badgers come away with their only victory of the season.
I knew nothing of the significance of this contest. I hardly cared about the outcome or the trophy (Paul Bunyan’s Axe) awarded for this bitter border rivalry. At the tender age of nine, I would never have guessed that this would be the beginning of a passion and a mission that involved college football. Little did I know that the Badgers were soon about to turn the corner and provide memories for our family and friends that would last a lifetime. It wouldn’t be long before leaving at halftime of a Badger game would be sinful no matter how fierce the elements. The spark to this ignition came four years later in the same stadium on a day where Wisconsin football turned the corner…
