The War Chant begins, the band is there and your arm is chopping for so long that it becomes a workout. The Seminole flag rises and players come storming out of the tunnel. The crowd is cheering and the fight song begins, just another excuse for you to lose your voice. Finally, the referee starts the game.
Courtesy: Glenn Beil from USA Today
But where did we begin? Rewind four hours and you’re still in bed, listening to your alarm play on repeat because you’re too tired to turn it off. It’s basketball season now, which means no need to cover yourself in sunscreen or worry about coming home dripping in sweat. The indoors have never felt more comforting, even though you don’t want to get out of bed and walk a mile and a half to the Civic Center.
Something prompts you to finally get up. After scrolling through Instagram and answering Snapchats, you’re in the bathroom, thinking about how you’ll be able to look cute while staying comfortable. You don’t want to shower since that’ll be a must afterward. In the back of your head is that constant worry that the Seminoles are going to lose, but your heart tells you it won’t happen.
The Sunday before, you spent thirty minutes staring at the waiting room’s screen while feeling the nerves associated with actually getting a ticket before they sell out– which leads you to want to show up early. Once your makeup is on and you have enough money in your wallet to buy a drink at the game, you go back to your happy place: sitting on the bed while you do a ton of research about the game, even though nothing you personally do can change the outcome. You think about wanting to be able to pick your seat, without being confined to the back row of the upper bowl and with that in mind, you rush out the door to pack onto the back of the long line outside the Civic Center. It’s not cold out, but it isn’t warm either. Your game day outfit is cute, and you didn’t wear a jacket so somehow, you’re still shivering. Sixty degrees never felt so freezing …
The best moment of your day so far comes when the doors finally open. The heated concourse—well, compared to outside—feels great. You get your seat and have your friend save it for you as you run back to get a drink before the lines get long. There’s an hour before tip-off and passing time has suddenly become impossible.
Back to Instagram you go, scrolling as far as you can before the Wi-Fi cuts out completely. Suddenly there are 12,000 people around you, waiting for the game to start. Watching your favorite players warm up is almost as exciting as seeing them tower over you on Landis, but they seem so much smaller on the court. Once you finally recognize who’s who, they funnel back into the tunnel and head towards the locker room. You’re left waiting again, staring at an empty court until your eyes wander into the crowd, scanning for friends’ faces. The clock gets closer and closer to zero as the atmosphere builds. Get ready to lose your voice and cheer on your ‘Noles! Finally, a familiar drumbeat begins to echo … and your arm begs you not to chop.
Jamie Rhodes (USA Today)