FLORENCE — A final swipe of Wild Berry lipstick and I’m ready. I’ve been looking forward to this all week. The anticipation is killing me, and I hope things turn out like I want them to. Just 10 minutes more and … it’s football, baby!
Watching college football is an event at my house, even if I’m watching alone.
While the stereotype is that women get made up for a Saturday of shopping, many of us get done up for a Saturday of football. After showering, shampooing, and shaving, and doing my hair and makeup, I slip into my jeans and gameday T-shirt.
Bring on the Gamecocks or Tigers – I’m ready.
When my daughter, Riley, was little, our Saturdays were planned around her soccer or softball games and then football. Now she’s a college junior and a member of The Roar, UNA’s dance team, so our Saturdays are planned around Lions home games.
A typical Saturday goes like this: Get up, hit the gym, head home for lunch and to catch some early TV games, jump in the shower, then get my game face on for tailgating, Riley’s pregame performance, and the 6 p.m. kickoff at Braly Stadium.
And when UNA is on the road? I switch into Crimson Tide mode: TV on, Golden Flake Barbecue chips and a Coca-Cola at the ready, and my phone fully charged so I can complain with my Bama fan friends on Twitter or swap a quick text with family.
A phone call though? Only if you’re going to keep it short – very short, like less-time-than-it-takes-for- the-teams-to-get-reset-at-the-line-in-the-no-huddle-offense short. Otherwise, you’ll just think I’m rude because my attention will be on the game and not on our conversation.
Also, because The Roar doesn’t travel with UNA football, Riley will come home and join me in second-guessing the refs and the offensive coordinator, and eating barbecue chips. I’m grateful that she still enjoys spending time with me, yelling at the TV on game days.
On those occasions when she needs some extended-family time, we head to Town Creek and catch the games with my parents.
Riley and Mom watch the kickoff then head out for a little retail therapy (maybe there is a little truth in that old stereotype). Dad and I help the team keep it close until Riley and Mom return – usually during the fourth quarter with warm Krispy Kreme donuts.
Occasionally, though, it’s just me and my TV, and that’s fine, too.
No one sees me when I get a little too caught up in the game. I can dance around when “we” score, and when “we” jump offsides, I can yell, “What are you doing?” without disturbing anyone.
Then when the game is over, a quick touch-up of Wild Berry (the perfect compromise between purple and crimson) and I’m ready to hit the town or, maybe, just the bookstore.
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