We Need More Cowbell!

Oh, the joys of football rivalry. I think there could be a college course taught about the intricacy of football rivalries. We are fortunate to live in Utah, the home of the most intense football rivalry in the world. Ok, maybe not the whole world, but at least in the entire area West of the Mississippi. I am part of it, I am a Runnin’ Ute. I am not fond of BYU, when it comes to football that is.

Now, I have always felt that I have been a considerate Utah fan. I don’t drink and become belligerent. I don’t yell obscenities at women and children sporting “Y” shirts. I don’t paint a U of U on my belly and flash it throughout the game. I just cheer for the Utes and boo when it is appropriate. However, there was a moment of weakness that I succumbed to during the heat of a game.

About a fourteen years ago, Marlowe and I were struggling college students. We scrimped and scraped for tickets to the big game. We found ourselves right smack in the middle of a blue sea of BYU fans. We took our spots and enjoyed a tightly matched game. The only problem was the young fan behind me who brought his cowbell. I felt that this teenager came straight from doing his chores on the farm to the game.

He was well mannered, and so was his dad. But, he would not stop ringing that cowbell. The piercing sound of the ding-a-ling rang in my eardrum for four straight quarters. He seemed to have a nervous tick in his wrist by the constant movement of the bell. Is there such a thing as Tourette's syndrome for cowbell? Whenever there was reason for ringing, he did, loud, clear, and fast. Whenever the action slowed, so did the ringing. When either band played, he rang the cowbell to the beat. The cowbell expressed every emotion the boy felt. He was definately a farm boy. All of the cow milking strengthened his wrist and gave him increadible endurance for ringing cowbells. I was just about to go insane. Then it happened.

There was a minute left and the U of U was down. We made an amazing drive. I didn’t think we had a chance. The stadium was tense, the drama was thick and I was just about to crack. Then one series of events merged into another and we scored. YES! We did it! I must have been shocked into obnoxiousness because I turned around, faced the young teen and stripped the cowbell out of his hands. He stared at me with his gob opened, not sure about what just happened. Then, with my eyes blazing with extreme insanity I rang that bell in his face. I rang it loud. I rang it hard. I rang it and yelled, “How do you like that?” Then I rang it some more and danced around as if being possessed by the devil himself.

Being a naive farm boy, he just stared at me with horror and fright. I handed his cowbell back and gave him a crazed smile that said, “How do you like them apples you idiot?” Then I took my seat, still dancing my evil jig. But it wasn’t over.

I think if you were to review all of the film footage of U of U/BYU games, there would be a high percentage of games won in the last seconds by BYU. It’s as if the Y has control over the time continuum. The stars line up and all that stuff. Somehow, they reach deep down and make it happen. By using one of their "BYU miracles", they made a miracle play and won in the last seconds.

I just stared forward. I didn’t look left or right. I didn’t stand and run or turn around and apologize to the farm boy. I just fumed and stewed and ate crow. Oh, I was so embarrassed. I got myself into this mess. The bell started up again as loud as ever and I just let it go. Ring bell, ring. I earned it.

Tonight is the eve of the biggest rivalry game between the two teams. Title shares and BCS Bowls are on the line for both teams. Now, we have season tickets. We share an excellent area with the best Utah fans imaginable. Portal 34, you rock and I promise I will tolerate your cowbell.