A Showdown with the wrong rival

Womeldorph
Zane Womeldorph

Last April’s “riot” was remarkable for a few reasons: beer bottles flying through the air, stupid drunk people dancing on a car and caving in its roof, tear gas and the raucous display of unruly behavior so shocking to the civilized suburbanites of our otherwise sleepy town.

What was unremarkable, however, was the single, relentless chant of “F*** CU!” that literally echoed from the crowd for several hours. Other chants struck up in small sections and quickly died. My friend tried to get everyone to sing “Don’t Stop Believing” and failed hilariously. But every 20 minutes or so my ears were assaulted with this single, tedious phrase repeated with a vigor and enthusiasm rarely seen from a crowd of jaded hipsters and Greek life clones.

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It boggles my brain as to why anyone actually cares about this flat, wannabe rivalry. And it’s not just us. I began my collegiate career in that town of trust fund hippies and Brosef Stalins. I probably spent half my freshman year chanting, “I said it sucks, to be, a CSU Ram” at random house parties, right after chugging generic orange vodka and right before vomiting in the bathroom sink.

Those days were fun, back when I smoked joints while longboarding to class and listened to a lot of Three 6 Mafia. But that was before I knew anything, and also the last time I attempted this charade of school spirit.

Sure, I eat the buffalo burgers, but only because they are free and delicious, not because I feel any special hatred for Ralphie and his hooved brethren. Sorry CAM, but I eat lamb burgers too. I cheer for our team, and I certainly don’t have any special place in my heart for anything CU, but I still don’t get why anyone cares more about games between these two schools than between, say, actual conference opponents.

I grew up in a house dominated by Ohio State football. There are more red t-shirts in my drawers than all other colors combined. If you want to see what a real football rivalry looks like, look at OSU-Michigan.

The games between these schools matter. They always play on the last game of the regular season, and nine times out of ten the contest has conference or national title implications. At the very least, there are 100 thousand people in the stands of a field not named after a corporation.

In the week leading up to the game, every single ‘M’ on signs around the OSU campus are covered up and the night before everyone gets drunk and jumps in a frozen lake, which sounds like a lot more fun than just chomping dead buffalo and screaming obscenities.

The animosity I feel for Michigan tops my hatred Miley Cyrus, bro tanks and snap backs combined. And if you know me at all, that is saying something. I would rather pierce my nipples and let someone rip them out then see Michigan win a national championship.

Needless to say, my feelings for CU are slightly less intense. Our real rival should be and is Wyoming, an actual conference opponent where the outcome has significant league implications. Before the game we could round up some cowboys and throw water balloons at them or something. We could sneak up to Laramie and brand the cows they ride to school with Cam’s face. Just a thought.

Anyways, since I can only handle one bout of day-drinking per weekend, instead of making the trek to Denver I woke up at 9 a.m. on Saturday with a coffee in one hand and a beer in the other, put on my smallest pair of cutoff jorts and headed to Old Town on my hipster bike, where I met up with my best friend from high school who happens to be a recent CU graduate.

I ended up streaming the game on Sunday from a sketchy website. The grainy footage played on my laptop in my kitchen as I ate some guacamole of my own creation and drank beers I bought for less than $8 apiece. I was unhappy when CU easily scored on their first drive with an 85-yard pass to a ridiculously wide open receiver.  I cheered when we kicked a field goal. Then I got bored just before half time and switched to video games.

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I did not utter the phrase “F*** CU!” once.

Zane Womeldorph goes to school here. And no, he will not fill out your stupid survey. Find him on Twitter at @zwomeldo. Letters and Feedback can be sent to letters@collegian.com