Christmas, Thanksgiving, Birthday, and the first Saturday of College Football. Those are the four days I look forward to the most year in and year out. You know when those days land every year. The holidays and birthdays are obvious days that most people get excited about, but don’t sleep on that first Saturday of Labor Day weekend. There’s something about kicking off the College Football season with a mixed slate of cupcake matchups and absolute bangers.
Every season begins with a sense of hope, especially if you’re a fan of a team that always has high expectations. But even if you know your team has either lower expectations or is used to performing a certain way, there’s still a sense of pride you get in rooting for them. You get to join others across the country, that feel the way you do, and become unified, no matter your background. You get to turn on that first game of the season thinking, “This year is going to be different. What if we surprise people and make a run?” Year after year, you start out with a little bit of hope, even if deep down you have a good feeling of what the end result will be. That’s the beauty of Labor Day weekend and the opening of College Football.
You’ve spent all off-season either talking trash with your boys or staying quiet with the fear of not wanting to overplay your hand and look dumb in the long run. Yes, it’s a long season and one game likely won’t define it all, but that first game feels like everything is on the line. Your pride, ego, confidence and joy seemingly hang in the balance, revolving around the result of that first game. You have this idea in your head of how things should play out, but no one knows how it’s going to go, it’s not scripted. All you can do is tune in and watch for yourself.
Picture this: your team is playing a night game, you’ve spent all day drinking with your buddies and watching their teams play. You’ve watched them go through all the emotions of how their teams’ seasons have started. Some of them are on cloud nine and think their team may never lose, while some are replaying the game over and over wondering what went wrong and if things will get better next week. Now, it’s your turn. You’re on the couch, beer in hand, and your heart is racing. The ball is placed, your team is lined up, ready to kick off. The kicker takes that first step towards the ball, almost in slow motion. You take a deep breath, lean forward, and as soon as the ball is kicked, that voice you’ve heard in the back of your head all summer says, “What if it’s our year?”
Sometimes, that’s all the hope you need.