Florida v Kentucky Football: A Cali Girl Goes to Her First SEC Regular Season Game

Gainesville, FL—As Sandra Bullock’s character Leigh Anne Tuohy said in The Blind Side, “well, alrighty then.”

This is different. In a good way.

Like when you eat a nice steak with truffle butter melting on it. Sure, grilled filet mignon is wonderful as is. But with truffle butter? Hoo boy!

It is just so extra. Kinda like SEC football.

It is just different.

OK, I get it now, SEC fans. You guys win. On Saturday night, I lost my Southern football virginity at the Florida v Kentucky game. Because y’all know how to football better than all y’all.

Period.

More. Please.

Ninety minutes before kickoff, the stadium is 25 percent full. And its occupants are turnt. I bring this up only because I am used to sober, empty West Coast stadiums (which shall remain anonymous) five minutes before kickoff.

I want to do the chomp chomp when I take my seat. But first, I let all the Southern gentlemen open the doors for me in the Media Lounge.

Somebody pinch me. This flirting is getting out of hand and the game has not even started.

So… The Swamp.

It has such a cool reputation.

Tonight it’s a brisk 69 degrees and the wind is blowing at five miles-per-hour, according to the press box information officer. Yeah… no. More like 20 miles-per-hour.

The Swamp is now The Igloo.

Let’s see if I can encapsulate today’s epic football experience.

Nope, not possible. This has to be experienced first-hand. With a beer in the other hand.

The team’s entrance onto the football field is intimidating as hell. The lights turn out, there’s a red glow in the stadium and the theme to “Jaws” is scaring the mittens off of my cold, trembling fingers. The crowd is screaming and looking like Pac-man doing their chomp chomp hand gestures.

The Kentucky Wildcats come out and the boos rain down so loudly I am shook. But the Gators steal their thunder—OK, not really, but I am trying to be nice here—by running onto the field at the same time.

The nerve! [grins broadly]

The players run by some flaming torches. Or, maybe… the team coming out with its hair on fire lit up the torches?

Mass pandemonium ensues in The Igloo. I have no idea what song the band is playing because the decibel level is akin to a Space X launch.

I grin. I pop some aspirin into my mouth to kill the noise-inducing headache.

“How much fun is this,” I ask myself?

I check the USC v Maryland score. Good feeling gone. But I digress.

Florida is 3-3 going into this game. You would think the fans are a bit depressed. (Have you seen the Gators’ next five games scheduled? Somebody needs to check on Al E. Gator by mid-November)

Nope, they are totally into this football game. And they cheer like the Natty is on the line here. Or at least a conference championship.

But no, it is Kentucky. And it does not make a difference.

This felt like a national championship game. Every play was super important and game-deciding. Seriously. Every pre-snap felt like 88,000 pearl necklaces were being clutched and then… snapped.

So during the (numerous) SEC Network commercial breaks did The Igloo quiet down?

No, it did not.

The 1984 Florida football team came out on the field and the place went wild. That Gator team experienced the wrath of the NCAA 40 years ago and the fans have not forgotten. Despite winning the SEC with a perfect conference record, the championship was vacated after a vote by the SEC coaches.

But back to some observations during this game.

The crowd actually screams during opposing PAT attempts. OK, I guess I can understand that it if were a walk-off PAT.

But no.

Just your standard, run-of-the-mill PAT that somehow is a pivotal moment in the game. Like every PAT in the SEC, I was informed by a fan.

Well, alrighty then.

Clearly SEC fan knows the secret sauce to enjoying a game. First, drink alcohol.

Actually, if you only do this you are still on point.

Learn all the team chants and responses. If you cannot remember them, just pretend you’re in church. Southern football is a religion here.

Yell. A lot.

For any reason. At any given moment. Nobody cares.

I finally comprehend fully the concept of home field advantage in the SEC. It has to be worth at least three points. My ears are hurting by the half. Maybe it is worth five points.

Meanwhile….

“Go Gators!” (musical interlude) “Go Gators!” (musical interlude) “Go Gators, come on, Gators… get up and go!”

I cannot get that chant out of my head. I actually started mouthing the chant’s lyrics in the second half. (Shhhh! No cheering in the press box allowed) Whoops.

What has become of me?

A West Coast football girl gets her head turned by Florida football?

Why… yes.

Yes. She. Does.

Florida football is sexy. Florida football is exciting. Florida fans are the best fans. And, ahem, sorry West Coast fans… SEC girls just mean more.

Daisy Duke shorts, tank tops and cowboy boots are tough to beat. Am I right, guys?

For decades I preached how overrated the SEC experience was. I laughed at the SEC’s “It just means more” motto. I excused poor stadium attendance in California due to poor scheduling or “too much to do in SoCal.”

I was wrong. Mea culpa. Forgive me, Gator Nation.

Honestly, if Florida scheduled a midnight game in The Igloo, it would sell out. Meanwhile, the Pac-12 cannot even sell out a 2023 conference championship game in Vegas, baby. (Note—it was technically played in Paradise, Nevada, not Las Vegas and it was several thousand butts-in-seats short of a true sell out. But you get the drift, right?)

Every tradition the Gator program has makes you want to don blue and orange. My favorite? Beside the “Go Gators” chant?

Singing Tom Petty’s “Won’t Back Down” while shining a cell phone’s flashlight in the darkened Igloo. So, so cool.

I respect all of the fans who stand up, remove their hats and recite the Pledge of Allegiance. America needs more of this.

As the fourth quarter was midway, I was struck by something.

I never once heard, “let’s leave now so we can beat the traffic.” In fact, traffic seems to get these fans lit. The more traffic, the more partying, the more tailgating and the more chomp chomping.

The SEC is just so much fun. Full of tradition. Good eats. Great football fans.

Florida may only be 4-3, but its future looks very bright. Freshman quarterback DJ Lagway is the real deal. He is a generational quarterback with tremendous skill set and athleticism.

He will be on my Heisman contender list next season.

Cali girl wants more SEC football.

Cali girl is falling in love with Gator Nation.

It just means more.

College Football, Alligators and Weather: Perspective from a West Coast Transplant After Six Months in Florida

It was going to happen. Eventually.

Doesn’t everyone end up in Florida to retire? To ease the pedal from the metal? Chill out? Have F-U-N?

After living almost my entire life in Southern California, I moved to Northeast Florida in December. My new nest is in Ponte Vedra— a small beach town located a stone’s throw north of St. Augustine on Florida’s First Coast.

I now realize that this is college football country.

Actually, I have always known that. But moving here validated my suspicions. Okay, not suspicions. I knew this was college football country but hated to admit it.

Happy now?

College football is King in Florida.

And I’m here for it all. Finally.

An observation: more Floridian automobiles than not have either Central Florida, Florida, Florida State, South Florida or Miami license plate frames. Sprinkle in Ohio State, Georgia, South Carolina and (of course) Alabama license plate frames and you have about 60 percent of all cars in this state pledging their allegiances to an institute of higher learning. Or a football factory.

Semantics, I know. [shrugs]

This state loves discussing college football. And not just in the fall.

Floridians are already talking about who has the toughest schedules, the easiest schedules, which coaches are on the hot seat, who will suck this year, who will get screwed this year, should Clemson and Florida State leave the ACC and will Texas and Oklahoma have a rude awakening in the SEC?

Answers: USC and UCLA aka Death Star fodder, UNC and Missouri (want some milk with those cupcakes?), Billy Napier aka Florida Man, Alabama and UCLA (does this really need explaining?), Notre Dame (it is always the correct answer every year, isn’t it Irish fans?), yes… and hell yes.

Yes, I reassure my Floridian brethren, Florida State got screwed.

Nope, the Selection Committee should never choose playoff teams based on assumptions or hypotheticals. Yes, a team’s resume should be the sole basis for playoff consideration. No, subjective analysis should never outweigh objective analysis. No, I do not have a handkerchief on which you can cry.

Yes, I will make sure to tell everyone I know that Florida State got screwed.

Also, no, USC is not University of South Carolina.

I am taking about football again. And I am smiling.

The Georgia v Florida game in Jacksonville is enticing. The game is less than an hour from my home, I can prep my liver in October and (a bonus!) the humidity will be significantly less in November.

Won’t it?

A word about weather here in Florida. Okay, maybe more than a word.

A monologue.

Yes, it is warm. We have not hit the hot months yet (!!!!) so I am… well, acclimating to the “warmth.” Or maybe I am in a permanent state of heat stroke.

What I am trying to say is that it is so hot here you can set your AC at 76 and when you walk into your home… it actually feels like an icebox. Yesterday I turned my AC off because 77 degrees was—wait for it— too cold.

When I park my car in a parking lot, I no longer look for the space closest to the front door. Did I mention I had major knee surgery last August? Oh well to the hell.

I look for a parking space under a tree. A big, shady tree. I prefer bird poo on my roof rather than scorching hot, black leather seats, a flaming steering wheel and fogged up sunglasses. Pro tip: leaving your car on, with the AC running, is acceptable at Publix.

I have learned even more things.

There is a recipe on how to cook lasagna in your mailbox. I will let you know how my broiled lasagna turns out in mid-August. Right now, baking cookies in your car is the trendy thing to do.

hat tip courtesy: Alan Wayne Debban via facebook

The Florida Man Games are real and they are spectacular.

It rains every day at exactly 3:00 in the afternoon. Florida’s cooling thunderstorms run on a schedule that rivals a Swiss clock. Or a German train. It’s almost comforting.

Almost.

I always have a towel in my car. I use it to A- sit on if I cannot find a big, shady tree, dammit, B-dry my car off after going to the car wash every day ($39.99 a month for unlimited car washes at Gate!) to get the love bugs off my grill (more on that later) or C-as a rain hat at 3 pm.

Drivers in Florida think the I-95 sign is the posted speed limit. Using your turn signal is a sign of weakness. Do not drive in the left lane unless you hate the way your car’s rear end looks/want a new car. All Floridian drivers are practicing to be poor NASCAR drivers.

Florida understands its bad drivers. That’s why on every highway at 1,000 feet intervals, there is a lane for U-turns so one can A- reverse your lousy sense of direction, B- make your GPS go HAM, or C- gas up/eat lunch/go Christmas shopping at Buc-ees.

Parking on the interstate’s grassy median to chat on your phone, taking pictures of a meandering gator, running from a meandering gator or having a fried chicken picnic is perfectly normal here.

You have to put vinegar in your AC unit once a month to keep mold out. You also have to keep the detergent tray and front loading door on your washing machine open so mold does not colonize.

My feet have a farmer’s tan from flip flops. Also, fancy flip flops under a sequined evening gown are acceptable attire in Florida.

Fresh grouper, smoked fish dip and pimento cheese spread are on the menu in every restaurant and they are awesome.

The more north you drive in Florida, the more Southern it gets.

When someone leaves your home, you do not say, “have a great day.” You say, “Quick! Close the door so you don’t let the bugs in.”

So far, I have had no problems with bugs in my house.

So far.

Bugs on my car are a different thing.

photo courtesy of Herald-Tribune

Bugs have their own seasons in Florida. Because bugs own Florida. They are not too prevalent where I am but they are downright a nuisance in South Florida.

Florida has four distinct seasons: Nice, Love Bugs, Hurricanes and No-see-ums.

Nice: November to March (this season can also be referred to as Snow Bird season)

Love Bugs: April to May (with an encore in September)

No-see-ums: June to early-August

Hurricanes: late-August to October

Love Bugs stick to the front of a car’s grill and bumper. They must be removed within a day or two or the acid from their tiny corpses will melt the paint off a car. Update: the front of my black Benz looks like a Dalmatian.

No-see-ums are a bug that nobody can see. I have swatted at the air for no apparent reason and nobody questions why. They get it. No-see-ums are annoying, sure. But you usually do not feel their presence until after they have dined on your sweaty bicep.

Welcome to Florida.

Land of strange animals. Like Florida man and alligators.

Actually, I am more scared of Florida man than alligators. Truth be told, I have become fond of swamp puppies. They are cute. They are survivors.

Gators do not bother us unless we go into their domain (water) while they are hungry. Gators are, in general, scared of people. Especially on land. I have witnessed their cowardice with my own eyes.

Last spring a gator was roaming on my street, looking for love in all the wrong places. It was mating season, after all. He strolled up to a lady’s house and when she opened her door, well, can you say, “land shark”?

She called a trapper and chaos ensued.

The poor thing (the gator, not the lady) was running around our street, scared to death, his wanna-be big tail whipping back and forth as he scrambled toward a retention pond, heading for safety. Or maybe it was a flirty, love-sick female gator.

I was really rooting for him.

The trapper caught him and “relocated” him. All five feet, one inches of him. Pink mouth and all. He was absolutely adorable.

Do I like Florida?

No.

I love Florida.

After enduring so much heartbreak in the last three years, I have finally found joy again. I wake up every day smiling. Sure, I still cry every day. I miss my husband. David’s death altered my life’s projection.

Before he died, he gave me a new laptop and a fancy broadcasting microphone.

He was trying to tell me something. He was nudging me toward what he knew always gave me joy.

Florida has given me my life back. I have forged some incredible friendships. I have built a new home. I am exploring new places and still thirsting for knowledge.

Florida has awakened my love for college football again.

I am alligator. Hear me bellow. Watch me survive.

I am back, baby.