It’s just a slice of Americana. Tailgating, that
traditional social practice taking place outside a sports event in
the hours leading up to the game.
Before a pivotal game, this will undeniably answer the question
of which team’s fans will own bragging rights ““ people
turn out in the tens of thousands to celebrate the day.
Never mind just watching the game to see who wins. Tailgating
offers more, as it extends the atmosphere beyond the field.
Instead of just the players and coaches involved in the
unfolding series of events on the field, the fans are now a part of
the action. Or at least, they delude themselves into thinking
that.
I was reminded exactly how different tailgating at a college
football game can be after witnessing the social gathering outside
the Rose Bowl just hours before the start of the UCLA-Cal game on
Saturday.
Heading over to the game, it was the responsibility of this
journalist to examine what drives the sport of tailgating, and
perhaps even unearth the secrets of what causes the fanatics to
come out in full force.
I figured I might even be able to find out what makes for the
best pregame barbecue.
I was walking up and down Brookside Golf Course, which had been
reassigned as the tailgating area for UCLA and Cal fans, and the
aromas in the air were striking. For anyone who grew up in the U.S.
and attended a sporting event or two, it can take you right back to
childhood.
The aroma seemed to be a concoction of barbecued chicken, potato
salad, babies and beer.
There were hoards of college students, of course, running around
and yelling and cheering. “Go Bruins, whoo! Screw
Cal!”
Several of them were undoubtedly under the influence of mass
alcohol consumption, as the stale smell of beer seeped through
their clothes and off their breath.
It was the students who most readily reminded any casual
observer that this was a football game, as debates were taking
place between Cal fans from Berkeley and UCLA. Sports
conversationalists were discussing how in the world UCLA would be
able to stop Cal’s rushing game, while a pair of Bruin fans
doubted that the Bears could contain Maurice Drew (we know how that
one turned out).
As I walked farther down the golf course it became evident that
there were really four different age groups of tailgaters at the
game. Aside from the college students, there were the sports fans
in their late 20s or early 30s. They went to UCLA or Cal and have
remained loyal to their alma mater during their so-far brief stint
as a working stiff in the real world.
Most of them were guys, talking about their glory days of
fraternity life, playing drinking games, and roasting up lunch.
Just like the good old days, only a decade and 20 pounds ago.
“Dude, I’m telling you. We don’t have a chance
against Cal. It’s gonna be a drubbing,” they
echoed.
The third group of tailgaters kept the age progression going, as
they were middle-aged football fans, strapped with wives and kids,
and attending the game in the family minivan. The little kids were
running around smiling and laughing.
This was far and away the most peaceful aspect of tailgating, as
the men were resigned to nursing a beer while chatting with their
kiddies. They had seen their glory days pass and were too old and
heavy in the midsection to flatter themselves with the idea of
recapturing the magic.
Finally came the elder statesmen, the senior citizens who
gingerly waddled from the Brookside golf course to the Rose Bowl
entrance with their youngest grandchild in tow. It had to have been
one of the first sports experiences for the youngsters.
The budding journalist stood, lost in the overlapping crowds, on
a warm afternoon. I was able to attend a tailgate that seemed to
encapsulate everything that symbolizes the sentimental value of
sports.
Sure, tailgaters aren’t the most educated of sports fans.
If you’re looking for intelligent spectators, they’ll
usually be found sitting at home, watching a triple-header of
college football games on cable.
But there’s something else at a tailgate. It’s not
highbrow, and certainly not enlightening as the beer flows through
the bodies into blades of grass behind a tree. If nothing else,
it’s that slice of Americana.
E-mail de Jong at adejong@media.ucla.edu if you also enjoy
the American staple of tailgating.