The night before home games at the University of Colorado, the football team, dance line, and my dear Golden Buffalo Marching Band assemble on the pedestrian mall downtown, and host a pep rally referred to as the Buffalo Stampede. This tradition started after I graduated, so I didn't get to do this myself. I wish we had done it. The party atmosphere along the four blocks of the mall it covers is magical. I tend to shy away from festivals generally, but on stampede nights, I don't mind the crowds one bit. I dance and sing the fight songs unselfconsciously, and take pictures like the most stereotypical of tourists. There might have been a time, when I was 18 or 19 and overly concerned with being cool, that I found the behavior of the alumni and band boosters to be embarrassing. Now I totally get it. I am totally embracing my crazy fan future. Yesterday, when we were buying out that Dillard's, I bought a top that was essentially a black sequined poncho with gold braid trim. It's the kind of thing a fifty-something alumna wears to the banquets during bowl games. I am going to hold on to this thing until that is my reality (which means I have to wait until I am in my fifties, and the team actually makes it to a bowl game again, but the poncho was worth the eleven dollars I paid for it, to hang onto it in anticipation.)
Tonight I saw the entire range of fans, from the most adorable of toddlers to the oldest die hard faithful. There were lots of children on parents' shoulders, a couple waving toy instruments. One little boy had a plastic saxophone, and he held it to his face like he was really playing it, and he swung it around, up and down, just like the band members do during Glory or the Tuba Cheer. In doing it, he was cuter than any other kid on the mall. My older daughter has talked about a pair of our oldest fans, twin sisters in their 90s who attend every single event in matching outfits. I have been trying to remember whether I was aware of them years ago when I was in the band. I can imagine I was, but I may be making it up. We saw them on the mall tonight. When I got back to the house this evening, I told my host I saw them, and I declared that they are the epitome of the fan I choose to become. She promised she will be right there with me. We may not be twins, but we resemble each other enough that by that age, no one will know we are from different mothers. I cannot wait.
The band starts the rally in front of the courthouse, and then the team booster who drives an antique fire engine painted black and gold leads the parade down the mall a block at a time. The team passed out black and gold mardi gras beads and high-fived those of us standing close by. The dance line came next, and then the band brought up the rear. My older daughter is only one year removed from her marching days, and no less than ten current band members broke ranks to hug her as they marched past. I felt the spillover love by just standing next to her. It was special to watch.
Tomorrow I get to watch the game with my own kids, and two of my friends with small children (two six year olds and an eight year old). I intend to be that goofy fan that treats homecoming like it's Christmas and Fourth of July and Halloween all in one, so they're not bored. They might be embarrassed, but that will just mean I'm doing my job right as the silly old lady fan.
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