(Columbus) A graying father. His son in his twenties. They stand behind the long procession of people streaming toward Ohio Stadium, the mother following close behind. In Columbus, on this sunny day, Ohio State is preparing to host Penn State for one of the biggest American college football games of the year.
The mother prepares her camera. The father and son are preparing… to drill a hole in their beer can to prop it up as quickly as possible. While the mother films the scene, the crowd, which continues to advance, begins to encourage the two men. The father… finishes his beer first, throws it on the ground and raises his arms to the sky, enthusiastically welcoming the celebrations in his place.
It’s 11 a.m.
The city is teeming, all dressed in red. Ah, okay, we say to ourselves. So it’s not because CF Montreal is coming here that all the hotel rooms in town are booked. It’s the convergence of 110,000 people who came to fill an arena hosting two Big Ten teams still undefeated after six games. Everything is explained.
We make our way through the crowd. The atmosphere is frenetic. We pass the gathering of the FOX network, broadcaster of the match, and we observe American TV at work. It screams, loudly.
Just like this man, tipsy, with a limp look, who uses an orange cone as a megaphone to bellow nonsense. It’s 11:30.
We arrive in the tailgate. A man in a fancy Iron Man suit happily agrees to have his photo taken, for a tip. He is more successful than his neighbor, with his Spider-Man costume faded like old jeans.
The start of the match is approaching. The party in the parking lot is coming to an end. A leftover of old chicken nuggets lies on a grill left on the ground behind a car, next to thousands of passers-by who converge again and again on the stadium. An incessant flow.
They say the party is coming to an end, but not for everyone. Especially not for these ladies who dance enthusiastically to Sandstorm by Darude, under a big top. We will never get out of this, dear readers.
We move away a little from the enclosure, in particular to try to find a place to write these lines. No chance. Even a 30-minute walk from Ohio Stadium, the restaurants are crowded, and so are the bars. The pedestrians, all scarlet, are just looking for a place to watch the match.
Game that ended 20-12 in favor of the Buckeyes.
We already suspected it in the morning, but our experience surrounding the game confirms it: college football seems a lot more popular than the NFL, here. We still see a few Cleveland Browns logos in the city, but it’s buried by Columbus’s love for its Buckeyes. Our taxi driver offered his theory on the way to campus Saturday morning.
“It’s because there are real issues” for the players, explains the friendly Samba, who has been going back and forth between the city center and Ohio Stadium for a few hours.
“In the NFL it’s all about money [it’s all about money]. The players have already succeeded. Here, they still have things to prove. Their family and friends are there to encourage them. »
So do military helicopters, it seems.
There were two Columbuses on Saturday morning. Four kilometers south of the university, we witnessed its peaceful, sleepy, almost deserted version… but also picturesque, especially on the magnificent Scioto River Parkway.
More than an hour and a half before the match, we could see the banners hanging from the planes flying over the campus in the distance. But the sound did not reach us. Only the breath and steps of amateur runners pierced the poetic silence of the place.
It was surprising, especially at the dawn of a particularly busy sports day in this Ohio city.
