Boulder-born, Folsom-raised: A memoir of 100 consecutive games

 

Tonight, as I walk up the stairs into Folsom Field and give my ceremonial gaze at it’s breathtaking views and surroundings, it will mark the 100th consecutive Colorado Buffaloes home game I have attended. This feels special to me, so I am doing what any writer would do…writing about it.

Now, of course, 100 games takes us back many years, and any logic will tell you that 9-year old RK was not covering games from the press box in 2001. I was a fan, a big one at that, black and gold colored wig and all (IDK, I thought it was cool). Obviously, as journalists we are taught not to be fans and in my almost four years covering the Buffaloes from that perspective I truly believe I have separated my heart from the team, that’s why I feel comfortable looking back on my time as a fan. There’s no reason to hide it, in fact, I think my close following of the team for all those years has been one the greatest aids to my coverage.

With that said, wow, 100 games, where to start? Oh yeah, at the beginning.

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My mom had a new boyfriend, and she had obviously told him of my love of sports, he must have really liked her because he made an early power move to get me on his side.

“What do you have going on this Saturday,” he asked.

“Um, it’s the opening weekend of college football season,” I responded in the smart-ass tone you would expect from a 9-year old know-it-all. “The Buffs are playing on ESPN; I’ll be on the couch all day.”

My mom rolled her eyes, not sure if it was at my tone or the fact that she hated how I spent my weekends inside watching football, probably both.

“You could watch on ESPN,” he threw back. “Or you could come to the game with me; I have a ticket with your name on it.”

My eyes lit up like he had just put a bar of solid gold on the table in front of me, this was the Buffs and Fresno State, Craig Ochs and David Carr! I turned and looked at my mom with a look that was a mix of, ‘Mom, don’t you dare say I can’t go’ and also, ‘Marry this man right now.’

Now, this would have been a great way to begin the streak but I didn’t go to the game that weekend. Why? Because I was a little shit and “ran away from home” (this really just meant I went to a friends house in the neighborhood) earlier in the day when I didn’t get my way. My plan was to get back before we would leave for the game, but I wasn’t privy to the fact that this new guy likes to get to the stadium four hours before the game to do something called “tailgating.”

My mom went to the game in my place and my older sister made fun of me all night as I cried and whined about not being there while the Buffs battled David Carr and the Bulldogs of Fresno State. The Buffs eventually lost in a heartbreaker, but they must have had a great time because, while my mom was livid with me when they got back, “Buddy,” as he told me to call him, simply said, “Big one next week against Colorado State, how about it?”

I went and we had a blast as Chris Brown and Bobby Purify gashed the No. 24 ranked Rams for over 300 yards rushing, Buddy laughing in slight awe every time I would talk about where a guy went to high school or the NFL potential of a certain player. I had earned my invite to the next week and he had earned my seal of approval with mom.

Over the next few weeks, I began to fall in love with the whole thing, I learned quickly why Buddy liked to get there so early: a 15-foot grill and 100 of your closest friends, all with the same thing in mind – food and football. Yeah, this was the life, it was a place where I could go talk sports endlessly with other people as passionate as I was. But this was only the beginning of that love, it was later in that same season that my life would change for good.

Nov. 23, 2001:

I jumped out of bed faster than maybe ever before, it was game day, the Big XII North title on the line, the No. 15-ranked Buffaloes and the No. 1-ranked Nebraska Cornhuskers. The “Gold Lot” was only set to open four hours before the 1:40 kickoff but, “we’re gonna grease the parking lot guys,” Buddy said. The thought of grease grumbled my stomach as I remembered the deep-fried turkey of yesterday.

Success.

We were in the gates at 7:30 as a crisp bill hit the hands of an impressionable college kid. I threw my black and gold football to myself as the adults set things up.

Less than two hours later, and the lot was packed to the brim. The smells of the grill and beer filled the crisp air of the Boulder morning. It was similar to the other games I had been to, but the buzz was just different.

This next moment is something I will never forget for the rest of my life.

As I looked around, I felt it click on like a switch, my heart began to race with adrenaline, it was at this exact moment I realized that college football made me feel something that no other sport did. It was so much more real than the feelings I got from birthday parties at the Nuggets game or Sunday afternoons at Coors Field.

It was the students on their feet the whole game, it was the alumni who felt as if they took part ownership in their alma mater’s success, it was a roar that hit a different note as a live buffalo took the field.

It was on this day that I found my favorite sport and it was on this day that I knew there was no going back. Before the ball was even kicked I could have told you that I wouldn’t be missing a game in that stadium for a long, long time. Chris Brown scoring one billion touchdowns didn’t hurt either.

One thing I couldn’t have told you on that day, game six of this streak, was that rushing the field on the shoulders of the man who has now been a father-figure to me for 15 years would be my fondest memory of all 99 games to this point.

But that’s not to say it was the last good one, not by a long shot.

Oct. 5, 2002: 

I vividly remember this 35-31 win over Darren Sproles and the No. 13 ranked Kansas State Wildcats, not for the 94-yard touchdown catch by my favorite player, Jeremy Bloom, the 71-yard touchdown catch by Brian Calhoun (who I was sure would be a star, just didn’t think it would be for Wisconsin) or the 9-yard catch by offensive lineman Sam Wilder (for some reason I thought that was really cool). I remember this game because I watched it in the Athletic Director’s box with my fairly new friends Tucker (son of then AD Dick Tharp) and Campbell. Getting invited to watch the game in Tucker’s box was a big deal in 5th grade, I remember feeling like I was finally, really part of the crew at my new school.

I watched the Broncos game with those two guys just this last Sunday.

Nov. 16, 2002:

Buddy was out of town so he gave the tickets to my Mom and me, it was freezing out and I got to wear my sweet new CU jumpsuit my mom bought me at Marshalls earlier in the week. Imagine what Bill McCartney might wear while going for a bike ride today, that was it.

As cold as it was for us (we consumed three hot cocoas each, still the best hot cocoa I’ve ever had) it was much colder for Seneca Wallace. The ball was seemingly an ice cube, as he coughed up three fumbles, one of which was scooped and scored by Medford Moorer, the Buffs won 35-31 and claimed their second consecutive Big XII North title.

I claimed my second field storming, this time on the shoulders of some random guy who was sitting near us and convinced my mom he would keep me safe on the field. Shoutout to that guy for letting me down once we got down there so I could claim dozens of gloves from the players.

Nov. 8, 2003:

I split off with my friends before the game and we went over to where Ralphie would eventually finish her run, just after that took place, the Missouri Tigers took the field. Me, trying to be a cool sixth grader, yelled out, “Brad Smith, you suck d***!” As he ran by, it was the first time I had ever done anything like that. He actually looked up at me and I instantly felt horrible about it. Still kind of feel bad. Brad Smith, congratulations on your extensive NFL career on top of your impressive college career. Sorry about that.

Anyway, Brad Smith did kind of suck that day, throwing two picks and the Buffs beat the No. 22 ranked Tigers 22-16.

Oct. 16, 2004: 

The only time I missed Ralphie run in this entire streak, my football game went into overtime and we missed kickoff. Mason Crosby hit a school-record 60-yard field goal and the Buffs beat Iowa State 19-14.

Sept. 4, 2004:

The Rocky Mountain Showdown was back on campus and Folsom was lit. I remember we somehow had a decent amount CSU fans in our section and everybody was pretty mad about it. I was at that age now where I thought I could talk a bit of smack. I was going back and forth with this guy across the isle from us the whole game, sort of the way the Buffs were going back and forth with the Rams. Going into the final quarter, I got a little too into it and decided to bet this guy 20 dollars, I instantly regretted putting my entire net worth on the line and looked at Buddy: “You made the bet, you better be able to pony up that cash if you need to,” he said. I sighed, thinking he would have my back, but anytime he said pony up or cowboy up, he was serious.

As Justin Holland and the Rams drove down the field, attempting to orchestrate the game-winning drive, trailing 27-24, my heart was beating as fast as I could remember. Sure, I wanted the Buffs to win, but I just couldn’t fathom how stupid I would feel if I had to give up all of my allowance on this game.

The Rams were on the goal line now and Folsom was as loud as I’ve ever heard it, truly piercing. With a stop of former Buff Marcus Houston on second down, the volume reached a whole new level. The clocked ticked under 10 seconds and I felt a breath of relief, expecting the Rams to spike the ball on third down and send this thing to overtime. Instead, Sonny Lubick decided to go for it all, tossing a pitch out to Tristan Walker who was swallowed by J.J. Billingsly and Lorenzo Sims as time expired, Buffs win.

The mayhem and celebration went on for a while in our section and when I looked over to collect my bet the CSU fan was gone. I couldn’t believe it.

“What a loser,” Buddy said.

As we walked out of the stadium, I was torn between elation from the victory and anger of being robbed. Buddy, seeing how flustered I was reached into his pocket to gather his wallet.

“I can’t believe I’m paying up on somebody else’s bet, but you earned this,” he said as he pulled out a 20 dollar bill and handed it over. Never trust a Ram and NEVER welch on a bet.”

Oct. 22, 2005:

The Buffs rolled over KU 44-13, I only remember this game because as my friends and I wandered around the stadium, we noticed this guy on KU had a weird-shaped head. Weird-shaped heads were forever known as “C. Green” heads.

IDK, guys, memories.

Sept. 26, 2007:

You all know this one, the Buffs topped Sam Bradford the No. 3 Oklahoma Sooners behind a 17-point fourth quarter on the shoulders of Cody Hawkins.

Of course, I remember it for the Dykes interception, the Drescher fumble recovery, the Hawkins touchdown passes and all that, but how I really remember it is one of my fondest memories with the closest thing I’ve ever had to an older brother.

Cameron Schubert dated my older sister on and off for years but no matter what they were going through, he was always there for me. He taught me that chicks dig well-dressed men, he gave me my first beer (so yes, I actually do remember my first beer) and was always in for a nice long talk about football.

Anyway, on this day he had decided I was old enough to join him, my sister and his friend Tyler (one of the biggest Buffs fans you’ll ever meet) in the student section. It was just about as momentous of an occasion for me as when my Grandpa said I was old/good enough to set foot on the golf course, a true milestone.

I was in heaven, chanting “f*** ’em, up f*** ’em up” at the top of my lungs, you know really being a true adult.

Cam was a little torn from the start, as one of his best friends played for the Sooners, but as the Buffs mounted their comeback, his true black and gold colors began to shine through.

My most vivid memory from that day came just before Kevin Eberhart lined up for that game-winning field goal:

The students began to head for the aisles and make their way down for a field storming, I grabbed Cameron by the arm and jumped from the bleachers, “Let’s go, we’re gonna rush the field,” I said, feeling resistance.

He pointed at the white lines one at a time, counting by fives.

“Dude, this is a 45-yard field goal,” he said. “Don’t jinx it!”

I hopped back on that bleacher faster than you could say “Pat Brougham.”

Of course, the kick went through, the party was on and we danced on the field like maniacs.

It wasn’t my last memory with him, but it’s the one I always go back to. Cam passed away unexpectedly in June of 2013, he was just 26.

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Now, as tears stream down my face and my word-count nears 2,500 I think that’s enough of the extended accounts of my memories at Folsom Field. Of course there was West Virginia in 2008, another one of the loudest games I remember, there were the numerous high-school Homecomings I missed, most notably to see the Buffs win their last game over a ranked opponent, a 34-30 victory over KU in 2009.

There was the Georgia game in 2010, one of my first games as a student, and a game in which I remember thinking I had finally found the single best person to talk Buffs and watch a game with, a springboard to one of my best friendships and the best podcast co-host out there.

And then there was Sept. 29, 2012, after about a year of interning, I finally got the call to live my dream and cover a game as a journalist from the press box at Folsom Field, a dream that was born in Folsom and a dream that lives in Folsom. It wasn’t pretty for the Buffs, as they fell 42-14 to UCLA, but I got to interview my roommate on a stellar punting performance.

Another day that I’ll never forget as long as I live.

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I contemplated whether or not to share this a couple of times, so if you’re reading this and you’re not my mom or step-dad, I guess I went the share route. I didn’t want it to come off as me bragging about a streak that I’m sure can be beaten by any number of people reading this or people that will be in Folsom Field tonight but more as an excuse to share some of my best memories in a place that is a piece of who I am, and hopefully ignite some memories for you.

Folsom Field is where I grew up, it’s where I learned about being a man, it’s where I cherish memories with best friends, it’s where I remember lost friends, it’s where I live my dream every day.

Boulder-born, Folsom-raised.