Game Day

The atmosphere is filled with mild energy as we wait for the projector to start working. Several students have clustered together at squat orange and blue tables, talking animatedly to their friends about everything but football. Some of them are gathered in groups of ten or more, but more tables seat just a pair of friends or a guy sitting by himself, trying not to look awkward. Every student here, with one notable exception, is clad in a t-shirt and jeans. Crimson and white are everywhere.

The exception is one girl with thick, dark hair pulled into a tight bun sitting near me on my right. She looks as if she were about to go to work, Her blouse, a deep turquoise, looks expensive, and she wears matching earrings. Her face is young, she can't be more than twenty. She speaks pleasantly to her friend, a very thin girl wearing a bright orange t-shirt, at their table.

At one point during their conversation, Orange slams her hands down on the table and half-shouts, "Wait, you speak Spanish too?" They immediately switch to speaking Spanish, much to Orange's delight. She grins almost unconsciously each time her friend answers her in Spanish.

Despite all of the school colors emblazoned on people's clothing, it seems like no one is particularly excited to see this game. Maybe more than forty years of losing seasons has taught the Aggies not to expect much. Instead, everyone's eyes slide to the table next to the projector, on which rest a thermos and a pair of covered stainless steel tins issuing the salty smell of chicken wings. The students were invited with the promise of free food, and it's clear that this is what is really on everybody's mind.

Two of the event coordinators--a tall college student wearing multiple pieces of Aggie gear whom I silently dub the Superfan on the spot, and a slightly older woman with a tired expression and ponytail--sit huddled around a black laptop. It looks old and boxy--so outdated it fairly screams school-issued.

They are trying to get the simulcast to come up, as Superfan tells us when he gets up periodically and walks from table to table, explaining their progress with a cheerful, yet nervous expression. He seems to have conceived the event. He speaks of the technical difficulties with more disappointment than hope.

One by one, the students pull out their phones. Those who came alone succumb first, then those who came in pairs, and finally, some members of the groups. Even Orange and her friend, talking so animatedly before, have turned their eyes down to their gadgets. A handful of students leave, remarking to each other that they can just watch the game "at home," by which most of them mean, "back at the dormitory."

When I glance up from my notes again, a pair of boys have approached the table with the food. They trade some brief words with Superfan, who nods, smiles, and opens the tins to reveal mountain of wings. The boys each grab a glass of punch and a plateful of wings.

A hesitant trickle of students, mostly girls, approach the food table. This quickly turns into a large line. Now people are talking and laughing again, giggling about the mess the wings make and joking about the faulty projector.

Most of the students finish their wings in a matter a minutes. Conversation flags again. People look restless.

Shortly after, the game shows up on the projector. The sound of talking gradually dies as people turn their chairs to face the screen. A feeling of camaraderie settles somehow, and people from other tables make little remarks to each other about the players onscreen. Everyone seems relieved to once again have something to do.