It’s a peculiar feeling to hear tens of thousands of people cheering at your football team’s expense. It’s a peculiar feeling to watch thousands of students rush a football field and not join in.
Situated in the upper level of Minnesota’s student section with my face concealed behind a maroon rally towel, I chose to let the crescendo of the Minnesota crowd tell me what happened on Luke Drzewiecki’s game winning field goal attempt instead of watching it with my own eyes.
It wasn’t like I was too scared to watch. In fact, I knew exactly what was coming and had made peace with it multiple minutes before the Gopher game-winner sailed through the uprights.
The whole situation reminded me of that famous image from Quentin Tarantino’s Once Upon a Time in Hollywood when Leonardo DiCaprio, portraying actor Rick Dalton, sees himself on TV and points ahead to show his friend.
That’s what it felt like seeing Minnesota quarterback Drake Lindsey slip away from the flailing arms of Hawkeye defensive lineman Bryce Hawthorne, keep his eyes downfield, and find a wide open Jalen Smith at midfield with space to run.
The same feeling of watching Indiana’s Elijah Surratt race away from Hawkeye defenders in last year’s homecoming game, or seeing Oregon quarterback Dante Moore fit a ball into an impossibly tight window in the freezing November rain.
Not the kind of play that makes you want to break something, but one that makes you solemnly drop your head and realize, “Hey, I’ve seen this one before.”
Choosing not to watch the kick wasn’t because my Hawkeye heart just couldn’t bear to see it, nor was it a spur of the moment idea that would make for an interesting lede to a story (maybe it was). I just genuinely had no interest in watching any more Hawkeye football at that point.
Earlier in the fourth quarter, probably after near-turnover #17, second-down-and-long run #52, or just the sight of the Hawkeye offense in general, I took the towel out of my pocket and tucked it under the back of my hat, letting it drape forward over my face.
As I explained the utility of my idea to my friend, a girl in the row in front of us who had, minutes ago, proudly showed me a “Beat Iowa” Iowa State shirt underneath her Minnesota overalls, chimed in.
“I did that during the Minneapolis Miracle,” she said, going on to say that she’s regretted it ever since.
“I’m so sorry,” I replied, genuinely meaning it, but also mentally noting that our situations were fundamentally different. Her team, the Vikings, still had a chance at the time. Iowa technically did too, but upon taking off the Hawkeye-colored glasses, they really didn’t.
The Hawkeyes played an all-around miserable game, pulling the plug on starting quarterback Jeremy Hecklinski after five woebegone drives. At some point, they likely realized that when things somehow got worse under Hank Brown, they made the call too soon, but were tied to their choice.
Right before Drzewiecki attempted the kick, I considered calling an audible on the whole “not looking” thing, but like Iowa, I decided I was tied to my choice too.
After the kick sailed through the uprights, we stood and watched a river of students flow onto the field, then quietly exited the stadium without issue.
After spending the entire game chanting “We hate Iowa!”, offering sarcastic high fives, and singing along to Kernkraft 400, not a single Gopher fan cared enough to rub the final kick in our miserable Iowa faces. They just wanted to join the festivities on the field.
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