With a noon kickoff we had to get up and going pretty early. It’s a process made all the easier when you wake up at the tailgate. It was a cold night for everyone…except me. The RV only had a quarter tank of propane for the heat, so we had to ration it out by only using the heater intermittently. I was happily cocooned in my sleeping bag (rated down to zero degrees), but the commotion of everyone stirring woke me up to the cold, cold world. And within about five minutes I went from nested isolation to tailgating with 150,000 people.
Thanks to some Fireball apple cider Jell-O shots we got to know the guys in the RV next to us. And within a few minutes we were all on the rooftops of our respective vehicles. From there it was a pretty short logical leap to playing beer pong across the ten-foot gap between the RV’s. And that’s how this picture came to be. It was taken from the Michigan side. The ball is hurtling through the chilled late-autumn air, a perfect flick of the wrist sending the sphere of white plastic on a trajectory to one of six red solo cups. Beaver Stadium looms in the background as we collectively stand on the balls of our feet ready for whatever carum the ball may take at the mercy of wind and gravity and physics.
It’s the most perfect tailgate photo ever.