Go Green! Go...go...okay I know this, give me a minute...

Going to an all-girls school, my high school football experiences were few and far between. I went to a few of the boy’s school games because a guy thought watching a game I didn’t understand while freezing my butt off on a cold metal bleacher would make a good date. My junior year, several guy friends offered to teach me the game and eventually came to regret the decision. I still have no idea how there can be two first downs, and the point system is beyond me.

But I am a sucker for school spirit. I like being a part of something — even if that something is calling the other team a b—— every time we get a first down. Actually, especially if that something is calling the other team a b—— after we get a first down. And so in July, shortly after the burst of Spartan pride brought about by my Academic Orientation Program, I spent two paychecks purchasing MSU season football tickets. And then promptly forgot about them.

No, really, I forgot all about it. When someone finally reminded me the Thursday before the game I already had planned a visit with my mother that couldn’t be moved, and had an event to cover for The State News. In retrospect, this alone is an embarrassing freshman error.

But it’s not nearly as bad as what I did next.

The Saturday of what would have been my first college football game, I overslept and awoke to my mother banging on my dorm door. Half-climing, half-falling out of my loft, I threw on a shirt from the floor and the pair of shorts I basically wore all summer. Rushing out the door, the only comment from my Mom was something to the effect of “We have to hurry, I need to get up to the cottage for a restful weekend and you have work today.”

It was in the car on the way to the Verizon store that I realized my shorts were a deep navy blue and the shirt I had grabbed was yellow. Bright yellow.

My outfit was the very colors of Montana State University.

I spent the rest of the morning clutching my oversized bag to my chest and insisting we use the alleyways behind stores whenever possible. But it was no use. On Grand River Avenue in the middle of a throng of green, white and glares, any remnant of a school spirit-filled freshman died.

Well, maybe she didn’t die. She was just knocked unconscious. The Central Michigan game outfit was much smoother. Maybe because I hid every yellow object of clothing in the back of my closet.