This weekend, a rip in the fabric in the universe became evident when three football games--Michigan - Western Michigan, Notre Dame - South Florida, and West Virginia - Marshall--were first delayed and then over early because of lightning strikes and heavy rain. In addition, the Sprint Cup race at Atlanta was postponed for 36 hours due to downpours of rain. Apparently Tropical Storm Lee is taking the brunt for wreaking havoc with my entertainment needs. And again, we see how sports has revealed its corporate dark roots.
There are a number of things wrong with this picture that point out seismic flaws in the way we think. Ending a football game without its being over is just wrong. How were the fans of the Mountaineers for instance supposed to celebrate a victory for a game that wasn't really over. Even a lightning strike wouldn't have lit up a rain-drenched couch in Morgantown on Sunday night. And while we're at it, ESPN reported--with video footage no less--that a fan whose faculties may have been impaired was struck by lightning during a rain delay. Apparently, this poor soul had overdone it with the beer being sold at Mountaineer Field for the first time, and he was a little slow leaving the stands--being prone and semi-comatose and all. A Sporting News report on Sunday said WVU said ESPN got it wrong--another instance of inventive Mountaineer fans getting over on the city boys who are good looking enough to hold a microphone. No self-respecting WVU journalism grad would have fallen for such a thing; it's just too obvious.
Rain-outs and lightning strikes haven't until recently been an issue for football games. Back in the old days, a football stadium was built of concrete and wooden bleacher seats. Today, stadiums (yeah, I know, the plural is stadia) are steel benches on steel bleachers with stories of luxury boxes, press boxes, and super-score boards--veritable lightning rods. So, it isn't out of the question that some poor beer soaked fan might get zapped by a lightning bolt if a storm happened to act up within a six-mile radius. And player's equipment nowadays is bound to attract a zap too, especially headgear. Back in the days of leather helmets and pads, it was slog it out to the bitter end through the rain and mud, no matter what. This weekend, we had to endure emptying 60,000 ticket-holders into the bowels of the stadium and the Indoor Practice Facility (for football??? Speechless). I wonder if the luxury box occupants had to leave their cushy confines in the sky. Having the dough to watch an outside game inside is what being an insider is all about--that and a wet bar.
So, it's the 21st Century, and football has fallen victim to the weather. At Mountaineer Field (actually Mylan Puskar Stadium, named for a pharmaceutical company owner), the Mountaineer faithful had to evac to the Caperton (named for a former Governor and insurance company heir) Indoor Practice Facility. I am sure fan safety, and not university liability, drove these decisions, just as allowing more fans to buy tickets drove decisions to build stadium super-structures that attract lightning bolts. I mean, how often might a thunderstorm roll through a university town in the Southeast during hurricane season. I guess we won't see many more Mud Bowls, Ice Bowls, or Snow Bowls. But I can't help but lament the passing of a era when mud was mud, lightning was lightning, and young men toughing it out was what we loved to watch on TV.
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