A sixteen year odyssey across the backroads of America during the ultimate College Football roadtrip.

Author: Pigskin Pursuit (Page 5 of 61)

Rice vs UTEP – Owls bury the Miners…

Friday afternoon I set out on the road from San Marcos towards Houston, opting for the rolling backroads of Central Texas in lieu of I-10. Cruising smooth ribbons of asphalt along State Highway 71, I zip through iconic Texas towns like Bastrop and Brenham bypassing hordes of Dairy Queens that mark each little downtown.

I stop only once, for lunch, at Zimmerhanzels BBQ in Smithville. Tucked inside the innocuous orange steel building lies some of the finest BBQ in Texas, along with an equally impressive collection of deer mounts. An old timer hobbles in line in front of me, dressed in crisp blue Dickies and a check pattern shirt, his deep wrinkled face bearing eons of work in the sun. An obvious regular, the counter girl recognizes him and offers a cheery “your usual chopped sandwich Jim?” Without a word the man nods, and the spunky girl drops his sandwich on the orange plastic cafeteria tray as he shuffles on down the line. Not a word spoken and the man gets a spread of some of Texas’ finest BBQ….impressive.

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I opt for a combo of their brisket and sausage, arranged neatly behind glass display cases, waiting as the counter girl carves the meat to order. I pay cash at the end of the line (they take no plastic in these parts) then retreat to an arrangement of small school tables they have for dine-in customers. A few minutes later, the lunch rush pours in from an armada of heavy duty pickup trucks parked outside, wrangler jeans and muddy work boots spilling into the doorway – always a good sign.

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Pressing further east into Brenham, the wheel of the rental car swerves into the parking lot of the Blue Bell ice cream factory in a screeching cloud of dust. No stranger to a scoop, I saunter in for a few samples from the Texas ice cream staple. They have a few seasonal items on the menu, and I’m tempted into a couple modest cups of the chocolate cherry and spiced pumpkin pecan, generously doled out by the counter girl for a buck apeice. A few pints for the road look tempting, but against a few hours of hot Texas sun in the car, they stand no chance.

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A few hours later, after braving the afternoon traffic on the outskirts of Houston, I meet up with my friend Brian. The same friend of Georgia fame from last year, when we’d witnessed the Dawgs vs LSU nail biter in Athens after pre-gaming between the hedges. While a pair of games at Rice and Houston didn’t have quite the same appeal as a duo of SEC juggernauts, he agreed to come along anyway and even offered to put a roof over my head for the weekend.

After a quick handshake, he guides me into the gated garage of his upscale apartment complex where I carefully squeeze my shitbox rental into a numbered parking space between a couple of exotic import cars. A Whole Foods Market is connected to the same building, and a few other high end shops dot the neighborhood. After being hosted by a handful of different friends this year in nicer parts of town, clearly I’ve become accustomed to some of the finer things. A college football bon vivant, if you will…

While the apartment might be swanky, my tastes remain humble, and we pop the caps of a few Shiners – that delightful Texas nectar – to get the night underway. I stuff a sack full of rain gear between sips, as the forecast for the entire weekend predicts nearly continuous bouts of rain. After a couple of brews, we order a car through Uber, a far more palatable alternative than the nightmarish traffic and parking in Houston – a city which simply grew too fast for its infrastructure. But the ride proves anything but easy, as the clueless driver struggles with the complex nuances of voice navigated, turn by turn GPS, and I’m forced to bark out instructions from the back seat.

We circle Rice Stadium for a few minutes, the parking lots all but vacant on a drizzly Friday night. With a stated capacity of 47,000, the stadium is far bigger than expected for the Owls program, and the hulking concrete grandstands towering overhead as stadium lights glow in the mist. We mill around for a few minutes until I spot what I’m looking for, a pair of free tickets from a kind woman in a navy blue Rice hoodie. Entering the stadium, we bypass the first deck, however, opting instead to hike up to the second level on the elusive myth of beer sales. A few amber colored, draught Ziegenbocks confirm the rumor, and we settle into the open grandstands as the Owls storm onto the field through an inflatable blue tunnel in front of a meager audience.

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With the field a bit greasy, the contest starts slowly as both teams struggle for position in the first quarter. The game picks up in the second frame, however, as the Owls finally start moving the ball on a pair of nice drives. Serviceable Rice quarterback Driphus Jackson connects with his favorite target, a speedy wide receiver named Mario Hull, who tallies up 150 yards on the night and a touchdown catch. While the Owls had several chances to close out the Miners, they keep the sloppy contest interesting before finally closing out the orange clad foes from the with a final score of Rice 31 UTEP 13. With the win, the Rice Owls have secured bowl eligibility and a trip to the post season!

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During a break in the action, I climb a few rows up the stands to meet up with Jarrett and Al; a couple of college football fanatics that I’d located through their blog www.collegefootballquest.com. They’re easy enough to spot, as Jarrett is garbed in a signature blue Florida Gators cap, and the aluminum bleachers are all but empty. On a quest to see a game in every college stadium in the country, the dynamic duo has made it to about 27 venues so far and they keep an impressive running list of favorite spots and commentary on their website.

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Averaging about 5-6 games a year, the “Questers” take a more methodical approach than my exhausting weekly blitzkrieg. Slow and steady is the name of their race, and they anticipate completing the goal around 2030, no small feat when trying to coordinate schedules around two sets of wives, children and careers. Located on Long Island, Al and Jarrett share a similar logistical challenge as I in getting to games from the college football vacuum of the northeast and their woes of airline travel ring all too familiar. We spend a few minutes chatting, swapping stories about shared adventures and future plans, some of which may overlap in the pacific Northwest in the near future. It’s yet another incredibly rare opportunity to connect with some of the few other people in the world as fanatical about exploring the sport as I am.

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Special thanks to my friend Brian (pictured) for hosting me for the weekend, and agreeing to come along to a few games that a lot of other folks might pass up. Can’t wait to hit a few more with you next year man!

Thanks to the College Football Quest crew for finally getting to say hello in person and being as devoted to their journey as I am. Also, thanks for tipping me off about the early Houston kickoff time the next day. Can’t wait for our paths to cross again fellas!
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Texas State vs Arkansas State – Bobcats bite the Red Wolves…

Kicking off the weekend of my Texas triple header was a Thursday night Sun Belt showdown in San Marcos, Texas – home of the Texas State Bobcats. As one of a dozen FBS programs in the football crazed Lonestar State, the ‘cats had eluded a visit during my Dallas days. But the promise of a triple header weekend (with additional stops at Rice and Houston), along with the allure of some proper Texas BBQ, made a trip to San Marcos an easy sell.

It’s a long drive from Houston, but pleasant, after escaping the clutches of nightmarish urban congestion. Wide open plains stretch in the distance as I blast down I-10, the cruise control set at a comfortable 80mph. A few thunderheads ominously gather in the western distance, great columns rolling over in the horizon like black surf. Cattle graze listlessly on the lush fall grass, shaded under twisted live oak canopies poking out of the prairie.

Approaching the I-35 corridor, midway between Austin and San Antonio, San Marcos has experienced explosive growth in the past decade as part of the great population migration to business friendly Texas. Chain restaurants clump around the exits, their gaudy neon signs littering the skyline next to garish billboards. Naturally, I opt for something a bit more tasteful – a massive barbecue lunch at the newly christened Kent Black’s BBQ. Kin to the infamous Blacks Barbecue of Lockhart, the barbecue capitol of Texas, Kent Blacks only recently opened their doors but boast over 80 years of BBQ tradition attributed to the Black family name. Evidently, the brick pits at this new location are already chugging out first rate cue’ and I settle into a heaping plate of brisket and ribs, capped with a Jurassic sized beef rib.

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Bellied up for the night, I head towards Bobcat Stadium and slip into some free parking next to a set of railroad tracks across the street , quickly setting off to survey the tailgating grounds. True to it’s reputation as one of the preeminent party schools in Texas, the revelry does not disappoint. While they may not enjoy the same mass following as their burnt orange neighbors to the north, pound for pound Texas State may have some of the most raucous tailgating in the game.

Lifted trucks are stuffed into the lots with giant speakers thumping in the beds, pumping out anything from Randy Rogers Band to Swedish House Mafia. A few setups even feature live bands, and dozens of cowboy boots scuttle rhythmically across the asphalt as tanned legs two-step to the twang. Beer cans litter the ground along with a few empty tins of dip, while the aroma of bbq smokers wafts through the humid night air. A few cops ride by in a golf cart chuckling at some of the outlandish antics, they keep an eye on things, but refrain from the need for heavy handed intervention. It’s a raucous yet positive, magnificent scene. The best of what tailgating should be.

As the lights of Bobcat Stadium flicker in the gathering night mist, kickoff beckons and I make my way towards the shining concrete facade. I score a free ticket from a woman draped in a maroon ‘Cats sweatshirt, she’s waving fistfuls of them outside the entrance gates as fans shuffle in from the parking lots. Booming across the loudspeakers, It’s senior night for the Texas State squad, and after each of the graduating players is personally announced they greet their family on the field. Shortly after, the rest of the team pours out of the tunnel as gold and red fireworks blast into the sky, the smoke hovering at field level for a few extra beats in the humid night air.

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A light patter starts to fall as the game kicks off, but the Bobcats are undeterred. They run roughshod over the Red Wolves, jumping out to a 28-14 lead at halftime. Junior running back Robert Lowe annihilates the Arkansas State defense, gashing them for 236 yards against four touchdowns – a career night for the Waxahachie, Texas native. Despite the foul weather, the largest collegiate dance team – the Texas Strutters – make their halftime appearance. The crowd gazes for a few moments and undergrads cheer, as hundreds of mini skirt and cowboy hat clad women rhythmically dance and kick legs high in the air for the performance. The second half of football plays out much the same as the first, as the Bobcats run away with a lopsided 45-27 victory. They cement their position in the upper tier of the Sunbelt Conference with a convincing senior sendoff.

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Maryland vs Michigan State – Terps trounced in the Byrd…

After a Navy game in the afternoon, it’s a quick shot over to Landover for the evening tilt in Byrd Stadium. With only a few minutes to spare before kickoff, the parking situation on the Maryland campus is an absolute abomination. One narrow road leads into the parking lots and traffic backs up for miles as the hapless, yellow vested attendants direct traffic into a cluster of steel chaos. A line of gridlock stands between me and kickoff, and I’m not pleased about it.

After an agonizing 30 minute wait behind an endless line of tail lights, I pull into the first lot I am able, gladly forking over $17 in exchange for the freedom of walking. With kickoff a few ticks away, I quite literally sprint towards the stadium, snatching up a quick pair of tickets along the way for $30 apiece. Energy swells as I near the stadium, Terps fans rife with anticipation for their biggest home game of the year against Big 10 conference leader Michigan State.

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With cell phone service completely jammed, it takes a few minutes to locate my sister. In town for work, she’d reluctantly agreed to hit another game with me this year, despite the mercury dipping will into the 20’s on a frigid Old Line State night. Any hopes of entering the stadium quickly were soon dashed at the entrance gates, as a mob of fans stack up at the woefully understaffed iron gates. It takes another fifteen minutes to simply enter the stadium, the entire process backed up by a measly pair of security personnel, insistent upon the usual foolish rigamarole of frisking, patting and groping.

Put simply, the traffic and crowd control at Maryland is an absolute disaster. Easily the worst I have seen in all my travels. They have some serious work to do to better equip themselves for the task of Big 10 football.

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Despite the ambitious 51,802 turnout, Terps fans are quickly dismayed by the sound thrashing they receive on the field. They cough the ball up four times, victims of an anemic offense that manages only 6 yards rushing the entire contest. Michigan State fans erupt in celebration at each foible, our section in particular decked in a sea of green coats and winter hats. The Spartan faithful have turned out in droves for the contest, occupying nearly four full sections of the stadium, their boisterous cheering smothering the lifeless Terrapin crowd. Sparty tears up 482 yards of total offense, perfectly split between rushing and passing and asserting their dominance over the Big 10 newcomers. In the end, Michigan State rolls to an easy 37-15 victory, keeping their conference championship hopes alive.

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Special thanks to my sister for coming along on another frigid adventure this year, and perhaps next year in California we can catch something a bit more suitable to your climatic preferences.

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Full Clickthrough Gallery Below

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