The three friends made their collective way to the stadium with a palpable mixture of child-like anticipation and outright fear. The first home game of the year was always exciting, even if the Cougs hadn’t done much in the past few seasons. Last year’s 0-9 finish – including that humiliating 30-0 shutout in the Apple Cup – was far from inspiring. But this was the Pac 10, and these were the Washington State Cougars; the Palouse faithful lived and often died every autumn in the hope that this was a brand new season, and anything was possible. Besides, it was still August. The season had only just begun; things were more possible now than they were likely to be in a few weeks’ time.
As the group cut across the grassy area in front of the library heading towards the steps down the steep hill to Martin Stadium, Edison, in the middle of Caitlin and Joe, put his arms out and stopped them at the railings overlooking the sports facilities. ‘Hold on,’ he said, and the other two could hear the stirring sentimentality in his voice. They could hardly blame him, really. It was late August, when the weather in inland Washington was at its best. Hot and dry, with long, leisurely days and short but starry nights – both filled with the freedom of a semester not yet bogged down with mounting assignments and disappearing student loans. Caitlin and Joe could see by the look in his eyes that Edison was trying to take as much in as possible. It was the first game of the season, but it would be the last one that Edison would see this year. Four days from now, he’d be on a plane to the United Kingdom and leaving the autumnal embrace of the Palouse far behind.
Edison leaned over the railing, neck outstretched, and surveyed the horizon. The other two could see that was memorising the sight of the stadium, a shining focal point for thousands of die-hard fans making their way to the grounds. The classic horseshoe shape and their particular vantage point allowed him to see the whole of the stadium laid out beneath him, its open end inviting its patrons into its bosom with the promises that every new season held. It was an old stadium. Its aluminium bleachers, about half of which were already covered with expectant fans, shimmered under the Saturday sun with a brightness and a joy that mirrored the mood of the gathering crowd. The field of bright-green Astroturf provided an oasis in the middle of the campus – a huge WSU logo emblazoned proudly over the 50-yard line and the word ‘COUGARS’ marked the home team’s territory on either end. Holding only about 40,000 fans, Martin Stadium was small in relation to other schools in the conference, but it was also in Pullman, smack-dab in the middle of precisely nowhere, and despite its isolation from just about everything else in the Evergreen State it was filled to the gills for every home game, and sold out months in advance. Watching it fill up, from where they were, on a day like today, was magical.
By now, his start of this third year at WSU, Edison had learned that even a blind man could appreciate the spectacle of game day, and he closed his eyes to soak in the things that the afternoon sun might otherwise wash out. His nose filled with a broad – and slightly unpleasant – combination that alternately assaulted and amused his nostrils. The dry air of the Palouse carried the strong scents of any generic agricultural community in the late summer: freshly turned soil, just-cut grass, hot diesel fuel and the unforgettable fragrance of the ubiquitous wheat harvest that had perfumed the air since he crossed the Cascade Mountains at Ellensburg three weeks ago. But once that wind got to Pullman, it also picked up the odours that only a college town on game day could contribute. The smells of greasy hot dogs, salty popcorn and stale beer were as synonymous with college sport fans as the smell of ben-gay is with its athletes; you simply did not have one without the other. Even from where the three friends stood, high above the shiny stadium that seemed to exhale these game day smells, their mouths watered and their tongues ran across their thirsty lips in anticipation of what would be, win or lose, a very eventful day.
As his nose identified and grew accustomed to the smells swirling around him in the woosh of stadium-bound traffic, his ears began to tune into the unmistakeable sounds of the occasion. A group of loud-talking freshmen boys were bragging about their exploits from the night before, each trying to one-up their newly-made friends with how many beers they’d drank, or women they’d hooked up with. For them, college was only three weeks old – still new and full of limitless social potential compared to the confines of their parents’ houses. And if college was still new, game day was a level of party mob mentality they were unlikely to have experienced before; the excitement lifted their voices and their step as they disappeared on their way to the venue, absorbed by the swathing spectacle of the crowd. Farther away, faint but distinct, the WSU band was welcoming the fans to the game. Nothing says college football like the marching band, and the band itself took its responsibility of providing the atmosphere for the game very seriously indeed. Edison knew that as he approached the stadium the volume and the repetition of the same 3 or 4 songs would become almost unbearable. He was convinced that many fans drank just to drown out the incessant and often irrelevant cacophony of the marching band. For him, they weren’t so much an integral as an inescapable part of the college game. He opened his eyes, if for no other reason, so that his other senses would return and the presence of the band could be ignored for a little while longer.
‘You OK?’ Caitlin asked. She, better than anyone, knew how tough this was going to be for Edison. It was going to be tough for her, too. She gave his hand a gentle squeeze. Edison hadn’t even realised that she’d been holding his hand while his eyes were closed.
‘Yeah, fine,’ he lied unconvincingly. He wasn’t fine, of course – he was petrified. But he was determined not to let his impending departure ruin game day.
He looked at Caitlin, which did nothing to abate his growing sense of premature nostalgia. They’d been together since the third week of their Freshman year, and she still gave him butterflies in his stomach every time she smiled at him. She was nothing like the girl he had dated in high school. Caitlin was short, athletic, and had naturally tanned skin, large light brown eyes, and shoulder-length dark hair that was pulled back in a ponytail almost all of the time – only the use of different kinds or colours of hairbands and scrunchies would normally let you know she was dressing up, to the extent that she ever did. Occasionally, she’d wear jeans and a ‘fancy’ top, and she’d once worn a proper dress to Edison’s cousin’s Christening, but today, like most days, she was dressed in shorts, sandals and an oversized WSU t-shirt that clung just enough an in the right places to suggest that there was something very feminine hidden beneath the brightly-coloured cotton.
But it was her hands – the ones he could feel gently reassuring him now – and her smile that always made Edison aware of just how beautiful she was. Her long, elegant fingers and immaculately manicured nails seemed a stark contrast to the punishment of exercise Edison knew they went through routinely. The looked like the hands of an innocent debutante, but Edison knew that they were capable of some very sophisticated work. It was always the sinfully experienced hands that Edison saw when he looked at them – he knew exactly how much good could come from those hands, and it sent a warm wave of reflection over him. Her smile, full of teeth and embraced by deep dimples on either side, was equally angelic and could express a limitless range of sincerities, most of which concealed a underlying playful devilishness. She had a ‘who me?’ smile, a ‘now you’ve done it’, smile, a ‘bring it on’ smile, a ‘come and get me smile’ and the one he was seeing now: the ‘it will be OK’ smile. This one, at least right now, was his favourite, and the one he needed most to see. Overwhelmed, he bent down to kiss her. Her smile widened as she tilted her head back and closed her caramel coloured eyes in anticipation.
“Geeze… get a room, you two!” Joe said with exaggerated disgust. In fact, everything about Joe was exaggerated. He was a big lad, whose booming, friendly voice matched his stature and his personality stride for stride. Tall and wide, with long, thick curly hair that exploded maniacally from under whatever baseball cap he was bound to be wearing. He wore heavy-looking thick rimmed glasses, and had been able to go the entirety of their first two years at college without wearing long pants. He and Edison had been friends since Joe replaced Edison’s original roommate in the student dorms. That guy, Dave, had gone Greek in the second semester, and it was only a stroke of unbelievable luck that Joe and Edison got paired up as a result. Although a serious athlete in high school, Joe’s journey into collegiate life allowed him the freedom to let go of a long-standing expectations from his dad. He had been a decent college football player and who had always assumed that, given his natural size and strength, Joe would do the same. Joe had other ideas, and from his first day on campus, he had made sure that everybody knew that he was his own man. It was a matter of pride for him that he hadn’t had a haircut or played any kind of sport since that day. And it was those kinds of things that made Edison respect the hell out of him.
Edison hadn’t been able to break free so easily, or at least so permanently, even though his father wasn’t nearly as pushy as Joe’s. Edison hadn’t just been part of the high school – he lived it. And, to a very large extent, it defined him. He was the picture-perfect poster boy for The System: six-foot-one, blonde hair, blue eyes. Athletically built but also academically gifted. Captain of the football team, Senior Class President, Homecoming King and Peer Counsellor. Didn’t drink, didn’t smoke, didn’t do drugs and, somehow, still managed to be among the most popular kids in school. He steady girlfriend throughout high school was, predictably, a cheerleader who would go on to become a Lakefair queen. They cared a great deal for one another, but had broken up the summer before they left for their different colleges, amicably conceding that the suitability and the convenience of their relationship rightfully expired at graduation. Edison had gone to college a single man for the first time in three years and made good use of the three weeks before he got together with Caitlin. After those three weeks, during which he managed to cram in years’ worth of what he’d avoided in high school, he had come back from his brief sojourn into the wilds of young adulthood and settled in nicely with Caitlin, whose wholesome smile and mischievous hands had convinced him that being free and single wasn’t as much fun as being in love.
As Joe pulled away from the group in protest, Edison ignored him and continued to lean towards Caitlin. Always the more sensible of the two, she dodged his lips and moved her mouth to his ear, breathily whispering, ‘Later’, and shouted ‘Hold on, Joe… we’re coming!’ She shot Edison a frisky look that confirmed the hushed promise she’d just made and grabbed Joe’s hand, pulling Edison along reluctantly. Rejoined, the three friends made their way to the crowded stairwell that led down to the stadium’s entrance. Game day was back on, and neither the unpredictability of the team nor the din of the marching band could make today any less of an event.
