Sitting in the opposing student section is ballsy when you’re rooting for the other team. That’s a known fact. But, most college students know better than to actually wear the opposing team’s gear in the home team’s student section. I guess I missed that memo.

Sitting in the opposing student section is ballsy when you’re rooting for the other team. That’s a known fact. But, most college students know better than to actually wear the opposing team’s gear in the home team’s student section. I guess I missed that memo.

Yep, I was “that guy” this past Saturday in Beaver Stadium. Penn State vs. Kent State, with the football fanatic in the stands wearing blue and gold, not blue and white. By the end of the game, I had been called every curse word known to mankind and was the subject of a very common chant when an opposing fan is spotted. To give you a hint, it rhymes with “haaaaastleeeee, haaaastleeeee!”

The atmosphere was electric. Even for a (so-called) “pointless” game, the stadium was packed. Tailgaters were everywhere. The smell of charcoal and barbeque filled the air. The sky was clear and the sun was beaming. It was the perfect setting for college football, and what I thought, a perfect day for an upset.

Once in the actual stadium, I walked the 14 rows up to my spot in the bleachers. Even though they were passed out randomly, my Penn State friend scored some nice tickets (big ups, Danielle).

As you could imagine, this was probably equivalent to the legendary “walk of shame.” Penn State diehards were yelling “KENT STATE?!” and giving me looks that pretty much said, “Are you serious?”

All I was focusing on were my Penn State friends behind me, saying, “Keep walking… Keep going… Don’t even respond…” I wasn’t planning on it. Fourteen rows felt like four hundred.

My philosophy was simple: We weren’t a rival, they’re not afraid of Kent State, and surely the fans think they’re going to win by at least 40 points. If Kent were to win (like I thought they were), I’d turn my shirt inside out and act upset so I could make it out in one piece.

Right from the start, I truly thought the Flashes had a chance. Take away a few bad passes, a few shaky punts that determined field position, and we were in the game.

Penn State was forced to respect our run defense early. Going into the half, we were down a mere 14 points to one of the top teams in the nation. Slowly but surely, the jokes about Kent State started to turn to more serious, hate slurs.

A drunk kid went off on me, which further proved my theory that alcohol and football don’t mix. If he was sober, I’d be surprised if he knew how many points a field goal was worth. But, I kept my mouth shut and just smiled. Given that I saw only one other Kent State fan in the area, I’d say that I was a little outnumbered.

The chant was the highlight of my day, sadly. I was talking to one of my friends when all of a sudden I heard the word referring to where number dos comes out being chanted. I looked up, and everybody in the section was pointing at me in unison. It went on for a good ten seconds, I couldn’t stop laughing the whole time, and naturally held up the No. 1. I sent out a text to my editor and the response made me laugh even harder: “Lou Holtz would be proud right now.”

The game itself was frustrating for me. I wanted to yell every time Kent State did something good and yell even louder each time they did something bad. That was held in check for a good portion of the game. There were a few times where I’d let one slip, but my fellow pal/enemy would give me the look. We weren’t in Kansas anymore.

In the end, the scoreboard did not show how close the game really was, and the run-ins with the Penn State fans did not overshadow the experience. I did learn that there were a few understanding people in the Penn State community. Not all were jerks and not all booed the Kent State kid.

Some gave me props for having the guts to do it, some had personal connections to Kent, and I even met a `71 Kent State grad who was in the same position as me. If the score was a little bit closer, I bet the attitudes would have been a lot different. But I’ll give Happy Valley the benefit of the doubt.

Now I’m just planning for a Sunday in the Dawg Pound wearing my black n’ gold gear.

Contact sports columnist Michael Moses at [email protected].