It was a beautiful Central Florida night for football—mid-70s and lighter-than-usual humidity—as I made the 1.5-mile walk from my office to Brighthouse Networks Stadium on Thursday evening.
I’ve lived in Orlando since 2004, but, despite being a huge college football fan, I had never before ventured over to the city’s signature university, the University of Central Florida, to see the Citronauts Golden Knights play. I took a new job this past spring, with my office nestled just north of campus, and, with the BYU Cougars visiting for a Thursday night game, it seemed the perfect time to go see a UCF game.
Two hours before kickoff, I didn’t have a ticket. I suspected it wouldn’t be tough to find one.
“There should be plenty of people selling tickets all along McCulloch,” a co-worker who attended UCF assured me.
So I left the office about an hour before the game, walking south down Alafaya and turning east down McCulloch, looking for the ubiquitous scalpers one always sees at such events. I struck up a conversation with a friendly couple headed to the game, then passed them and walked on, eager to secure tickets.
I passed a small parking area (no charge), walked on to the corner of McCulloch and North Orion Blvd. without seeing anyone selling. I found this curious but wasn’t concerned. I could see the stadium now. As I approached, I saw parking lots that looked suspiciously like parking lots, with only a few scattered RVs with tailgate spreads. I heard music playing at a respectable volume.
It was quiet, friendly, and laid back. No one hassled the visiting BYU fans interspersed throughout the clumps of fans headed to the game.
Still, I saw no one selling tickets and I began to get a little concerned. I doubted it was sold out, but I still needed to secure entrance. At the outskirts of the stadium ground, I asked a guy with a staff credential about tickets. He politely pointed me toward the box office and explained where I should sit if I wanted to be with the home fans. When asked about scalpers, he thought for a minute.
"They probably didn’t think they could get rid of tickets on a weeknight," he opined.
“Oh,” I said, nodding, although Ohio State fan in me was skeptical of the explanation.
I walked up to the box office. Three windows were open and only one was involved with a customer.
“You look bored,” I said to a young lady—a student, I assumed—at one of the empty windows.
“Eh, maybe a little,” she admitted.
I asked for an inexpensive seat among the home fans and purchased this (note the price difference between Ohio State and UCF):
I walked up to the gate, and again was met by no crowd and no line. Multiple people were there to scan my ticket and it was about half an hour before kickoff. I walked through the concourse, passing the UCF Marching Band. I found my seat and watched the end of warmups. This was the view:
There were lots of empty seats. I wanted to sit among the home fans to learn their fight song, chants, and traditions. I really needn’t have bothered. But the couple behind me was nice. He was a Florida alum and she went to Florida State (house divided, y’all!) and they had a daughter who was a student.
Everyone in my area was friendly and the only issue I had was when a female fan accused me of being in her seat, but I excuse her confusion because Row C was the second row in the section and she had a Row B seat. Row A is actually on the walkway between the upper and lower “deck,” accommodating handicapped fans.
The "upper deck" at Brighthouse Networks Stadium is about the top of A Deck height in Ohio Stadium, with the top dozen rows or so perhaps at lower B Deck level.
Not actually the entire UCF band.
I saw virtually zero UCF jerseys and only a few BYU jerseys. Some UCF fans wore those cheesy “shirsey” things that are a cross between a t-shirt and a jersey. It was only after the game that I saw a few authentic-looking Blake Bortles jerseys.
I laughed in pre-game when the PA announcer welcomed “The Pride of Central Florida,” which is displayed here on the right.
The band was actually much larger than this and the rest of the group came onto the field later.
The anthem was played and we settled in for the game. I’m in a good mood because most of the folks around me are so nice, so I make some jokes.
"Usually you have to go to Michigan to see this many empty seats." - joke I've told to literally everyone near me pic.twitter.com/x6rFMxbYb7
— Michael Citro (@11W_Michael) October 9, 2014
These are not Big Ten fans, so the joke is met with quizzical looks.
FIRST QUARTER
The crowd has finally filled in somewhat. There are still thousands of empty seats, all around the stadium.
UCF is dominating BYU. The Knights hold the ball for nearly half of the first quarter on their opening drive, scoring a touchdown. I know I’m in trouble because the UCF fan in front of me is yelling “WHO?” every time the announcer says a BYU player’s name. This is going to get old. Also, every time the Knights make a first down, the PA announcer says “That’ll move the chains for another, UCF…” and the entire crowd yells “FIRST DOWN!” They also make the first down signal with their hands. Literally, every UCF fan does this. It’s simultaneously adorable, annoying and awesome in its absurdity.
A BYU player is injured on the touchdown and it’s bad enough to cause a long delay and bring out a stretcher. The “WHO?” guy in front of me is unconcerned about the player and just wants him dragged off the field so his team can kick an extra point.
The announcer talks a lot. A lot. The game presentation crew has the original Jock Jams CD up there, somewhere. I can tell by the musical selections.
The Knights take a 10-0 lead into the second quarter, holding BYU to four total yards. Three injury timeouts and several incomplete passes make the opening period take forever.
SECOND QUARTER
UCF’s chants are pretty basic. For side-to-side stadium action, they chant “Black!” and are answered “Gold!” Their version of the four-sided O-H-I-O stadium cheer is “U-C-F-Knights!” I heard no other chants or songs, including a fight song. Maybe I missed it. If I did, that says a lot about it.
BYU’s defense starts playing better. I am talking strategy with “Florida guy” and “Florida State wife” behind me. At some point I become aware that the UCF student section, which is doing some sort of “blackout” thing, but only in their end zone, is known as the "Knightmare." This tickles me more than it should. Apparently, they can go online and get something called Knightmare rewards.
The Knights lead the Cougars 10-3 at the half. “WHO?” guy is still saying it and he thinks he’s hilarious.
The halftime show is meh, and the people around me seem more interested in watching to see if a majorette drops her baton than paying attention to the marching band. This is not TBDBITL.
THIRD QUARTER
BYU comes out storming and the Knights are turning the ball over. The Cougars go in front 24-10. The stadium seems more disappointed than angry, despite a plethora of dropped passes by receivers that make the Buckeyes’ performance against Virginia Tech seem sure-handed.
To my left is a corner full of BYU fans who somehow manage to drown out the “U-C-F-Knights!” stadium cheer by chanting “B-Y-U-Cougars!” even louder. Somehow.
The Knights get a score to stop the bleeding, and it’s 24-17 after three. “Florida guy” offered to let me tear a hunk off his soft pretzel. I politely declined and thanked him for his generosity.
FOURTH QUARTER
If UCF was a flaming dumpster in the third quarter, that quality has been transferred to the visitors in the final period. BYU is terrible throughout, and the Knights come back to tie the game. The stadium is bouncing. No, literally.
Please do not overstress your erector set of a stadium UCF fans
— Spencer Hall (@edsbs) October 10, 2014
That is not an insult, I am seriously worried about how much that stadium bounces
— Spencer Hall (@edsbs) October 10, 2014
Brighthouse Networks Stadium is made of aluminum. It is shiny and metal, and looks like an oversized high school stadium, unless you’re in Texas—then it’s not oversized. The fans bounce up and down and there is just enough give in the floor below your feet to propel you back up. The entire structure moves and you await the sweet embrace of death with the inevitable collapse that somehow never arrives.
But the seat is hard. All stadium seats are unforgiving, but my ass was asleep by the end of the first quarter. By halftime, my lower back was in agony. In the second half, I stood up and stretched with every television timeout.
The teams did not care. They wanted to play more football. UCF missed a long field goal wide to the left. “WHO?” guy was convinced it went through, but it assuredly did not. The ball obstructed my view of the post as it went past, a sure sign that it was no good.
Bortles appeared on the scoreboard several times. He was loud and obnoxious, but importantly informed the crowd how to cheer for their Knights.
The home side got a final chance. They lined up to kick a winning field goal on third down. “Florida State wife” wondered why. I explained about how they could still fall on the ball and call timeout if the snap was bad, and “Florida guy” backed me up.
It actually happened. I mean, it never happens, but it really did. The snap was bad. The Knights fell on it and called timeout.
“Florida State wife” was duly impressed with my knowledge of strategy. I felt a mixture of smugness and like I’d just taught a child a valuable lesson.
On fourth down, the kick was no good.
Not gonna lie…I wanted the game to be over. I was (correctly) taken to task for this.
OVERTIME
It didn’t take long. UCF scored on its possession and BYU didn’t. Knights win!
It was time to make the long walk back to my car. I said goodbye to those I’d shared the experience with—“Florida guy,” “Florida State wife,” and their daughter, and even “WHO?” guy.
Overall, the experience was friendly, non-threatening, and pleasant. It didn’t feel like Midwestern football or what I expect SEC games are like, though. I enjoyed a good, competitive, back-and-forth game on a nice fall evening, and got a little taste of what it’s like to be a Buckeye abroad, without a dog in the fight.
I’d do it again.
