>A couple weeks ago the University of Montana Grizzlies played for the National Championship in whatever division it is that they compete in. If you are from Missoula you already know this, because the stinkin’ “Griz” are pretty much unavoidable all year ’round, and most irritatingly so from about August until December. I’m no fan. Quite the opposite, if fact: I root against them all year. It isn’t really a hatred that moves me, it is more a good-natured curmudgeonliness. I am eternally sick of “Go Griz!” signs and “Griz Nation” and all that shit. Don’t get me started on “Merry Grizmas!” either. I figure if they start losing regularly, the number of fans will rapidly disappear and reader boards can go back to displaying other, more amusing slogans. Like that wackadoo church on Reserve that always has such sanctimonious BS displayed, my favorite being when it said Don’t Wait to Come in a Box. Think about that statement a moment. I know it’s about needing to “get saved” before you die, but it seems to mean something entirely different if you ask me.
When the Griz advanced to the final game, though, I thought maybe I’d cheer them on. They had made it so far, and Missoula would be so thrilled with their victory, that I thought, “what the hell.” They earned my support, after all. Julia was on board too. I think she actually does hate the Griz, though, but it is for a very specific reason. She can’t abide their maroon uniforms because it is a color she doesn’t look good in. If they still had the old school, burnt orange (or whatever you call it) colors, she could get down with it. But maroon? Hell no. In the following image (by Jerek Wolcott of montanagrizzlies.com), we have the new color on the left, and the old color on the right (and these two kids, in an image from the title game, are clearly thinking, “Mom and Dad forked out $1400/ea for a charter flight and tickets to the game for this?!”); I’m partial to the old school flavor myself.
We went to the Wilma Theater to watch the big game. It was actually pretty cool seeing it on the big screen, and the digital picture was crystal clear. Spirits were high at the start, and it was like being at a real game because it was really friggin’ cold in there. Not only that, but we ended up in a section of 20-somethings who were well liquored up before they even arrived, so our section was pretty raucous.
Even though the Griz got their asses royally kicked, we had a great time because of the guy in front of us. This guy was Griz fan numero uno. Screaming, hollering, jumping up and down, yelling obscenities at the screen, spilling beer, etc. At least until the Griz started getting their asses kicked, after which he resorted to playing some game on his cell phone. Even then, if people started cheering, every now and then he’d raise his fist and “Whooo!” without looking up from his gaming. This little video gives you a taste of what was being displayed about 2 feet in front of our faces every time the guy stood up and raised his arms:
It was hilarious. I know the video is dark, but we were dying. A group of women sat down behind us and immediately got an eyeful as well, much to their Coco and Rue shopping chagrins. I didn’t even get video of the most powerful displays — a couple were simply majestic.
Ass cracks are eternally funny, aren’t they? Here’s another video after the Grizzlies scored their only touchdown. If you are wondering what the hell I am filming, there was some big cowboy guy throwing twinkies into the crowd, but it’s too dark to see on the video; I was shooting with my camera, not an actual video camera.
Yes, that is Julia cackling and demanding, “Show it!”
We enjoyed the game. And deep down I was sad to see the Grizzlies lose.
But not that sad.