by EMILY MELTON
Lifestyles Editor

Saturday morning was a good morning. It was a morning to sit back and eat and enjoy good company.
It was a day to listen to good music and have a few good, strong drinks.

And for most everyone in Boone, Saturday was a good day for a football game.

Hours before the gates opened, black and gold shirts and slacks were pulled out of closets and carefully laid on beds, replacing warm, flannel pajamas and cotton sleep shirts.

Die-hards decked themselves in Mardi Gras beads, colorfully striped socks and full out body paint, transforming into masses of black and gold—the ultimate fans, the best-dressed Mountaineers.

Cars lined the streets and tailgating tents were quickly assembled, hosting hoards of families and friends, all filling their plates with burgers, chicken, chips and cookies.

Packs of beer and buckets of hot wings later, anticipation began to grow. Those who swore they’d get front row seats in lieu of our “upcoming win” began leaving their tents and making their way to the gates.

A crowd formed around those gates: the only barrier to the home opener, the first of the season, the start of what Appalachian State University has prided itself upon after the black and gold football bug first came and hit us all.
1:30 p.m. came and the gates opened and the barriers were taken away.

Fans flocked to the stadium, running to the stands, ignoring the shouts of event staff and warnings of police officers.

Concession stands began to welcome customers and the stadium began to fill. Many were excitedly awaiting kickoff, some entering varying levels of drunkenness, while others were hot and sweaty from sitting out in the sun.

The cheerleading team rallied those who sat and waited, and finally, the band made its way to the field, welcoming the crowd with a sounding burst of noise and music and rhythm, trumpets blaring, drums booming.
Everyone was on their feet. Cheering. Beaming. Filled with emotion.

They knew the players would soon run out and the game would start. And we would win. We had to. We’re the Mountaineers!

If you describe this moment to any student at Appalachian, they would know exactly what it feels like: when the football team sprints out of the inflated helmet-shaped tunnel, when gunfire sounds and fireworks and smoke fill the sky, when the band is playing and the cheerleaders are cheering and the crowd can’t look or think about anything else.

In that moment, we are all so proud.

And as the game starts and continues through four 15-minute quarters, our pride usually remains. We’re not exactly accustomed to losing.

But when the clock stopped Saturday, when we realized we lost to a team predicted impossible to win, the small group of bright-blue-clad McNeese fans erupted into wild cheers, screaming at the top of their lungs, hugging their neighbors and calling their friends.

For them, it was like beating Michigan. It was like winning the national championship.

But on the opposite side of the field, there was no cheering. No screaming. No jumping or shouting.

We held our heads low. We crossed our arms, sighed and cursed at the players. I saw grown men and women cry.

Stories were written, headlines were posted, fans went back to their dorms and apartments and small mountain homes. People were re-thinking, over and over, each play, contemplating what could have been done and what should have happened. They pored over which calls were unfair and which calls were missed.

It’s remarkable how much a football game can alter the mood of those who watch.

Take away the gold, and the black could have painted something dark, funeral-esque.

If a psychologist were to analyze its effect, they would probably be able to pick out each stage of grief.

Denial: This isn’t happening to us.

Anger: How could the football team let this happen to us?

Bargaining: If only we could go back, back to that single play...

Depression: We don’t care anymore. We don’t care to celebrate, to go out, to have any kind of fun.

Acceptance: Yes, we lost, but it was only the first game. Perhaps next Saturday will be a better day.

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