Posted on: Monday, August 30, 2004
ABOUT MEN
Football, the great unifier
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By Peter Boylan
Advertiser Staff Writer
Before this past weekend, I hadn't spoken to my friend Steve in about six months. Nor had I stayed in touch with Brian or Jake. All are friends I met years ago as a 17-year-old hapa-haole kid getting off a plane in Iowa.
But it isn't a big deal. Work, wives, family and girlfriends have conspired to sprinkle us across the country.
Brian lives in Chicago, Jake in New York City and Steve is in Orlando, Fla.
But dudes aren't girls. We don't have to call each other every time we start watching a new Fox drama. We know where each of us is, and sometimes that's enough.
There is, however, a time of year that puts us all back in touch.
Football season. Specifically, Saturday's University of Iowa season opener against Kent State.
Hawkeye football is one thing we will always have in common.
Take last New Year's Eve, for example. I went to the usual round of parties, knowing full well that that Iowa was kicking off at 5:30 a.m., Hawai'i time, on New Year's Day. At about 5 a.m., my cell phone started blowing up.
"BOYLAN!" screamed the voice at the other end.
"Your butt better be out of bed ASAP! The Hawks are on, baby!"
It was Jake, calling from New York. He is also the one who managed to get us all together again last weekend in Iowa City for his wedding.
Minutes after Jake called, Steve called from Florida. "Just wanted to let you know that (his wife), my dad, brother, and I are at the Outback Bowl!" he said over the screaming Hawkeye tailgaters.
Despite the calls, I passed out in the third quarter. Sleep deprivation.
Knowing that might happen, my darling girlfriend made sure to tape the replay that night.
But the fact that I missed the second half aside, that is what football means to some people. Not only is it a great sport, but it is a unifying force, the male answer to the "OC."
When the Hawks are on, I will hear from my college friends throughout the game. Hawkeye football for me isn't merely four quarters and an outcome. It is a weekly reunion.
Inevitably, the cameras will sweep over throngs of students in black and gold, partying hard and huddling around barbecues to stay warm.
When that happens, it seems only yesterday that Brian banged on my door at 6 a.m., telling me to get up for our fraternity's tailgate five hours before kickoff.
"Pedro, if you're not up soon, I am siccing the snake on you," he would say. Brian kept a three-foot python in a cage in our room. I nicknamed it Tavian, after a former Hawkeye tailback.
On Saturday, we all met in Chicago to make the pilgrimage to Iowa City and watch Jake pull the rip cord on life and get married.
But as we talked about our friend's impending demise, one topic dominated:
Why didn't he get married this Saturday so we could take in the Hawks' opener?
Reach Peter Boylan at 535-8110 or pboylan@honoluluadvertiser.com.
