Tent Party Soothes The Ticketless Ones
They drove a thousand miles in a rented RV. At least one guy flew in from Louisville, Ky. Others came from nearby Los Angeles, still a harrowing video game of a drive in Rose Bowl traffic.
All these football fans wanted to see the big game. In Pasadena. On a big-screen TV, with a picture that looked about as clear as a computer screen from the 1970s.
“We just wanted to be near,” said Pam Ottinger, who appeared to be drinking watered-down vodka. “We just wanted to feel the love.”
The love was tame, because this turned into the incredible shrinking tailgate after the game started. About 1,000 leftovers, the ticketless people, crowded around the TV screen and listened to booming commercials for Acura and Chili’s restaurant.
The sad Cougar blimp, a faded wrinkled bag, had the air squished out of it. Efficient staff in black pants and white shirts cleaned food off tables like vacuums. Crimson and silver balloons were set free from fences. The bars - if the tiny tents could be called that - were completely out of mixers.
Many, many people drank straight vodka. And they didn’t have a problem with it.
“They don’t call this the No. 1 party school for nothing,” one graduate said.
The party was held on a Brookside Country Club golf course next to the stadium, and the course was trashed. Sand pits were landfills of Styrofoam plates, aluminum cans and leftover pasta surprise.
Fans sat in folding chairs like good kids in a school auditorium, until the Cougars scored. Then they found their game feet. They waved pompons and pumped their arms.
One guy listened to the game on a radio as he watched the screen. Some kids slept. One climbed a tree.
They all had their reasons for being there. “My mom’s a Cougar,” said Stephanie VanderHeyden, 11. “She’s in charge of Washington University because she’s a Kappa.”
Hmmm.
“No she’s not,” corrected her sister, Michelle, who’s only 7. “She’s not in charge.”
Some of the people at the party for the ticketless hoped that maybe they’d eventually find tickets at a cheaper rate than scalpers wanted. They figured prices would drop by the end of the first quarter.
They were slightly pathetic, holding their homemade cardboard signs pleading for help. “Cougar needs Rose Bowl ticket.” “Husky needs Rose Bowl tickets.” “Sonics fan needs Rose Bowl tickets.”
Marc Warrington, who wore a Cougar baseball cap, had never been to WSU. He lives in Louisville, but he flew to Pasadena to see the game on TV. Warrington and pal Drew Fraser leaned back on elbows on a golf green. Each halfheartedly shopped for tickets by holding up one hand with two fingers.
“l feel the market going down,” Warrington said. “I’m looking for $100. How about selling a press pass?”
A quarter later, he’d moved about 30 yards. By this time, he had a chair.
Ottinger wasn’t willing to pay for tickets. But she considered other ways to get into the stadium to see her Cougars.
“I love ‘em,” said Ottinger, who paid $250 to help rent an RV to drive down from Seattle. “I’m dying to see ‘em. But for me, I had to at least be right next to the stadium. I know there’s like a 10-year-old who has a ticket and who’ll never remember this game. So I’m willing to steal that little kid’s ticket.”
She was kidding. Sort of.
, DataTimes ILLUSTRATION: Color photo