Tailgating’s where it’s at
Matt Pilgrim and his buddies set up shop every fall in a parking lot not far from Georgia’s Sanford Stadium.
There’s a 35-inch television with SurroundSound, balanced on a specially built rack in the back of a mammoth SUV. There’s a large grill that sizzles up the sweet aroma of hot dogs, hamburgers and bratwurst. There’s an ample supply of beverages — usually Bud Light — to wash it all down.
“A lot of times, if I don’t have a ticket, I just stay outside,” Pilgrim said. “The experience of being down there is usually as much fun as the game itself.”
Welcome to Tailgate City, as much a part of college football as the Heisman Trophy and grumbling about the bowl system.
From Mississippi — where women in formal dresses and men wearing ties congregate at the “Grove” — to Washington — where fans can party on boats docked near the stadium — this has become the country’s giant backyard. Friendships are renewed. Stories are swapped. And gargantuan amounts of food and drink are consumed.
The game, it seems, has almost become a sidelight, nothing more than a reason to get together for some tailgating outside the stadium.
“A lot of people I see tailgating are people I only see during football season,” Pilgrim said. “They are my tailgating friends. What we like to do is put a cold beer in a coozie, go for a walk and see what the other guys have got to eat. We taste a little of this, a little of that. We ask them where they came from, how’d they get there. I like meeting people.”
While no one is quite sure how this uniquely American phenomenon got started, tailgating has taken on a life of its own. Corporations now set up tents with lavishly catered meals for some of their biggest clients, winning them over before the game even begins. Numerous Web sites have sprouted up, selling products that supposedly enhance the tailgating experience.
Come on, how can you enjoy the game without a barbecue grilling iron that brands chicken, steaks or pork chops with the logo of your favorite team?
One man has even turned tailgating into a lifestyle.
After Joe Cahn sold the New Orleans School of Cooking in 1996, he hit the road in his RV. While that doesn’t sound so unusual, he veers off course from most retirees by spending the bulk of his time in stadium parking lots around the country.
The game is unimportant to the self-proclaimed “Commissioner of Tailgating.”
“Up until about two years ago, I didn’t know there was a game after the tailgate,” Cahn quipped. “I just thought everyone was going to the bathroom.”
This tradition is only as old as the automobile — the name comes from picnics being served out of the tailgate of a vehicle — but that time frame neatly coincides with college football’s burst of popularity around the turn of the century.
These days, the parties are much bigger but the concept remains essentially unchanged, a rowdy throwback to a different time.
“It’s my belief that tailgating is the last great American neighborhood,” Cahn said. “This is a day and age where we don’t pick up the phone without checking caller I.D. This is a day and age where we don’t even call people anymore; we e-mail them. We don’t have socialization in our neighborhoods, where we walk around and talk to total strangers.
“When you’re tailgating, you get to walk through thousands of backyards with no privacy fences. You can say hello to people, they’ll say hello back — and really mean it.”
No two parties are exactly the same. Some are thoroughly unique, such as Seattle’s Husky Stadium, where the party takes place on nearby Lake Washington. Hundreds of boats are lashed together, and a few revelers even drop in via seaplane.
Ole Miss provides another special setting. The Grove covers 10 acres in the center of campus, shaded by giant oak trees (hence the name) and packed on game days with students wearing their Sunday best and tailgaters who opt for decorum over decadence. These are people who know how to party properly, always with extreme reverence for the annual rite of autumn.
Before Eli Manning, the Grove was about the only compelling reason to attend a Rebels game. Even now, some fans grumble that too many seats inside the stadium are empty at kickoff because their holders chose to linger in the tranquil setting.
Tailgating received the ultimate sign of social acceptance a few years ago: a university study.
Stephen Ross, an assistant professor in Minnesota’s Division of Recreation and Sports Studies, found that tailgating can be downright addictive — and it’s got nothing to do with all the alcohol consumed.
“Once people start doing it, it’s very hard to stop,” he said. “They continue to do it, and continue to do it for a very long time. We found a fairly substantial number, maybe a quarter of the people, who had been doing it for 20-plus years.”
Cahn singles out the Southeastern Conference and Big Ten as the best leagues for tailgating.
Tailgating cuisine depends on where the party is being held. At Georgia, it’s grits and fried chicken. At Tennessee, there’s always plenty of barbecue. At Texas, huge smokers are used to cook up entire sides of beef. At Washington, that’s salmon on the grill.
Well, another college football season is almost here. Get out the grill, stock up the cooler and let the party begin.