My first vivid sports memory is sitting next to my father at a Richmond Spiders home basketball game, probably close to 25 years ago. I distinctly remember a player for the other team appearing to walk, and all of the Richmond fans standing up and making the traveling signal. The ref did not make the call.
And I remember being completely amazed that thousands of fans could, in unison, make a call that the ref did not see. What a terrible ref, I thought. That is my first sports memory. A traveling no-call.
Anyway, my editors were kind enough to let me attend Friday night’s FCS championship game at Finley Stadium. I wanted to see if my hometown school could win its first championship in any sport, ever. All season I’ve sat next to David Paschall at football games and kept up with the Spiders on my laptop, and he genuinely pretended to care when I updated the score. Sometimes, I thought he actually did care.
Here’s my recap of the event:
6:45 p.m.: We arrive at beautiful Finley Stadium, which always seems so impressive when more than 74 people are in the stands. I’m with my friend Seth, a North Carolina State grad who is sporting a cut above his eye that required 15 stitches. In completely related news, Seth celebrated his 30th birthday earlier in the week. His hidden drink is confiscated by security when we try to enter the stadium. We’re off to an A-plus start.
We’re also with my buddy Ryan, who is known to everyone as “PP.” The story behind his nickname is wildly disappointing, but I do remember him visiting friends in college when he was still in high school and saying, “I cannot wait to get here so no one calls me PP anymore.”
Eleven years later, my phone rings. It comes up as “PP.” He’s ready to leave.
8 p.m.: We all agree that Finley Stadium is a wonderful venue for this game, particularly how the pavilion leads right into the stadium. We meet a lot of Chattanooga residents with no rooting interest who just wanted to see the championship game.
You have to admit — with Richmond being such a tiny school (enrollment is like 3,000), Montana being eleventy billion miles away, the economy being not-awesome and the game so close to Christmas, the attendance is pretty good.
8:12 p.m.: “Seriously, this stadium is mainly for UTC football?” PP asks. You won’t find that in the UTC media guide: “No seriously, that’s our stadium!”
8:20 p.m.: I know it will be forgotten because Richmond dominated the game, but Montana’s Marc Mariani makes the greatest catch I’ve seen all season, extending his body and reaching to grab a 47-yard pass from Cole Bergquist. I praise him through clinched teeth.
8:23 p.m.: The Montana crowd is outstanding. They’re loud, enthusiastic and very well represented. I didn’t even realize that many people lived in Montana. For some reason, I keep imagining the one person left in the state riding around on a horse through people’s yards and screaming at the top of his lungs.
9:16 p.m.: OK, one complaint about Finley: The videoboard is way, way, way too small. It’s showing trivia questions and NCAA records, and I can barely read any of it. And I’m sitting on the 40-yard line closest to the scoreboard side. Also, I’m not the one with cuts all around my eyes.
9:28 p.m.: This game is pretty much over. No one can block Richmond defensive end Lawrence Sidbury. He’s unleashing more spins than a Tilt-A-Whirl. A scout says Sidbury will be a sixth-round NFL pick. Also, Montana’s receivers can’t get open. I can’t believe this game is such a mismatch. “I’m pulling for Montana now. This is sad,” Seth says.
10:39 p.m.: There’s a questionable pass-interference call. I use a telescope to see the replay on the videoboard.
11:10 p.m.: Now this is why I love college sports. Richmond fans are crowding around the stage for the championship presentation after the 24-7 win. I see several people crying. College teams are always so much more personal to people. This is the first title for the school, ever. Imagine being a lifelong Richmond supporter.
“This has been a long time coming, relative to forever,” one Richmond player says. Somewhere, Nick Saban approves of using the word “relative” in a sentence.
Another Richmond player looks up at Mike London and repeats “First-year coach!” over and over. Nobody wants to leave, nobody wants to walk away from this moment. These players will be remembered forever in Richmond lore.
11:24 p.m.: Hey, it’s our own Mark Wiedmer on the field! He’s done writing. He’s holding his notebook, a pen and a half-empty bottle of Jose Cuervo. He takes a huge swig, slams the bottle down and says, “I’m outta here.”
11:25 p.m.: Nothing I wrote a minute ago is true.
11:30 p.m.: And we’re done. I saw my hometown school win the national championship. What a memory. Certainly a lot better than a traveling no-call.
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