Even behind the wheel of my rental car, I could feel the excitement building outside. Exiting the Interstate and proceeding down a main thoroughfare, the traffic thickened. Turning in a small neighborhood of homes, all of a sudden I was surrounded by small souvenir and food stands, set up temporarily just for the day. Local residents waved flags, inviting anyone with a car and 30 bucks to park in their driveway.
An American Tradition
Most had traveled thousands of miles and were decked out in their team’s very different colors: either Iowa’s black and Hawkeye gold, or Tennessee’s radiant orange and white. Kids sat to have their faces painted, and the brave lined up to ride the mechanical bull or take a try at the zip line. Soon, we would all—by the thousands—head inside and fill the stands.In some ways, for both teams that would take the field that day—and also for their fans—the entire year had built to this very point. But ultimately, what was the significance of this New Year’s Day game? In the end, almost nothing.
And, really, that’s the beauty of a bowl game. This past December and January, a total of 43 NCAA Division I FBS bowl games were played across the United States, most of them in domed stadiums or in warmer climates. A couple—the Sugar Bowl, in New Orleans, and the Rose Bowl, in California—served as semifinals for the College Football Playoff (CFP).
But for most of the teams, playing in a bowl is a modest honor, a way to finish the year with a win and a nice, shiny trophy. An honor that will take you through the offseason with pride. For their fans, it’s a chance to gather and enjoy the passion and pageantry one more time. To cheer and sing the alma mater—hopefully somewhere under the sun—before settling in back home for a long winter without football.
And while their significance, on paper, has diminished in the modern era of playoffs and national championships, bowls are indeed a great American tradition. The very first one, which pitted a team from the east versus one from the west, was played in California and sponsored by the Tournament of Roses in 1902. It wasn’t much of a game, as it turned out: Michigan thumped Stanford by a score of 49-0.
In 1923, the annual contest was moved to a new and beautiful stadium in Pasadena, and renamed the Rose Bowl Game. A tradition was born. Seeing its popularity and seeking to similarly attract tourism income, other sunny cities founded their own “bowls.” They grew by the dozen.
Even today, bowl games are played weeks after the conclusion of the regular season. Now, teams take that time to practice and allow injured players to recover. Originally, however, the gap gave fans time to drive or take the train to the game, in an era before the conveniences of modern air travel.
Celebrating the Citrus Bowl
When I was younger, with the snow falling and the gloom impenetrable outside, I would sit by the hour and marvel at the beautiful weather on my TV. Who were all these fans cheering from the stands in Charlotte for the Meinke Car Care Bowl? While watching the PappaJohns.com Bowl in Birmingham, I enjoyed learning a little more about the Pirates of East Carolina University and the Bulls of South Florida, two teams—and schools—I knew nothing about. Generally, I’d choose one team to root for. There’s a certain unique pleasure in watching a game where the stakes are low and you don’t really care who wins.
That was the case with my recent visit to the Citrus Bowl. Originally known as the Tangerine Bowl, it is a historic game, one played continuously since 1947. Inside Orlando’s Camping World Stadium, I took my seat on the 20-yard line and enjoyed the whole spectacle.
Throughout the game, the Hawkeye Marching Band and Tennessee’s Pride of the Southland Band competed, filling the stadium with the sound of horns and drums. Cheerleaders cheered and did some impressive flips in support of their team. At one point, Iowa’s fan section all waved, a tradition at their home field—a children’s hospital overlooks the 70,000 that gather every Saturday at Kinnick Stadium, and at the end of the first quarter, everyone turns to greet the paediatric patients and their families, watching out the windows.
Was this year’s Citrus Bowl a good game? It was not. The Volunteers of the University of Tennessee rolled easily to a 35-0 victory over the Hawkeyes of Iowa. Was it a great time? Absolutely yes.
I had a beer and a hot dog and chatted with the people around me, some of whom were heartily encouraging family members playing on the field. I thought about all those viewers in frozen climates who were watching this sunny game, just like I did all those years ago, from their couches up north. I enjoyed the traditions and history, learning more about each school.
