Page 14 of Tangled with the Tight End

“This is nice,” I say, scanning the large arena and the crowd of people waiting to get in.

We drove in past an area where people have trucks and trailers parked in the lot. Hatches are open. Some have canopies up. Tailgaters, Cass told me. They come early and have a barbecue right in the parking lot. I can think of nicer settings for a barbecue, but as I’m coming to learn, football and everything that goes along with it makes little to no sense.

The wide entrance to the stadium has the words Tennessee Thunder over it. We scan our tickets on our phones at the turnstiles and then pass through a bag search. We’re seated in a lower section to the left of the goalposts.

I expect the game to start right after we’re seated, but the players scatter around the field. Loud music plays throughout the stadium. Some workers come out and paint over the already painted lines while football players kick and throw balls, stretch, and move around in groups.

I turn to Cass. “What’s going on?”

“It’s the pregame warm-up.”

“Shouldn’t they do that before we get here?” I ask.

She just chuckles and asks me if I want to get some food.

She knows me well.

We walk up to the concession stand, and after a long line and paying prices that make me happy I’m now Winona for Hire, we’re back in our seats with hot salted pretzels, nachos and a hot dog each.

The stands fill with more people.

There’s a lot of action on the field and then more workers come out, clearing the balls and training equipment. The players run off the field.

“Where are they going?” I ask.

“They’re going to the locker room. They’ll be back,” Cass answers me.

“Thanks for being patient with all my questions,” I tell her.

“I’m just glad you’re giving this a chance.”

I take another bite of my hot dog, wiping my face with a paper napkin right away.

“This …” I hold my hot dog up in the air, “... I can get behind.”

She smiles. She knows I’m mainly here for the food and time with friends.

The cheerleaders and drummers come onto the field. Their routine fills the stands with energy, and I’m alternating between dancing in my seat along to the music and dipping nachos into cheese sauce. I hum with satisfaction around my bite.

“Good nachos?” Emberleigh asks me.

“It’s a good day. And, yes. Nachos, a stiff folding seat, loud music blaring, and all of us here … I don’t think it gets better than this.”

The giant screens over the field start flashing “Tennessee … Thunder … Tennessee … Thunder!” and then the crowd starts shouting the words as they alternate.

I barely notice that the cheerleaders have left the field when a burst of smoke and flash of light come from in front of a tunnel. And then, the Thunder is announced over the loudspeaker and men start running out through the smoke onto the field.

“Fireworks?” I ask Cass, my eyes wide and my smile even wider.

“Yes,” she smiles back. “Football isn’t so bad now, is it?”

“I never said it was bad,” I defend as more players run out with a second pop of pyrotechnics and a deafening roar of the crowd.

I could get used to football.

They haven’t called anyone by name, but Declan’s name is announced, “Declan O’Connell! MVP of last year’s Thunder team!”

Our group goes wild. I join them, shouting for the man I literally bumped into at the deli last week. He runs onto the field from the tunnel, emerging through the cloud of smoke, raising his hands and looking around at the fans before sprinting through the double line of his teammates, giving them high fives, but down low. Low fives? … and taking his place at the end of the lineup.