A chilly fall Saturday during college football season. The chili’s in the crockpot, the coffee is poured, and you are strapping in for an 11 o’clock kickoff between Iowa and Rutgers with Beth Mowins on the call. A slate gray sky producing a light drizzle as 29,000 faithful watch their beloved Hawkeyes.
It’s late in the third quarter with Iowa clinging to a 10-7 lead. A series of unimaginative play calls has Iowa staring at 4th and 2 from the Rutgers 34 yard line. Without the slightest hesitation Kirk sends out the punt team. The sparse crowd goes wild, showering the field with dollar bills as a raucous cheer of “one more year!”echoes through out the half empty stadium. Iowa will find a way to scratch out this win in route to wrapping up another 7-5 season prompting a four-year contract extension for Kirk.
Fast forward to the present. I’m driving on Interstate 80 to a friends house in Waukee Iowa just after 11 AM listening to the Husker pregame show on AM 590 radio. Initially, I wanted to write a heart warming story about the Hawkeye fans waving to the kids at the Children’s Hospital during their home games, but the deeper I drove into enemy territory the more this thought entered my head. The Hawkeye football program reminds me of whenever I open my Tinder app in the greater Des Moines area. As each potential candidate pops up, I find myself constantly dipping my head to the side saying “ehh” Not bad but not great either. Basically, if 7-5 was a state it would be Iowa.
Let me paint you a picture. It’s late Friday night in Waukee, I am finishing off a 12 pack of Busch light from Casey’s, and begin scrolling through Tinder. Through squinted eyes and an elevated blood alcohol content I swipe right on this 36 year-old from Fort Dodge. Boom it’s a match! After a series of what do you like to do for fun messages spanning 2 days, you decide to meet at Applebee’s for happy hour drinks and endless appetizers.
We agree to meet at 8 so I throw on some Buckle jeans with a button down and head out. I’m still a little giddy after watching Nebraska get Coach Frost his first win so I decide to arrive a little early. The hostess seats me where I can watch the Purdue vs Ohio State game when I see Deborah walk in sporting a Hawkeyes sweat shirt. After shaking my head and muttering “Christ”, I walk over to greet her as a true Nebraska man would.
The meal was less than memorable as you would expect from Applebee’s but they did have a beer they called Hawktoberfest that intrigued me. I inquired about the taste and the waitress said, “ehh, it’s not bad.” Even their beer is 7-5. The dinner conversation between Deborah and I is going pretty well. She’s throwing out some over the top sexual innuendos and invites me back to her place.
It’s about a 15 minute drive to her 3 bedroom ranch which allowed me to catch a few minutes of Big Red Overreaction. By the way, I am a complete gentleman and this is something I never do. Deborah and I settle in on the couch and after a few minutes of discussing how great I think Adrian Martinez will be, Deborah leans in for a kiss. Even though it’s not in my nature to move this fast, I meet her half-way for a sensual locking of the lips.
I feel a slight tingle and say to myself, “It’s 4th and 2 and you are in scoring position.” I was born and raised in Nebraska, lived through the Husker glory years, and am accustomed to greatness. We play with no fear of failure and take chances. I’m definitely going for it! However, Deborah is from Iowa. She grew up with empty trophy cases and years of mediocrity. It’s 4th and 2 for Deborah and without hesitation she punts. We end up watching Double Impact on Netflix and I leave with a hug and thanks for dinner.
The moral of the story is this. Iowa football will always swipe left on a chance at greatness.