It’s Fun to HATE
Account from a Vanderbilt Student on October 25th.
If you follow Vanderbilt sports, you know the pure surge of joy that radiated off this campus the night of October 5th. You remember the procession of students that carried the goalpost like it was the holy crucifix. You commemorate the time when you could look at your fellow Commodore, half-shitfaced on Broadway, and yell, “WE BEAT BAMA.” 480 hours later, it still doesn’t feel real.
Yes, Vanderbilt is now a football school. The passion our students have for the ole’ pigskin is truly inspirational. We care. Could this have been our downfall?
There was a palpable sense of excitement in the heart of every student as they awaited to claim their ticket for the upcoming Texas v. Vandy football game. Then, Tuesday, October 22nd, the dreaded email dropped: NEW STUDENT TICKET AND ENTRY PROCESS FOR VANDERBILT FOOTBALL VS TEXAS! Campus broke into anarchy.
The rat race to claim those coveted tickets began, like a sick version of Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. Disdain for students who could claim their tickets early boiled — which is so unfair to HOD majors. Finally, on October 25th at 10:00 am, hoards of students flooded the queue. Swiftie Ticketmaster sales got nothing on Vandy.
Every student held their breath as they watched the sad little stick figure guy float across the green bar like a sad procession line. Eyes glued to the screen, students waited for the moment they could take what was owed to them. Then it ended as quickly as it began…
“10:08 AM CT: All student tickets have been claimed for the Texas football game.”
We all face tragedies in life: a parent falls ill, we lose a friend, our pet dies, but nothing hurts more than not getting a ticket to the Vandy v. Texas game. There’s a hole in my heart in the shape of an Apple wallet ticket.
Then, GroupMe messages appeared, illuminating my phone like firecrackers: “I’m selling my ticket for $100”, “FOOTBALL TICKET $350,” “DM me for ticket <3.” These crafty salesmen came in like tigers ready to pounce on their prey. Such a tacky display of capitalism would have made even Cornelius Vanderbilt proud. Amid these back-door deals and grief counseling, something well-known to Vanderbilt Football was in the air that day: detestation. We hated. Everyone saw it coming, especially me. When push comes to shove, I will throw a motherfucker in the dirt if it means I can plant my ass in section P and part of Q.
So wherever you are tomorrow at 3:15 pm, remember to hate—I heard it does wonders for the skin. Whether it’s Texas or the dumbass in your 9:05 am class that got a ticket before you, I implore you to be petty. Anchor down!
