Dropping into Folsom Field for a glimpse of the Buffs – The Denver Post
EDITOR’S NOTE: This is the first in a series of personal essays detailing how members of The Denver Post sports staff fell in love with sports.
I am 9 years old, and this is the biggest group of people I have ever seen. I just walked through the south portal into Folsom Field, because the gate attendant said I could for a couple of plays.
My family made the trek from Fort Collins to Boulder for homecoming, 10 years after my mom graduated from CU in 1957. The Buffs are playing Oklahoma State, and No. 31 just soared, and the crowd just roared. But All-America safety Dick Anderson is unable to come down with the ball for an interception, and about 50,000 fans groan almost as loudly as they yelled.
I would love to disappear into the crowd and watch the rest of the game, but the gate attendant — and my parents, and my younger brothers — probably wouldn’t appreciate it.
I watch the CU student section. They are loud. They have long hair. They are crazy, and they are having such a good time. It would be fun to be one of them.
I see the CU marching band. Wouldn’t it be cool to be one of those musicians during games, playing “Glory” and “Fight”?
I look up to my left at the press box. Wouldn’t it be great to watch a game from there someday? Those guys are so lucky.
It’s time to go. I find out later that the No. 3-ranked Buffs lost their first game of the season after winning their first five.
But I want to come back. I want to do all those things.
I am 9 years old, and I am hooked on sports for life.