My whole life, I’ve always cheered for the Dawgs. From game days at Baxter Street Bookstore to modeling u[sic]GA merchandise as an infant, it is safe to say that I was born and raised to be a u[sic]GA fan.
I have always defined being a true Georgian as synonymous with rooting for u[sic]GA. One could have limited or no knowledge of football, or not have even stepped foot in Athens, and still instantly strike up a conversation with the simple exclamation of “Go Dawgs!”
Last Saturday, however, I found myself chanting the antithesis. Like most first-year students, I became swallowed up by the swarm that is “Welcome Week” and purchased a “Yellow Jacket Pass” that grants admission to all eight Tech home games.
Although my interest in football did not truly begin until a certain popstar’s budding romance with an NFL player, the allure and fixation surrounding football is hardly foreign to me. In high school, it was the entire focus of my campus. Since our team was ranked number seven in Georgia and fifty-five in the nation, it was sometimes hard to distance myself from the infatuation with the sport, though not impossible, as I attended only two games throughout high school. Talking to other first-years at the game, I found that many, including myself, longed for a new start. I bonded with my fellow freshmen over needing something to hold us accountable for having fun and for human interaction, something that would prevent us from spending our Friday nights alone in our dorms studying or being iPad kids.
Walking into a white-and-gold decked Bobby Dodd Stadium was an experience like no other. Hundreds and hundreds of Tech fans, students, staff and alumnus lined the bleachers. The air buzzed — pun intended — with excitement, anticipation, carelessness and fun. All around, students were shaking hands, taking pre-game photos, and socializing. I was touched by the game’s sense of community.
I have found that the sense of community at Tech has been unparallelled. Everyone interacts with everyone. Not a day has gone by when I return to my dorm without getting lunch with a stranger or swapping Instagram handles with a new friend. In that stadium, one could feel a range of emotions, but isolation is not one. Furthermore, this sense of community that I felt amplified as the game went on.
The band’s sound of explosive brass intertwined with the hoots and hollers of the students. For those three hours, every gasp, shout and chant were perfectly synced, like a well-oiled machine. It was as if the stadium shared one mind. Each time the Jackets’ defense stopped the Panthers from scoring, the students erupted in cheers. When the Jackets had possession, the fans held their breath as the ball soared, with hundreds of eyes across the stadium tracking its trajectory. All around me, girls anxiously held their friends’ hands while guys kept their fists close to their chests in anticipation of cheers of triumph or screams of frustration.
Among the Jacket community present in the stands, the students’ individuality was religiously omnipresent. Outfits ranged from white cowgirl boots to gold wigs, Tech sweatshirts to fully painted bodies or RAT caps to Jacket antennas. Some students held signs, some held gold pom poms and others held clear bags full of cameras and snacks. The support for the Jackets extended beyond the physical game to full on lessons. In between each break, students would turn to their friends in the stands to explain the metrics of the game, scores, hand signals or why the entire student section was verbally assaulting the referee. Just in the second quarter, I witnessed two students who had never spoken before erupt in cheers, turn to one another, high five and fist bump. Being at that game felt like being surrounded by best friends, but more in a fraternal way. I, like many first years, entered the game ignorant of the culture of the student section. The only song I had successfully memorized was the “Ramblin’ Wreck” and even that was a little rough.
The chants of my fellow first-years evolved from mumbled words to confident shouts as the game progressed. I gleefully added adlibs with varying profanity to the traditional songs taught at convocation. I learned to “Ooh-Woop!” with the band when it’s first down for the Jackets. I learned to swirl my arm as the commentator roused up the stadium shouting “It’s third down…it’s third down!” Most importantly, however, I learned attending these games goes much deeper than football.
While seated in the very center of the stadium, the Jumbotron offered me a glimpse of the atmosphere beyond the student section. One thing that stood out to me the most was the generations of Jacket fans. It is obvious that every team has a fan base that spans generations, however, it never occurred to me that the fan base culture I align so closely with u[sic]GA football could extend to Tech. The stands held a variety of Jackets fans. When watching the screen, I could not help but feel moved. I wondered: were the boys looking down at the players aspiring to be them one day? Did the girls want to grow up to be scientists and engineers, dressed up in the stands as they watched us? Were the adults reminiscing on their time in our shoes? The possibilities were endless, and they all raced through my mind as the sun set and the stadium became illuminated in white light. In that moment, I felt a part of something bigger than myself.
Being a first-year is an endless cycle of feeling excited, anxious and overwhelmed. Every day is spent wondering if I am doing too much followed by wondering if I am doing too little. It is an incredible accomplishment to get into this exceptional institution, but now what? Do I have what it takes to contribute to something larger than myself? These are things that race through my head constantly. However, at that moment, these thoughts fell away, even if just for a second. In that moment, in that stadium, all I felt was a profound pride for my team, the Institute and my peers.
We are all on different paths in our lives. Some of these students are living on their own, have jobs and internships and have done impressive research, while others have just started their journey and are unsure if they’ve even chosen the right major. Yet, every single one of us decided to come together on a Saturday night, driven by a shared desire for community and fulfillment. At that first game, I learned something very important and something impossible to learn in a lecture. I learned what it truly meant to be a Jacket.