Vacations way up in the north country during my youth were enforced that it was to relax, to be in nature, and that TV was not needed. Even at that age I knew that to be false for a myriad of reasons. I was impressionable enough to realize Duluth TV stations cleared all network programming, which meant game shows the Donahues consumed in the Twin Farms. But what else was out there? Anybody get any Canadian stations?
My requests were met with the usual parental dismissing that all starts to feel the same. Whatever quaint feeling there might have been was always nudged a bit when we'd go through a brief walk in the woods and come to the next cabin to the southwest. There, at the edge of the rocks on Superior, stood an earth station. Oh, to know what wonder existed. Even on my usual visits, the TV wasn't on, I was told to not ask about it; just be a good kid and not talk at all.
Over Labor Day weekend '91, however, a drive up there was supported by the radio call of the old "Kickoff Classic" game, figuring this was the last we'd know of sports until return. Our arrival was met with more than the usual multi-hour cocktail party vibe: said neighboring cabin had visitors from western PA. This could mean good or bad news, not sure.
On that Saturday, with boredom setting in, I wandered over. There it was: the remote in hand, the box all lit up. "Hey, we're trying to find the Backyard Brawl!" I don't know what you're talking about, but I'll tell you what I'm seeing: a football game on something called the Sunshine Network. Channels changed, and the dish moved. Wait, that...is that a station in Oklahoma? Don't change the channel. Slow down here, that TBS ad said "Superstation 17."
Eventually, ESPN was found, and there was the game. To me, the outcome was of no consequence. The important thing was what I had suspected: there are games out there. Games I can't reach, but if I only had a conduit to the sky.
At halftime I raced back to our cabin (read: house). I unleashed a stream of knowledge to my father of these wonders in the atmosphere, signals from across the land that brought football goodness and that we were just scratching the surface. He looked at me with his usual combination of "What the fuck are you talking about" and "I don't care." I simply moved on, hurrying to return for the 2nd half.
Fast forward a little over a decade later and with dish / earth station technology improved, here I am again, finding a few things. Hmmm...that gives me an idea. This idea was met. It was then perfected. By the mid-late 00s, I could brave getting up earlier on a Saturday morning in the fall. I'd start the 9AM window with 13 games simultaneously. The volume would ebb and flow, and depending on if Hawaii was at home, it could go all night. Sure, it was the viewing, and gambling, and just the ability. But I wanted weirdo finds. Someone in LA shouldn't be able to watch Houston Baptist home games, let alone do so from the comfort of a TV set. Open that Madria Sangria and don't stop and wonder why the Colorado School of Mines game is on Live TV. So there are maybe, players included, 1000 people there. In November, look at it snowing for Hofstra's breakfast game as you plan your day. Marvel at the SD perfection of Las Cruses' "AggieVision."
But time marched on. More and more conferences started their own networks, making the reach easier and a little less fun. Then, one year, out of fiscal responsibility, I didn't order extra channels. And I was OK with it. And then I'd read of more and more games online, so I'd have those going on in the background. It made sense by going online...it made for an even cheaper look, but it also took less people to do, which in turn meant more games (even if they looked like a high school game from, well, back in 1991).
And here we are now, without a real season, more of a controlled experiment. I lamented this when I was buying my traditional sangria for said viewing, and though the mask I did my best to enunciate that I usually bought this for college football. Now...oh well. "Don't worry, dude. No, there will be college football." The cashier seemed near adamant. He knew why. It was the same reason they were getting paid more during the Spring - though it was hazard pay. It's the almighty dollar, one that will separate the haves from the have-nots in the future of college football.
My love came from the volume of games at the blend of said 2. It was the blend that will return one day. Big schools, small schools, the dollars flowing. I'll be there, watching somehow, feeling like an old buddy has returned to town and it's like he never left. Until then, we drink and reflect on how much has changed. Better? Worse? Maybe...both?
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