Sasquatch Over Apple Cup
The aftermath of the Apple Cup seems like a good place to start my blog. First of all, I love the Huskies. No, I didn't go to UW — didn't get in. A learning difference and undiagnosed ADD probably limited what I was capable of with regards to GPA and SAT scores. Still, I found myself at 100 miles outside of Seattle at a smaller public university with a compass direction in its official name, but since their version of football was basically a club sport, I kept my loyalty.
Lots of memories growing up by the University of Washington — hustling my parents' driveway as a parking spot to occasionally drunk Husky fans, the calm leadership of Don "Dawg Father" James through most of my childhood, witnessing the stadium roof collapse in 1987, the injustice of having to share the only national championship with Miami in 1991.
Safe to say watching Husky football is just going to be part of my life, the way the seasons change. And tailgating during the Apple Cup, even if UW and WSU are now in different leagues, will always be a weekend treat. On Sunday morning, as a middle-aged man, I had a beer in my hand before 11am at a friend's tailgate. I checked in with friends and made a few more, including a few Cougar supporters who I had to razz a bit. The sun was out. I didn't have tickets, but could easily have watched the game somewhere... and didn't watch a second of it.
Was it because I was drunk? Well, I probably was a little over the legal driving limit, and did walk home, but any IPAs were being blunted by another bratwurst from the grill. Was it because the game was an almost guaranteed blow-out? No — they have enough gimmicks even on TV to keep even the most weak-minded engaged till at least halftime.
What made me lose all interest in anything football-related was encountering an acquaintance who'd been camping this summer and had what could have been a legitimate Sasquatch encounter. I wanted to hear the story from start to finish so I could interrogate it at every level — mentally stress-testing it the way the Catholic Church investigates a miracle before they give it the papal stamp of approval.
Later on I did take my wife out for wings and passively saw the 24-10, but I had other things on my mind.
I'll admit, I'm skeptical about most cryptids, I think the Chupacabra is probably a coyote with mange — but ever since I was a kid, I've wanted to believe there was a Bigfoot out there in the woods, just waiting for me to find him. As a boy I checked out every book about him at the library, and I've watched probably every forensic analysis of the Patterson-Gimlin film that exists. Also, I know that if I weren't married, I'd probably actually go "squatching" — the hobby that involves everything from simulated mating calls to thermal cameras, and purportedly wipes out most spousal relationships unless both partners are onboard.
So yeah — a semi-authentic Sasquatch encounter pulled me away from any loyalty to actually watching the Apple Cup.
