The Square Life

This past weekend I took my six-year-old nephew Dylan to the BYU game against New Mexico. Boy am I thankful I did. Otherwise, I would have had to watch one really crappy game.  

I have been very caught up in the hype surrounding BYU Football this year. I am constantly looking for more info on the team, scouring over the internet to see what the national media is saying (or not saying). Needless to say, I’m obsessed at this point. Every game is tremendously important. Every down is an opportunity to give BYU some credibility. This is how I see things this year. So when BYU faced New Mexico this past weekend, I expected a blowout. No, I needed a blowout.  

The game was anything but that. In fact, there were times during the game when it seemed possible that we might lose. If the Cougars were hoping to impress anyone, they didn’t exactly bring their “A” game. Not only was the fact that it was a close game a bad sign, but the brand of football played this past Saturday was as boring as it gets. Lethargic, humdrum, bland: take your pick of boring adjectives. And this is why it’s a good thing I brought my nephew.  

The reason I ended up taking my nephew Dylan was that my father-in-law ditched me to sit in the pretty-boy suites. I thought it would be a fun experience for Dylan, and since I don’t see him too often, it would be a fun activity for the both of us. Plus, Dylan’s father is a Utah Ute fan, and I saw an opportunity to help an innocent child see the light. I had one goal: to convince Dylan that BYU was cool.  

If I had come with one of my old college roommates or my father-in-law, I would have been downright crabby. We would have been dissecting just how crappy the game was minute by minute. We would have convinced ourselves that BYU didn’t deserve to be in the top ten, and frankly, we would have been miserable in the surprisingly cold bleachers. But nope, I went with Dylan, and that made all the difference. Here’s how it went.  

(Note: If you don’t like kids, you won’t like this article. Sorry, I should have told you earlier, but I forgot to.)  

As we drove down from Sandy to go to the game, the excitement Dylan had was contagious. It was an innocent excitement; an excitement I lost a long time ago. By the time we were in Lehi, he was actively searching for the “Y” on the mountain. While the rest of us were worrying about the pregame traffic, Dylan was enjoying the scenery.  

When we finally pulled up to our parking spot at the Chevron across from the stadium, Dylan was buzzing with excitement. He said something about how there were “like 200 hundred people” around us walking to the game, and then asked me how many people would be at the game. I told him 60,000, and I might as well have told him dinosaurs were going to be there, from the look on his face. The kid was mesmerized by this number, which apparently hasn’t counted up to yet. His eyes were frantically bouncing around trying to take in the stadium and crowds. Game or not, this was fun for him.  

When we got through into the stadium, the first thing he saw was food. We went and got a hot dog and soda. Simple enough, right? Well, apparently wrong. With two gloves that were a little too big, Dylan needed help with the hot dog and soda, leaving me to carry a blanket, two large sodas, two hot dogs, and his hat that he didn’t want to wear right then. Then we had to get condiments on the hot dogs, and meanwhile, he kept trying to go look at other things, so I had to hold onto his hand.   

And then there were the questions: I am amazed by how many questions a six-year-old can have. Grabbing his hand, carrying all the food, blanket, and random articles of clothing Dylan wasn’t in the mood for, and answering a vast array of questions, all the while trying to make my way through the enormous crowd, turned out to be  more daunting than I thought possible. By the time we got to our seats, I felt like I had accomplished something truly great. “Sure, BYU is in the top ten, but look at what I just accomplished!” I thought to myself as we settled into our seats.  

Even the usual boring pregame stuff was different. Dylan was blown away by the marching band, and the colorful big screens, and all the people, and don’t even get me started about Cosmo. I never before realized how brilliantly showcased a football game is for children. It’s like a well-orchestrated Pixar movie. Between helping Dylan find Cosmo, and answering his never-ending questions, I forgot why we were there in the first place.   

We sat in the student section, which means that everybody around us was standing. I didn’t really think about this until we got there. Dylan is six. Therefore, in order for him to see anything, he had to stand on the bleacher seats. Even then, it was a stretch.

What ended up happening was that Dylan wanted to stand and see everything, but he also wanted to eat his food one bite at a time, except he needed help getting up and down the bleachers to get to his food. In other words, while the miserable first half was going on, I was lifting Dylan up and down the bleacher seats every twenty seconds, taking the hot dog out of the wrapper and putting it back in every two minutes, helping him with his drink every forty seconds, answering his five questions every thirty seconds, and trying to explain to him why the guy in front of us was so mad.   

Dylan did care about the game, even though that may sound unlikely. Within minutes he was calling New Mexico the “bad guys,” and by the end of the game, nobody knew the fight song better than Dylan. But like all six-year-olds, Dylan’s attention span was always in question, especially given the array of things going on around him.  

While BYU was playing possibly their worst game of the year, I was too distracted to so much as get a “Nice throw, Hall!” jab in. But this is a good thing. By the time halftime came around, and many people around us were convincing themselves the “Quest” was a dead end, I was too distracted to care. And, I was a perfectly sane person, thanks to Dylan.  

Without going into every detail, just know that the halftime show was really fun for Dylan . . . for the first few minutes. Then he wanted to change the channel. And, thanks to some numbskull a couple rows ahead of us eating gobstoppers, the idea of candy entered Dylan’s mind, never again to be replaced by anything . . . ever.  

It took me awhile to convince Dylan that getting candy at the gas station after the game was the way to go, and by that time it was the third quarter, and Dylan had to go to the bathroom. You get the idea: long, arduous process that I was completely unprepared for.  

By the time the fourth quarter came around, and it was apparent that BYU wasn’t going to do any better, the crowd around us starting getting moody. The fact was, even though it was a relatively short game, it felt a whole lot longer. It was cold, and boring. Our offense looked mediocre at best. And Dylan’s excitement was obviously waning.   

With about six minutes remaining in the game, Dylan started asking how much longer we had. I pointed to the clock and said, “When that hits zero, the game is over.” For the rest of the game, Dylan’s eyes were peeled to the scoreboard clock. With about three minutes remaining, BYU made an impressive drive down the field to the delight of the crowd. And every time we cheered on an impressive play, Dylan thought we were cheering about the dwindling clock. “Three minutes! Three Minutes!” he yelled in delight while the rest of us celebrated a nice completion. Every time after that the crowd celebrated, Dylan would look at the clock and chant whatever number of minutes remained until he got his candy.   

When we got to one minute, he was doing the patented Dylan Countdown Dance. It’s a pretty cool dance where you hold up as many fingers as minutes remain, all the way bouncing your head and giggling. So, as the final minutes passed, and people around me were talking about the negative repercussions of the game, I was laughing with my nephew while he celebrated in oblivion.  

This is why, as worrisome as the game left most BYU fans, I am in good spirits. I like to think that taking Dylan to the game was a symbol of the game. See, Dylan lives in Idaho, so his coming was a one time thing. Hopefully, BYU struggling for four quarters was a one time thing. Sometimes small victories lead to big victories. My managing to take a six-year-old to a football game without incident isn’t much, but I was learning a few things about parenting. BYU beating New Mexico wasn’t much, but it hopefully led to some learning opportunities that will help later this year.  

And even if “The Quest” is a dead end, and even if Saturday’s game wasn’t an aberration, there is hope. If this whole season ends up being a flop, by the end of the season I can do the Dylan Countdown Dance. And if you’re interested, I’ll teach to you too. It’s a pretty fun dance.  

One last thing. Even though the game was boring as boring gets, and even though Dylan wanted to leave early, I’m still confident in saying that Dylan thinks BYU is cool now. What more can I ask for? (Other than that his dad's team get killed on November 22nd)