#6 Doak Campbell Stadium, Florida State

Final Score 45.5

We return South for the next installment of the Stadium Countdown.  Some good distance separates Florida State and Michigan State in our highly sophisticated algorithmic ranking equation.  Not surprising that the Tallahassee sun would score higher than East Lansing and the rest of the previously ranked Midwest destinations.  

There are no lack of spots to hunker down and enjoy yourself outside of Bobby Bowden Field at Doak Campbell Stadium.  The surrounding lots and fields all cater to quality, unencumbered tailgating amidst the throng.  From personal experience, the reception among FSU fans in 1994 (played in Orlando, so not true Tallahassee hospitality) and 2002 was markedly different.  The Orlando crowd was hostile and unwelcoming, which may be attributable to FSU being at the height of their program's arrogance and a bitter hangover effect from the loss dealt them in the 1993 version of the Game of the Century.  (Though there really is no excuse for being spit at).  The FSU faithful could not have been nicer to us, both around the sprawl of RVs we rocked in the lots, as well as in and around the stadium.  I still fondly recall walking out of the stadium, chest puffed a little after the whooping Tyrone administered (his first and only respectable road whooping).  A dejected elder man looked at me, contemplated the beer in his hand, then thrust the bottle in my gut like we were running an off-tackle dive.  "There's your victory beer."  Perfectly played by a proud and generous fan expressing his disappointment.  

Back to the game experience itself, there's some pretty good spectacle to enjoy in the Doak, centered around the pre-game ceremonial flaming spear thrown at midfield by Chief Osceola from atop his trusty steed, Renegade.  As you can imagine, anything that mixes fire, Native Americans on horseback and a massive, alcohol-inspired crowd is guaranteed to create quite the commotion.  Goosebumps all around. 

Naively, I dreaded being subject to the Tomahawk chant ad nauseum throughout the game, but it, too, was very cool to behold.  82,000+ people joining in an intimidating and enthusiastic cheer is pretty cool.  Thankfully, Notre Dame's success that afternoon probably cut the normal number of chant occurrences in half.  In fact, at one point in the 4th quarter when the rout was on, the Florida State band, seated below the majority of the Irish road section, turned and played the chop for us.  We were actually encouraged to chop FSU fans in their own place!  A surreal moment.   

As is usually the case, the dual Jumbotrons add substantially to the experience, getting the benefit of immediate replays and extra motivation for crowd participation.  There was one glaring misuse of the screens, though.  With some of the tomahawk chants, the screen would flash various people associated with FSU - former athletes and other folk (my memory is foggy if Turd Ferduson, I mean Burt Reynolds, was included) chopping merrily with the crowd.  That was all well and good until Jared Fogle's dumb mug appeared, goofily doing the chop.  Last I checked, Jared didn't earn an FSU degree (surprisingly, he's an IU grad and North Central, Indianapolis alum).  Who were the ad-wizards that thought the Subway guy would be the perfect "celeb" to get the crowd fired up??  A laughable moment for the marketing staff.  Who knows - maybe it was a contractual obligation to serve Subway on campus.  IF (a ginormous if) the powers that be ever bit the bullet and installed Jumbotrons in ND Stadium, the university should never EVER cave to the almighty sponsor and allow the confluence of sponsorship and crowd participation.  

Alas, I digress.  A fun fact about the Doak: that ND game in 2002 ranks as the 5th biggest crowd in stadium history.  Unfortunately, the Seminoles have lost 3 of those top 5 most crowded games.  All in all, just about everything you could ask for from a Southern football powerhouse.  Why it's only #6?  Well, there's some very good competition to contend with.  Florida State couldn't claim any of the top category marks (Tailgate Scene, Campus Vibe, Tradition, Fan Factor, Surrounding Area, Intangibles) from the top 5.  Stay tuned...

#7 Spartan Stadium, Michigan State

Final Score -- 40.25

You probably thought I'd forgotten all about the stadium countdown. Can't really blame you since the Bowl Game entry was in 2008, but any good labor of love has hurdles to clear (and I'm the Edwin Moses of procrastination). The best truly is yet to come, and I promise to finish before the BCS Selection Show. And if I don't, your website subscription will be fully reimbursed (oh wait...).

So let's pick things up in East Lansing and the home of Sparty, the stepchild program of the Auto State. Historically, there's always been plenty of talent at Michigan State with a solid pipeline to the NFL. State is always good for some big wins, but their fan base habitually avoids researching flights to Pasadena due to their penchant for late season flame-outs. The Rose has been wilting since 1987, with conference play becoming a bit of a curse for MSU fans. Want proof? The great and powerful Saban only managed one finish above 5th place in his 5 years. Too bad Notre Dame's early season Big Ten slate usually catches the Spartans at their gritty, non-dysfunctional best.

Spartan fans and players are always dialed up for the Irish, which makes road trips to East Lansing a pretty entertaining experience. The nearby lots are definitely tailgate friendly as opposed to their in-state rivals, and MSU fans/students know how to get their drink on. In fact, revelry seems to supersede tradition with fans fatalistically assuming the rug is coming out from under them at some point. Might as well enjoy the inevitable fall!

The stadium holds a handful over 75,000 and can become quite a loud and hostile environment. (Did you know: a recording of crowd noise during the 1959 ND-MSU matchup was incorporated into Stanley Kubrick's Spartacus. Not too shabby). Nothing stands out as remarkable, but the whole package delivers the big state school experience.

All WeIs contributors who've made the trip on various occasions exited with a sour taste, thanks to Herb Haygood's mad dash to victory in 2000 and 1998's deer-in-headlights 1st half (a.k.a. the greatest head coaching mismatch in the history of college football). Unfortunately, nobody was present for ND's best comeback of the 21st century, which inspired the greatest radio meltdown in the history of the world (to my knowledge, the only time football, applesauce, Teddy Ruxpin and HR Pufnstuf have been referenced in the same soliloquy). It wouldn't be a Michigan State post without mention of Mike Valenti's contribution to the world wide web.

All in all, Spartan Stadium is an underrated stadium with a solid party atmosphere.

#8 Bowl Games

FINAL SCORE - 39.24

If you missed the last installment of the Countdown, here's #9. I know, I know. It's dragging. I'm going to give everyone an early Christmas present and make this the last installment of the year. Fitting to leave off with the bowl games. I'll pick up with a much anticipated #7 in summer '09 once football camp breaks.

This ranking is unique because it combines experiences from 4 major bowl venues: Sun Devil Stadium (Fiesta Bowl), The Superdome (Sugar Bowl), Alltel Stadium (Gator Bowl) and the Florida Citrus Bowl, spanning a total of 6 different games (4 bowl games, 2 regular season games). For the countdown, I totaled all rankings for bowl stadium venues into one overall "stadium experience" - the Bowl Game.

Since all but Sun Devil Stadium are located at remote stadiums, the lack of a campus vibe and all the pomp and pageantry associated with it hurts the ranking. Along those same lines, the tradition surrounding the game experience, or lack thereof, hurts the bowl games. Granted, the Sugar and Fiesta Bowls are steeped in big-game ramifications, not to mention all the history of the Superdome (including the spot where Keith Smart hit the game winning shot in the '87 NCAA Championship Game - need a tissue Ravi?), but the absence of any significant tradition hurts the Gator and Citrus Bowls.

Overall, the bowl games scored the highest in the Intangibles category, which makes perfect sense since all trips were to warm-weather cities, with the celebratory vibe of New Year's hanging over most experiences. The opportunity to hang out on Bourbon Street or Mill Street mingling with opposing fans should be pursued at all costs. Two of the best party strips in America. No further words need to be wasted on New Orleans - unlike any other place. Lesser known for its awesomeness is the Fiesta Bowl extravaganza known as the Block Party. Mill Street, mere blocks from Arizona State's campus, becomes a carnival of excitement with myriad stages of live music, a pep rally for both schools with a marching band "Band-Off" and your choice of bars to ring in the new year. A WeIs shout out to Rula Bula's for a night to remember. Unfortunately, now that the Fiesta Bowl has gone corporate and moved its venue to Glendale, the opportunity to walk from your seat in Sun Devil Stadium to celebrate a victory on Mill Street, or in our case, drown our sorrows, is rendered obsolete. For shame. There weren't many stadiums that boasted a better surrounding area than Fiesta Bowl's at Sun Devil: both picturesque with the mountains as a backdrop and party-accessible.

As great of experiences as the Fiesta and Sugar Bowl are, the Gator and Citrus Bowl drag them down. Jacksonville is an underwhelming city, to say the least. Everything is spread out and there's hardly any cabs to help you get around. The advice given by locals to party for New Year's downtown at "The Landing" turned out to be more like a food court with beer. Tailgating was just as miserable, drinking beer and champagne in a parking lot before a noon start. Jacksonville Municipal Stadium, as it is now called, is "nice" in an NFL corporate sense, but not a dripping with college football history and tradition sense. The best tradition it has going for it is host for "The World's Largest Outdoor Cocktail Party" - the annual grudge match between Florida and Georgia. If and when WeIs makes it way back to J-ville for that experience, the Gator Bowl's ranking will certainly enjoy a spike across all categories. But for now, it's officially a dud, save for the fact that Doug met his wife that weekend. So Jacksonville has matchmaker going for it, which is nice.

The Citrus Bowl venue in Orlando hosted two Irish regular season games: a bitter "neutral" field matchup with Florida State in 1994 and a random neutral site versus Navy for Fall Break 2000. The stadium is in a remote area of town off some turnpike. There's absolutely nothing special about the place, other than the fact it can hold 70,000 people within its concrete walls. It actually has a decent history as a bowl site, hosting multiple games every bowl season. The first game actually dates back to 1947 when it was called the Tangerine Bowl. Back to the actual experiences, the Florida State game was actually quite negative as my only recollections involve rowdy, intoxicated Seminole fans picking fights with Irish fans in the stands and spitting at/on us walking out of the stadium. These FSU fans didn't put their best foot forward, unlike the fans we encountered at Doak Campbell. The Navy game was a half-full crowd going through the motions of being excited. This was back in the days when we regularly dominated Navy and the outcome was determined by halftime. Two things made the game more enjoyable than it should have been: they served beer in the stadium - perfect for us students on Fall Break - and they had a scoreboard that tracked the rushing, passing and total yards for each team, a simple, yet fun feature. Irish fans should be ready to enjoy more Citrus Bowl "excitement" as Kevin White orchestrated deals to return to Orlando in 2011 and 2014. The chance that we have the cajones to play someone on par with Florida State are slim to none. Army is already on tap as the opponent in 2011 - yippee!! Book your trip now for that barnburner!

In summary, while the bowl venues normally bring a festive mood to the trip, it's not enough to make up for what it lacks in campus vibe, tradition and fan factor. The tailgate scene is hit or miss, while the surrounding area is totally dependent on where the game is played. If it's a BCS game, you're gonna have a hell of a time in a great city. If it's anywhere else (unless you're heading over to Hawaii), you'll have to make your own fun.

#9 Michigan Stadium

FINAL SCORE - 37.33

For your tracking convenience, here's #10 and #11 on the "slowed to a crawl" Countdown. At this point, you have full permission to call me Eric Moussambani for the current snail's pace.

Ahh, good ole Michigan Stadium, aka The Big House. Though this year, the House faithful have scattered like underagers at a kegger, lamenting the growing pains of a system change without a QB. Whether or not Dick Rod rights the ship and stops the bleeding (I should say hemorraghing with news of significant transfers) is a topic for another day. We're here to discuss the merits of the grounds where the Wolverines do battle.

On the positive side, there's a sincere respect for this structure since it served as the model for The House That Rockne Built in 1930. Also, anytime you can count yourself among the "largest crowd to attend a football game," it registers on the cool scale - right below spotting Manute Bol at a Bulls game trying to "blend in." The sheer mass of humanity that fits inside is a spectacle unto its own. 111,000 people in one place is hard to fathom. Ann Arbor itself is a great college town, but not too close to the stadium, which hurts their overall score. I'd be remiss not to bring up the fond Irish memory of Bo having the audacity to kick to the Rocket not once, but twice, in a rainy #1 vs. #2 contest in Ann Arbor. Finally, the history associated with the edifice is long and storied, as detailed by this in-depth library page.

But, lest I paint too rosy a picture, this is the same Michigan Stadium that serves as homebase for the team Irish fans love to hate. Too many heartwrenching defeats have been witnessed in the cavernous bowl, particularly the 1999 edition. I'm sure Michigan fans will swear by their automobile that the stadium is a holy place of worship, but the overall experience is rather sub-par. The location is rather remote from campus proper, so there's no "walking around the quads" or mingling with undergrads unless you know somebody (or know someone who knows somebody, as is wont the case) at the neighboring houses. Consequently, the sprawl leaves little gameday buzz or concentrated intensity that should accompany a powerhouse program.

You park at a middle school or on the golf course and roam around aimlessly, until you stumble upon an intersection with a large mass of people waiting to cross. Look across the street and, "Oh. There it is." Pardon the lack of exclamatory impact, but that's the normal reaction for first-timers. Due to the stadium's architecture, the structure "towers" above us at a lofty height of 30 feet or so. It's quite the befuddling realization - that's it??

Once you enter the gates, there's a painfully long and slow logjam of a line waiting for you to get in your section. Then, you walk down, and down and down to wherever your seats are. Once you sit, you can appreciate the size of the place. But due to it's curvature, or lack thereof, the noise drifts out of the stadium. What should be a deafening roar when the team runs on the field or when the defense is trying to get a big stop is nowhere close to that. Nothing like the rabid SEC crowds and the headache-inducing drone.

Well, there is one cause for headaches, but for all the wrong reasons. With the relative tame noise level, your privvy to one of the more annoying "superfans" and his incessant cowbell. I know the guy is trying to rally the crowd, but if those are the gimmicky lengths it takes to get Michigan fans loud, I'm sorry. In the words of the principal in Billy Madison, "I award you no points, and may God have mercy on your soul." If I were a Michigan ticket-holder, I couldn't imagine hearing that racket for 6 games a year. Once every two years is quite enough.

To summarize, one of the rankings' contributors best expresses the feelings toward the impressively average Ann Arbor experience: "As with Bo Schembechler's legacy, Michigan's academics and the Wolverines' 'championship' tradition, the game day experience at the "Big House" is only considered great in the eyes of Michigan fans."

#10 Ross-Ade Stadium, Purdue

FINAL SCORE - 30.5

The 2nd installment in our countdown of college stadium experiences. Click here for #11.

Let me first say that I've enjoyed some great trips to West Lafayette over the years, despite its peculiar odor (understandable for a college town whose letters spell PU). But the only game weekend spent at Purdue came in '99. We drove in Friday night in three cars, one of which featured a custom-made karaoke component with a mic attached to a megaphone on the roof. As soon as we hit the edge of town, we blared the Victory March and chanted into campus, leaving many bewildered passerbys wondering where the racket was coming from. Quite the memorable entrance. We crashed at a friend's older sister's apartment which became home base for some excellent Friday night partying. All in all, a great lead up to what turned out to be a forgettable game, where we bore witness to the 2nd straight week of the Bob Davie Clock Management for Idiots lecture series. That ending was a swift kick in the junk that certainly soured the afternoon for us and made for a bittersweet drive home.

More specific to Purdue's gameday experience, Ross-Ade Stadium felt like an oversized high school atmosphere, despite a decent stadium capacity of 62,500. The crowd is non-descript, cheering when they absolutely should, but otherwise just there. The student's main chant (do they have others?) is "Boiler Up!" which gets repeated ad nauseum. This decade has seen a number of stadium renovations and improvements, including a large Daktronics replay video board, so perhaps the experience and entertainment value has been enhanced for the fans. But we're purists here at We Is ND. The game itself should be the only entertainment necessary. Well, and the band.

Speaking of bands, Purdue lays claim to having the world's largest drum. That's all well and good, but as one We Is contributor wrote, "Someone needs to tell them that it's only the biggest because no one cares enough to make one bigger." For visitors, the novelty of the drum wears off pretty quickly.

The same contributor summed up West Lafayette with "Their bars are in strip malls and the stadium is right next to Mackey Arena, the center of hell." While the first statement is factual and a knock against the surrounding area, the second allegation reveals his Bloomington roots and the hardwood rivalry that simmers between IU and PU.

The tailgate scene is dominated by off-campus houses and fraternities. There are a few parking lots sprinkled around, but there's no dedicated area where all fans convene to get ready for a day of football. But a perk that's unique to Purdue is the policy that allows fans to exit and re-enter the stadium at halftime. Nothing like running back to the house to slam a couple brewskies before the 2nd half. With the run to and fro, it can even be construed as a workout.

Purdue boasts a decent tradition of football and has a decent NFL pedigree among its alums. Rod Woodson, Drew Brees, Mike Alstott, Jim (Chris) Everett, and Bob Griese all suited up for the gold and black. Another nice tradition that seems unique to Big Ten schools is the establishment of traveling trophies to commemorate every game in a rivalry. Purdue's Old Oaken Bucket game with Indiana is one of the more famous in all of college football.

While the trip to West Lafayette is nice, that's about all it is. A day trip for a football game, exactly what it sells itself as. Nothing stands out as unforgettable, remarkable or memorable about the overall experience of a game at Ross-Ade Stadium.

# 11 Alumni Stadium, Boston College

FINAL SCORE - 26.5
















Say what you will about this being a spite pick, but the cold hard truth is BC scraped the barrel of the rankings from four of us who all visited on separate occasions. My cousin went to BC and I have some great memories of partying with her friends on campus and going out in Beantown. But when it comes to its football culture, there is a lot to be desired. Nobody can deny that BC is a hockey school and that's not a bad thing. They, along with BU, have a proud history as one of the bastions of American hockey.

But this is a football stadiums ranking and the Eagles don't measure up. As one attendee described, "There's no bigger hole than Alumni Stadium and there's no worse collection of bitter, jealous and angry people than the B.C. 'superfans.'" Alumni Stadium resembles more a glorified high school stadium. There is little buzz around campus amongst the students and fans. The fact that most people have to park miles away and shuttle or walk to the stadium hurts the overall gameday vibe. There is a small parking lot near the stadium, but the school enforces ancient (read: lame) tailgating rules, only allowing fans to legally tailgate 2 hours before kickoff. Absurd. Boston is a terrific city to visit and walk around, but it's a T ride away from Chestnut Hill, so the direct surrounding area suffers a bit.

While the efforts of the Superfans is commendable and good for school spirit, the fact that this movement is still rather young is a shame. Notre Dame seems to draw out the best from the BC faithful. Whether or not this is simply school pride at its finest or BC students and fans putting on a mask of caring to convince Notre Dame they're not inferior when it comes to football. I'll be the first to admit that the Eagles have dealt us a few devastating losses over the years. The fans can relish that role all they want. But the fact remains that BC as a football team hasn't really accomplished much outside of these upset moments.

Counting Down Football's Cathedrals

If you're like us at We Is ND, then college football is in your blood. Saturdays are holy days of obligation, not simply to rejoice or wallow with the outcome of the Irish, but an opportunity to join a greater congregation across the country. The palette of conferences and regions that canvas the U.S. is a dazzling array of tradition and pageantry in the sports landscape. The experiential component at each school makes Saturdays an all-day affair that is much more than just 60 minutes of football between the lines. Gameday atmospheres combine campus pilgrimages, generations-old traditions and cheers, tailgate parties that transcend your typical get-togethers, young and old fans alike basking in the opportunity to celebrate the love affair each shares with the school and team.

If the games are the service that we attend to witness the drama unfold, then the stadiums are the cathedrals, standing monuments that open their doors to the ticketed masses. They come in all sizes, shapes, colors, and quirks. Some are built with the architectural intention to contain the cacaphony of clapping hands and cheering voices within its structure, giving rise to true home field advantage. There are few greater natural highs than walking through the gates of any stadium, sitting down and basking in the spectacle that surrounds you. The pomp and circumstance of the college game sets it apart from its corporate counterpart, the NFL. Student sections dominate the decibel readings, imploring the rest of the crowd to join them in the art of disrupting the visitors.

Thanks to Notre Dame's independence (which has been questioned on these pages), we have had the opportunity to visit various locales and enjoy other tradition rich schools. I conducted a poll among the We Is posse to compile a ranking of the stadiums we have been a part of. In fairness, only those stadiums at least two of us had been to were used for the ranking. This is an ongoing quest to travel to all parts of the land and join in as many traditions as we can. Just because your favorite stadium wasn't ranked doesn't mean it's not on our list of places to go.

A rundown on how the stadiums were scored. There were 6 categories to score a school, 1 - 10, 10 being the highest. I averaged the score of each category and added up the 6 averages to get an aggregate final score. The six categories:

Campus Vibe - basically a "cool" scale on what it's like to be at a given school - what's to like, or not like, about campus?

Fan Factor - pretty self-explanatory, but how passionate and loud are the fans? Also, are they welcoming or obnoxious to visitors? Educated or ignorant football fans? The people make the place, so how do they stack up?

Tailgate Scene - rising early to join the pre-game festivities and winding down after the game, some fanbases can write the book on tailgating;

Tradition - the goose bump factor: pre-game, during game, post-game; you know when you're a part of something bigger than the game, and it makes a difference;

Surrounding Area - the bar scene and direct area around campus that makes the preceding night and post-game fun to be around...or not around;

Intangibles - what happened on the trip that made it unique; this either makes you rehash the fond stories every time you're together, or you've pushed the awful memories into the farthest recesses of your mind;

Stay tuned for the countdown.........