Confessions of a Fall Groom

Hello, it's nice to meet you, my name is Mark, and I'm That Guy. What guy? That guy who got married on a Saturday during football season.

Seven years ago this week, my wife and I walked down the aisle on a day when both of Iowa's major college football teams were involved in season-defining games. You'd think I, of all people, would have known better. I risked incurring the wrath of my family and friends who were almost certainly going to miss seeing their teams really take it to major opponents. The unranked Hawkeyes were on the road in Happy Valley taking on No. 12 Penn State. Iowa State was No. 19 and favored over No. 21 Nebraska for the first time since the Precambrian Era.

We were going to miss both games. And it was all because of me.

To be fair, getting married on a college football Saturday wasn't the original plan. We had planned to get married in December of 2002, but in the spring of that year my father was killed in a traffic accident. My dad was not a big sports fan, not at all, but he did enjoy going to college football games, and I let him have my tickets for the last one he went to. September 29, 2001. Iowa 24, Penn State 18.

We learned, as if we needed a reminder, that life is fragile and precious and if there's something you want to do, you should just go ahead and do it. Also, my family was in dire need of something to be happy about. So we moved the wedding up to September even though, like I said, you'd think I would know better.

I couldn't have cared less about missing the Iowa State game. The first six college football games I went to were Iowa State games in the early 1980s, an experience which taught me that following Cyclone football will do to your soul what licking the floor of a slaughterhouse will do to your digestive system. Many in my family feel differently, however, for a variety of unpersuasive reasons -- like having degrees from ISU.

Missing the Hawkeye game, though, that was a problem. In 2002 we still weren't so sure about that Kirk Ferentz guy, even if he had just gotten the Hawkeyes back to a bowl game the season before. The chance to upset a ranked team on the road didn't come along too often in those days.

Two of my four groomsmen didn't give a rat's bonkus about the game. One, my brother, has never seemed interested in college sports. The other was a University of Cincinnati alumnus who followed Ohio State and still hadn't gotten over John Cooper. My other two groomsmen were Iowa alums and former members of the Hawkeye Marching Band. Missing this game was not acceptable. Fortunately, the church had a big-screen TV in a Sunday School room. Unfortunately, it wasn't hooked up to cable.

We untwisted the hanger that held the clown pants that came with my tuxedo. Then we hooked it to the coax terminal on the back of the TV and tried to point it in the general direction of Austin, Minn., where the nearest ABC affiliate was. After a long struggle we managed to get a faint, snowy, line-strewn picture, but the audio was clear. Even though the game went into overtime, it wrapped up just in time for the ceremony, with Iowa victorious. My Cyclone fan relatives were, as usual, completely out of luck, missing only their second victory over Nebraska in the preceding 25 years. To top it off, we had the reception at the church, so there was no alcohol. We did, however, have karaoke. It's a miracle any of my relatives still talk to me.

Flash forward six and a half years. As our seventh anniversary approached, my wife decided it would be nice if we renewed our vows. I agreed and we set the date for the Saturday closest to our actual anniversary. Then I checked Iowa's schedule, just out of curiosity.

At Penn State. Again.

Of course, after week one and the near-meltdown against Northern Iowa, I began to consider that perhaps there might be an advantage to missing the Penn State game. I have always had a strict policy of changing channels if the Hawkeyes are losing, which is why I'm the only person in America who associates Bob Ross and his "happy little trees" with college football.

Then the Hawkeyes showed they'd learned from the experience and started playing like a team that knew it didn't have much margin for error. The Penn State game grew in stature, making me edgier about missing it. It was bad enough that I was going to miss an entire day of football and I wouldn't be able to help my colleagues here at FanHouse get game stories up. The thought of missing a game this big just made it worse.

Last Saturday finally arrived and I could not for the life of me believe that I forgot it was a 7PM CT kickoff. With the ceremony at 3PM, plus a reception and a dinner, there was a better-than-good chance I would at least be able to see the second half. As Iong as I was willing to be enough of a jerkpot to watch a football game instead of hanging with my wife on the day we renewed our wedding vows, that is.

Only one of my four groomsmen was able to make it to the ceremony, one of the Iowa guys. He showed up early and we talked about the game. Finally he asked, "You picked Penn State to win, didn't you?"



Yes. Yes, I had, violating two of my most basic rules for predicting Big Ten football. Always go with the team that has been in more close games, and always pick Iowa over Penn State regardless of the circumstances. For whatever reason, I put more stock in Daryll Clark than I did in Iowa's pass defense. I will never learn.

The ceremony was a powerful experience. I recommend vow renewals enthusiastically, because at a renewal you have some idea what you really mean when you say words like "promise" and "honor" and "until death parts us." And I can honestly say I didn't think about football once.

Until the reception, that is. Then it was on my mind.

Around four o'clock, my groomsman told me he and his family would be heading home. They have small kids. So do I. I told him I understood that sometimes you just have to go before the window closes and your kids won't sleep in the car. I also told him that if he hurried he might be back home by kickoff. Either he hadn't considered this possibility or he's a very good actor.

After a dinner during which we learned the horrible news that our oldest child has a taste for crab legs, we went home and got the kids off to bed. I knew it was only halftime of the game. Dare I? No. I sat quietly with my wife and watched "People With Nothing in the World to Complain About Start Nit-Picking the $500,000 Houses They're Thinking About Buying, or Possibly Selling," better known as "Every Single Show on HGTV." An act of love? Partly. Mostly I knew that if I spent ten or fifteen minutes pretending to care about people who just can't find a vacation home in Tuscany that suits their their tastes, she'd probably fall asleep.

And she did, right after a yuppie couple decided to blow the cost of an Ivy League education on a Spanish condo the size of a refrigerator box, only less charming. I tuned in mere moments after Adrian Clayborn's punt block. Thus I never saw the Hawkeyes trail.

It was a fine day. Maybe September weddings aren't so bad after all.