Q: I’ve had a tailgate party in the same spot for just about every Aggie home game since R. C. Slocum’s last season, in 2002. This year I’d like to make the move to a different spot, on the other side of the stadium, but it’s between two established tailgates, and I don’t know the folks who host them. Are there any guidelines for busting in and setting up a new tailgate?
Howard Marples
Houston
October 2012
A: That all depends on what sort of tailgate you are planning to bust in and set up. Is it one of those gigantic, bottomless-keg bashes that boast a mouthwatering spread of professionally catered grub, multiple sixty-inch plasma televisions, and a prescheduled appearance by your alma mater’s marching band’s percussion section? As anyone who has ever attended a football game—be it professional, collegiate, powder-puff, or peewee—in the great state of Texas well knows, there is a spectrum of tailgate ostentation along which these festive pregame shindigs may be plotted. At one end is the aforementioned five-star jamboree, complete with its own power grid and kitchen staff; at the other, it’s just two guys sharing pigskin pleasantries and a flask of contraband bourbon while enjoying a bag of cold McNuggets. Though the bigger parties tend to provide the neighbors with more perks (“Hey, y’all, this commercial-sized chafing dish full of pork tamales ain’t gonna eat itself!”), their size and spectacle can be intrusive. There is a common bond that binds any home game’s tailgaters, but that bond can be strained by the roar of a dozen generators kicking on at once. Nonetheless, even a comically ginormous party can be wedged in if the approach is tactful. Which is to say, keep those tamales coming, and be sure to give your neighbors ample warning before the bass drums arrive. Also keep in mind that tailgate real estate is often held in perpetuity by way of the honor system, so make sure you’re not violating the sacrosanctity of that code. And you should further verify that the spot is in an open-access site and there are no official hoops (fees, permits, etc.) to jump through. If the answers to those questions are “I’m not” and “There ain’t,” then the Texanist wouldn’t hesitate, not for one tick of the clock, to pull up stakes and put them down anew on the other side of Kyle Field. Just let a thumbs-up and a hearty “Gig ’em!” be your introduction.
Q: A very long time ago I was involved in a friendly game of washers in what turned out to be some not-so-friendly weather. I was behind in points when I called the game due to inclement conditions. Since that time, my opponent claims, on every occasion that presents itself, that he whupped me in washers that day. How long do I have to take this?
Pete
Via e-mail
January 2008
A: The Texanist’s familiarity with horseshoe and washer pits is extensive. And to be sure, throughout this decades-spanning experience, he has been and is currently involved in several intractable grudge matches. These contests are generally as convivial as the friendships that revolve around them, yet they are contests nonetheless, and the Texanist is most concerned by your untimely “calling” of a game on grounds of weather. A faint heart and a dearth of intestinal fortitude have no place in washer tossing or related diversions. The Texanist was once able to take down a few skins in a Las Vegas windstorm that gusted upward of 50 miles per hour. You are advised to challenge your friend to a rematch and earn his trap shut.
Q: Our six-year-old daughter has just finished her first season of soccer and is going to play again this summer. With regard to cheering, is it out of line to root for a win in her “no-score” league? Where exactly does the line between parental supportiveness and overenthusiastic sideline parent from hell lie?
Name Withheld
July 2011
A: Amongst all of life’s curricula, there are few lessons more important than those imparted via peewee sports. It’s on these shortened fields where children first learn how to handle with dignity and poise both the thrill of victory and the agony of defeat. And it’s on the sidelines of these fields where parents get a refresher course in the same. Here’s the CliffsNotes version: Supporting your own child with moderately enthusiastic encouragement is good; razzing, heckling, or in any way attempting to “get inside the head of” another child is bad. Punitive behavior (e.g., withholding orange slices, et cetera) toward the less athletic children on your own child’s team is also unacceptable, however tempting it may be. Even the coach is never to be verbally or otherwise abused, no matter how idiotic it was for him to put that nearsighted Stevens girl in at goalie with ten minutes left in the game. And as for these so-called no-score leagues, it is the Texanist’s experience that if the peewees are old enough to count, then the peewees keep score. Everyone may get a trophy in the end, but the peewees know, as sure as there will be juice boxes, in which team’s column to place the W and the L.
Q: My wife has just informed me that we
will be attending her college roommate’s wedding, which is to be held in Phoenix on the first Sunday in February. The problem, as you are likely aware, is that this is Super Bowl Sunday. Who plans a wedding on Super Bowl Sunday? Secondly, how do
I get out of going?
Name Withheld
Dallas
January 2012
A: The Texanist dimly recalls having once been involved in a covert operation at the postnuptial festivities of a forgotten (to him, at least) friend of his missus, during which he and a dozen or so other spouses, fiancés, boyfriends, uncles, nephews, cousins, a waiter, a cellist, and a ring bearer skipped the dancing, toasts, and cake and piled into the back of