NORTH DAKOTA STATE
Let me preface this by saying, lest my tone or intentions on this one be misinterpreted, that I do this only out of respect. I live in New York, but rest assured I carry the requisite fear of quiet people from cold, wide-open states. Ja Rule once 'sang' "I got a hundred guns, a hundred clips, I'm from New York."
Right, Ja, but you're wearing an open dress shirt and there’s like, a thousand people around. I could just duck into a deli and call for help. North Dakota's got one dude with a rifle he learned to shoot before he could walk and I have only endless frozen plain to run terrified across while he lights a cigarette and steadies his aim. I come in peace, my Bison friends, and I'm sorry I just now mispronounced Bison. This is print, but trust me, I did.
Why a new stadium? The Fargodome is great. It's an angry little box of ice bees playing lights-out football in a deafening rec room. In the view of conference commissioners, though, it's too small. (Heinz Field holds 65,000, and tell me where you'd rather be a visiting team, but still).
No, today we're building big. Big and mean and metal. Open to the freaky northern sky. Blue turf? That's a great gimmick if you’re in Idaho and it’s 1986. Playing on a frozen lake? That's a home field advantage. But it'll be cold, you say! Really? Your whole state’s just a pile of free heating gas. Light up the night. Come with me, into A Stadium Of Fire and Ice.
Wolves on the field? Wolves on the field. Own it, North Dakota. You're from a barren wasteland that's scary as hell, and if anything qualifies you to play at the top levels of college football, it's that. Besides, I'd much rather go there than Norman.