I couldn't imagine anything more depressing than a huge, nearly empty parking lot at Memorial right before a conference football game. Those hardy few true blue fans would be out there working their grills, sweat beading down their faces, dripping off their noses, sizzling when it hits the pavement. One man waves at another 40 yards across the lot. The other man comes over to say hello.
"Plenty of food on the grill, if you'd like a bite. We always try to cook enough to feed our friends in blue."
"Why thanks," he responds, as he cracks open a Bud Light, "but I reckon I've had enough. Do you like our chances?"
"Well, they never seem to be good lately, but we always have a chance. I just pray that I get to see the day this lot is full before I die."
"Amen to that. Amen to that."