Ticketless fans get in on ODU action

Thirty-four minutes until kickoff. Nowhere to watch the game.

My options were slim.

Atop the parking garage where the red pass is required, a security guard motioned fans away from the rails overlooking the new field. The university doesn't want anyone up here, the guard said. And it makes sense. Everyone should have to buy a ticket.

But the excitement. The band. The new stadium. The sellout crowd. The perfect weather. If ever there were extenuating circumstances, this was it, right?

No.

And soon enough, it was not just a security guard, it was ODU police as well. They said I would have to go. So would the 60 fans waiting for a glimpse of the new team.

Almost everyone tried to plead their case. It wasn't just the new team. It wasn't just Thomas DeMarco or Drew Hareza they came to see. They were here because they wanted to check out the game-day experience. What kind of energy would this new Foreman Field have? What kind of crowd is an ODU football crowd? And just out of curiosity, would they play "Ice Cream & Cake "?

For fans without the time, resources or luck to land tickets to Saturday's game, the top story of the parking garage seemed like the ideal spot for a first look at ODU football.

Fans have been waiting for this team for decades, and now, with 34 minutes until kickoff, they have to go? Just like that?

Of course, there were other options.

Last week, one ODU spokeswoman jokingly suggested I rent a cherry picker to see the game. But not only was parking directly in front of the stadium limited, it would cost between $800 to $1,200 to rent the crane. Plus, you'd want to take some OSHA courses just to be safe 80 to 120 feet in the air. Not my thing.

Another option was in the 52 00 block of Bluestone Ave., perhaps the only house in Larchmont - maybe the only building anywhere on or off ODU's campus - with a direct view of the field.

From Paul and Kimberly Engebrigtsen's second-story window, visitors can see most of the action. I've paid a lot more for obstructed-view seats at

FedEx Field. But there's one problem: The Engebrigtsen s have season tickets, too, and there's almost no chance they'll leave you the run of the place.

Perhaps the best remaining option, for those brave enough to try it, is the three benches next to the Army ROTC building, behind the scoreboard, where fans can see part of the field and listen to ODU's marching band playing in the bleachers almost directly above them.

Still, the best experience, the prettiest view, the most honest place to be a fan without paying honest money to be a fan, seemed to be the red-pass parking garage.

Even after initial warnings, no one was going anywhere. Yes, police came, but there was too much excitement. New fans kept trickling in, running on their tiptoes so as not to be noticed, but fast enough to claim the few remaining seats on the rail. The band was playing. Pre-game hype was building.

"This is the best seat in the house," one fan shouted.

Miles Huffman, a 19-year-old sociology major, didn't see a reason to leave. He was shut out after waiting in line for tickets for hours last week. This was the best option. It could pass for third-tier seating at an NFL game, he said.

Then, a group of five ODU officers, this time on bikes, pedaled their way to the top. Less than four minutes until the game. So close. The public address system started playing Guns N' Roses, and as Axl Rose screeched "This is the jungle, baby," the crowd noise crescendoed.

In this moment, it was clear: No one could leave now. Too many remember-whens at stake. The police officers dismounted, stood and watched along with the hundreds of fans now gathered to see kickoff.

The clock hit zero. T.J. Cowart ran the opening kickoff back to the Chowan 49-yard line.

The folks atop the parking garage shared high-fives, screamed and stomped their feet. The police officers clapped their hands and pumped their fists. They smiled, then slowly climbed back on their bicycles, circled the garage and went on their way.

The fans would not be denied.