Gatorade Replay: Easton-Bound and Down

Will Brinson is Easton-bound (but not down) for the Gatorade Replay of America's most important high school rivalry.

Gatorade might be onto something with its new "G Moment" campaign. (Bear with me -- this is not an advertising shill; really, it's more of a bizarre epiphany of sorts.) See, everyone has a story about playing sports in high school. Some stories are awesome: a buddy of mine once struck out 12 hitters in an eighth-grade baseball game. And some stories are lame -- I won a trophy during the debate club and also bowled a 158 during intermurals.

But the point is this: we all have some sort of "Eastbound and Down" notion within ourselves. We all have a set of memories that constantly delude us into believing that the days when we thought we were relevant (then) are vastly more important than days in which we grasp just how unimportant we really are (now) in the grand scheme of things.

That's not supposed to be depressing, it's just the truth. It's the reason why Dazed & Confused was created. It's the reason why people still listen to Bruce Springsteen's "Glory Days." And it's the reason my buddy still yaps about striking people out ... in eighth grade.

The past is always far more enjoyable than the present, especially without the typical irony in which an outside viewer revels. Thanks to a party thrown during the Gatorade Replay, I was given the chance to watch the past and present collide (a metaphorical moon tower, even).

The party in question was centered around a bonfire. I headed over to the party on Saturday at about 10 at night, thinking that the bonfire -- an Eastern-Pburg tradition that takes place the night before the big game -- would probably already be winding down (it started at 8:30). Instead, what I walked into was a full-on rager out in the middle of the Pennsylvania mountains (I think there were mountains -- they could have just been hills ... it was hard to tell, it was dark.)

Gatorade rented a huge bar, set up a band (with cowbell!) outside on a big stage, and even went so far as to set a metaphorical small house on fire. Basically, Gatorade invited every person within 100 miles of Easton, Pa. to join them for a pre-game celebratory party.

And the party was flat-out slammed. Part keg party, part high-school reunion and part tailgate, everyone in attendance was wearing their finest Friday night wear. There were countless ex-jocks grappling each other's shoulders, screaming "MEAT" and "STEAK", and talking about the days of yesteryear when there was football to be played.

But a number of party-goers perched themselves on the long wooden fence that ran parallel to the deck on the back of the bar and reminisced emotionally about the past. There were some awkward moments, and some tears as well.

I have no idea if the party ended with some climactic fight between two high school enemies who happened to cross paths next to the dying bonfire; I'd left long before then. But I do know what I saw up there in the mountains of Pennsylvania: that when given the chance, most people care more about their past "heroics" than they do about their present and/or future.

And that's not to say that people are bad or that memories and dreams should be left behind; it's just that seeing the notion of nostalgia materialize itself into an actual party in a place I'd never been before (to relive a football game that happened 15 years ago) was surreal. And maybe a little moving.

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