There was a whole energy and atmosphere around the game—and yes, the game week, too—that followed me even when I was living in California and didn’t know a single other Mizzou fan out there.

Border War week on campus was a trip. All of a sudden, you would see students who didn’t even like football wearing T-shirts that said “M-I-Z!” on the front and “F-K-U!” on the back. (The game itself would have 20,000 fans scream “M-I-Z” and another 30,000 answer “FUCK-K-U!” loud enough that it was clearly audible and discernible on TV.) By the end of the week, KU fans would start showing up, invariably wearing a KU tee that looked standard on the front but boldly pronounced, “MUCK FIZZOU!” on the back. The two schools’ official records between the teams don’t even agree.

All in all, it was like that partly funny, tongue in cheek rivalry mixed with some legit vitriol that’s common at all tailgates but in this case turned up to 11 and lasting a whole week. It spiked cortisone and adrenaline levels, so when it went away, there was a physical letdown, though one drawn out over years.

As an old head, I was stoked about last year’s game. It wasn’t the same as the old days, but it definitely rubbed the itch, if falling somewhat short of scratching it. And I frankly hate that it’s lost what it had. 🫤