From September through November, Saturday’s are sacred to me. Work, responsibilities, and obligations are cast aside. No plans are made that would take me beyond eyeshot of a television and under no circumstances is anyone to disturb me, unless, of course, they are doing so to discuss college football.

I can usually be found at the J-Bar sipping a pint, eyes rotating from one flat screen television to the next. If J-Bar’s satellite goes down, and it has, I’ll venture to Cooper Street or the Red Onion and burrow in with the abusive, red-faced drinkers.

Aspen’s college football following is far from impressive. In fact, I’d go as far as to call it depressing. On a typical Saturday you will find a handful of people watching the games at the local sports bars, but very few true fans. What’s the definition of a “true fan?” A true fan is the kind of person who isn’t afraid to jump off a barstool and scream at the television as if he were the head coach, someone who attains a euphoric high when his team wins and requires a heavy dose of Prozac when they lose.

Local support for our own Colorado Buffaloes and Colorado State Rams borders on pathetic. Rarely do I see a Buff or Ram fan cheering their team in the local bars. Maybe they prefer to watch the games at home. Maybe it’s because the state of Colorado has only had a few teams to be proud of since the Buffaloes shared the National Title with Georgia Tech in 1990. Or maybe, due to the transplant nature of Aspen’s population, there just aren’t many Buff or Ram fans around.

Even if there are, it must be difficult for Buff fans to get fired up when their team has been slapped with accusations of alcohol abuse and rape in recent years. Avoiding the spotlight of the program’s darkest hour, it’s possible that Colorado fans are simply laying low until their reputation is restored. Unfortunately, Colorado’s reputation took another blow this week when the Buffs got the beat down from division I-AA Montana State in their home opener. “A disgrace,” said ESPN analyst, Kirk Herbstreit, of Colorado’s performance. I concur.

Having spent my college years in Tallahassee, I miss the frenzy that surrounds college game day; the gathering of the masses, the fans decked in their favorite player’s jersey, the drunken in-your-face trash talking, the occasional fight, the overall belligerent behavior of those whose emotional well-being hinges on the outcome of a game.

I rank myself as one of the frenzied fanatics. I have my good luck Seminole jersey (a #9 Peter Warrick), I read the post-season recruiting news and the analyst’s reports before each game, I listen to the expert’s predictions, and I draw my own pre-game conclusions, which are always favorable.

Leading up to a big game, I get so anxious that I literally dream about it. This week I had my first FSU vs. Miami dream. I was at my cousin’s 3^rd birthday party. There was only one TV in the house. It was located in the living room, where dozens of youngsters were hopping and skipping around like savages. No one seemed concerned about the game. Because of the chaos, I couldn’t hear any of the commentary, nor could I watch a single play without a dozen little bodies obstructing my view. It was pure hell.

Once the game begins, I’m a complete wreck. During many close games I’ve said to my wife, “Honey, I think I’ll end up dying of a heart attack during an FSU game.” She just nods.

Tonight, the Noles and Canes do battle in Miami’s famed Orange Bowl, a rivalry that has produced more National Champions and NFL players than any other. I can only hope I live through it.