Nobody Remembers the Score, but They Remember Who Brought Ice

Four hours before kickoff, a stadium lot is a small town that builds itself out of folding tables and pop-up canopies, then vanishes by midnight. Every small town has one guy who breaks every rule without noticing. He parks across two spaces. He brings a bag of ice the size of a sandwich. He cuts through your cornhole game holding a plate of your brisket. For roughly three seasons that guy was me, and the only reason I stopped is that my wife kept quietly fixing things behind me until I caught on.

The rules

1. Bring ice. Then bring more ice. Nobody in the history of September has said, "I wish Dave had brought less ice." Ice is your food safety plan. Cold food needs to stay at 40°F or below, and perishables shouldn't sit out more than two hours, or one hour once it's above 90°F. Run two coolers, one for drinks and one for food. The drink cooler gets opened every forty seconds, and the potato salad deserves better.

2. Show up with something, even when they said you didn't have to. "Just bring yourself" is a test, and you're allowed to pass it. Chips, a sleeve of cups, a bag of buns. Or paper towels, the item every tailgate runs out of by eleven and nobody ever thinks to pack. Show up with two rolls and you're the hero of the tent.

3. One car, one space. A lawn chair isn't a legal document, and it can't hold four spots for your cousin's carpool. The family circling behind you paid to park too. Read the lot's posted rules before you go: opening time, glass bans, whether grills are allowed. Some lots are strict about saving spaces, and arguing with a parking attendant is a terrible way to start a Saturday.

4. Weight the canopy before the wind shows up. My wife suggested sandbags. I said the wind wouldn't dare. It dared. A pop-up canopy in a gust turns into a sail, and a sail with metal legs can hurt somebody. Stake it or weight every leg, and take it down if the wind picks up. This one isn't a joke.

5. "Looks done" isn't a temperature. The guy who eyeballs chicken spends the third quarter regretting it. Pack an instant-read thermometer. Ground beef goes to 160°F and chicken to 165°F. Keep raw meat away from everything else in the cooler, and bring a separate plate for the cooked stuff so it doesn't go back on the platter the raw burgers came out on.

6. Grills and generators stay out in the open air. Never run a grill or a generator inside a tent, under an enclosed canopy, or in or near a vehicle. Carbon monoxide has no smell and it can kill. Set the grill away from the canopy, the cars and the crowd, and point generator exhaust away from where people are sitting. Also keep the smoke from drifting straight into the next tent's playpen.

7. Hot coals never go in a trash can. Coals look dead long before they are. Let them burn down, douse them with water, stir, and douse them again. If the lot has a coal bin, use it. If not, carry them out in a metal container with a lid. A trash can fire in a packed lot is how a good day ends early for everybody.

8. Never walk through a cornhole lane. There's an invisible corridor between those boards, and it has its own gravity. Regulation boards sit 27 feet apart, which is a long way to watch a beanbag come at your shin. Walk around. It costs you four seconds and keeps somebody's game going.

9. Your speaker serves the lot, not the other way around. Your playlist is a gift, and nobody wants a gift at that volume. If the folks one tent over have to shout to hear each other, turn it down. Somebody nearby has a toddler asleep in a stroller and is doing heroic work to keep it that way.

10. Pack for the kids like the game's going to overtime. The children will be fine for exactly as long as the snacks hold out. Bring water, a change of clothes, ear protection for the little ones, and a ball to throw in a safe corner away from traffic. Lots are full of cars backing up, so set one rule for the kids and enforce it. If this is your first big family outing, taking everybody to a game without blowing $400 has the planning side covered.

11. Feed the visitors. The fan in the other team's jersey wandering around looking for a restroom is somebody's dad. Point him the right way, then hand him a plate. The rivalry lasts sixty minutes. The story he tells on the drive home about the people who fed him lasts a lot longer, and it's the best advertisement your school will ever get.

12. Share freely, but you're not a free buffet. The neighbor on his third trip to your grill "just grabbing one more" hasn't brought a single thing. Being generous is the point. Letting one guy work through the food you brought for your kids isn't generosity, it's poor planning. "We're feeding our crew first, then you're welcome to what's left" is a friendly, complete sentence. Say it with a smile and mean both halves.

13. Settle the drive home before you leave the house. Pick the driver at breakfast, not in the fourth quarter. Whoever has the keys stays clear-headed all day. Thank them with a plate of the good stuff and pay for their parking.

14. Go to the game. You didn't buy a ticket to watch a parking lot from a camp chair. Start packing forty-five minutes before kickoff. Food goes back in the coolers, coolers go in the car, and nothing's left out to draw critters or walk off while you're inside. Then go watch. Somebody worked all week for this, and a few of them are nineteen years old. Try watching the safeties first and you'll see half the plays coming before the snap.

15. Leave your spot cleaner than you found it. If you found a bottle cap and a lone flip-flop when you pulled in, leave without both. Bring two big contractor bags, one for trash and one for recycling, and pick up everything within ten feet of your space, including what isn't yours. The crew that cleans the lot on Sunday morning will never know your name. Do it anyway. It's the same reason the best tailgates at a Friday night high school game have dads stacking chairs long after the lights go out.

The rule under all of them

For six hours the lot belongs to everybody, which means it's on loan to you. Bring more than you take, look after the people around you, and hold your ground politely when somebody tries to take more than their share. Then haul your trash out like you'd be embarrassed to have anyone see you leave it, because you would be. The score fades by Tuesday. The guy who showed up with forty pounds of ice and left the asphalt spotless gets invited back every year.