Tailgating is banned at the Super Bowl today — at least in the parking lots officially designated by the organizers. But thousands of people will nonetheless be pitching tents, grilling burgers and tapping beer kegs somewhere in Indianapolis as they partake in a ritual that has its roots in the first intercollegiate football game played between Rutgers and Princeton.
On Nov. 6, 1869, the two teams met on a field where the school’s gymnasium now stands in New Brunswick, N.J. There were 50 players — 25 to each team playing a game with rules more akin to rugby than modern football — and 100 spectators. Apparently, the Rutgers supporters, seeking to set themselves apart, wound scarlet-colored scarves around their heads. This may have been the one of the first times that college sports fans adorned themselves with their school colors, but it wouldn’t be the last.
Tailgating websites — yes, they exist, along with entire businesses devoted to making products designed for an event that some fans consider to be more important than the game itself — like to presume that spectators at the Princeton-Rutgers game may have tailgated on the back of wagons at that first game. But the official history has them sitting on a low wooden fence. There’s no mention of food or drink, critical elements to modern tailgating. But we can assume that the spectators may at least have brought a flask or two of strong liquor to keep warm on what was likely a chilly fall day. The game started at 3 p.m. and after it was finished the teams had an “amicable feed together,” according to a report in the Rutgers’ college newspaper: “At 8 o'clock our guests went home, in high good spirits, thirsting to beat us next time, if they can.” Rutgers won the game 6-4.
From these humble origins would come a pastime now seen by many as essential as the games it precedes. Credit a five-day, eight-hour-a-day work week with helping to speed along tailgating’s popularity. And, perhaps, Henry Ford. You can’t tailgate, after all, without a car, and Ford brought cars to the masses. In the early 20th century, families would load up their Model T trucks and head out to watch games. They would back the trucks in toward the field and drop the back gates to create a place to sit. They brought picnics or purchased food from local vendors. But these were not the highly planned, coordinated events we see today.
The makings of the modern tailgate, with its serious organization and potentially huge price tag — some people spend upwards of $25,000 on tailgating parties — goes back to the 1950s. As college football rivalries became increasingly embedded into American culture, universities such as the University of Mississippi began to set aside areas for pre- and post-game parties. Indeed, one of the best-known tailgates happens at the “Grove” in Oxford, Miss., home of the University of Mississippi. Ole Miss has a legendary football program, which included a starting quarterback in the late 1960s by the name of Archie Manning — whose son Eli is quarterbacking today for the New York Giants. On home game days, the 10-acre lawn studded with magnolia, oak and elm trees fills up with tents in the school colors of cardinal and navy — and tables bedecked with linen, fine china and silverware.
Such elegance is harder to find off the Ole Miss campus. The basic tailgate — north, south, east and west — is more likely to include lawn chairs, grills, plastic coolers, ribs, burgers, hot dogs, the occasional fried turkey and lots of beer, consumed through rounds of beer-pong or otherwise. Tailgaters at the University of Michigan, however, split the difference, with many buying mobile homes and outfitting them with fancy kitchens and external flat-screen televisions. Fans of the Wolverines have been gathering at the golf course across from the Michigan stadium for decades. And you can’t accuse Wolverines’ fans of lacking class. Two devoted Michigan ’gaters — their self-applied sobriquet — have been using silver goblets and decanters for their drinks for more than three decades, in the shadow of the country’s largest college football stadium.
Tailgating has existed as a non-competitive sport through much of the 20th century. But by the early 2000s, marketers had become serious about tapping into the spending power of the millions of people who gather in parking lots of sports stadiums every year to eat, drink and be merry. In 2004, a study commissioned by grillmaker Weber revealed that the average tailgater spent $576 annually on tailgating parties, while 18 percent spent $1,000 or more and some 6 percent spent more than $2,000. Notably, a survey by the makers of Jack Daniel’s found that a third of tailgaters don’t even attend the game. They stay in the parking lot and party.
That revelry can get out of hand, forcing some universities to curtail the activities on their campuses. Last year, a woman died during a tailgating event at the Harvard-Yale game, prompting Yale University to rethink its pre-game policies. According to news reports, she was hit by a U-Haul that was carrying beer kegs to a fraternity tailgate party.
Currently, no tailgating is allowed near the Super Bowl due to security concerns. But tailgating fans have claimed the new rule stems from the NFL’s desire to create corporate-sponsored parties — and charge for food and drink, instead of letting ’gaters bring their own. Bloggers have started petitions and campaigns to overturn the ban. Even so, this year, the Super Bowl is off limits to tailgaters — at least officially. But for ways around the ban, consult the self-proclaimed commissioner of tailgating, Joe Cahn. He can point you to places offering parking close to the Super Bowl — lots where tailgating is not only allowed but heartily encouraged.
Of course, if you can’t make it to Indianapolis, you can still partake in ’gating. Instead of taking the party on the road, just park the minivan in the backyard, pop up open rear door and have yourself an old fashioned home-gate. Beats a low wooden fence and a flask of whiskey, any day.
Fara Warner is a freelance writer and author of the book “The Power of the Purse: How Smart Companies Are Adapting to the World’s Most Important Consumers – Women.”
On Nov. 6, 1869, the two teams met on a field where the school’s gymnasium now stands in New Brunswick, N.J. There were 50 players — 25 to each team playing a game with rules more akin to rugby than modern football — and 100 spectators. Apparently, the Rutgers supporters, seeking to set themselves apart, wound scarlet-colored scarves around their heads. This may have been the one of the first times that college sports fans adorned themselves with their school colors, but it wouldn’t be the last.
Tailgating websites — yes, they exist, along with entire businesses devoted to making products designed for an event that some fans consider to be more important than the game itself — like to presume that spectators at the Princeton-Rutgers game may have tailgated on the back of wagons at that first game. But the official history has them sitting on a low wooden fence. There’s no mention of food or drink, critical elements to modern tailgating. But we can assume that the spectators may at least have brought a flask or two of strong liquor to keep warm on what was likely a chilly fall day. The game started at 3 p.m. and after it was finished the teams had an “amicable feed together,” according to a report in the Rutgers’ college newspaper: “At 8 o'clock our guests went home, in high good spirits, thirsting to beat us next time, if they can.” Rutgers won the game 6-4.
From these humble origins would come a pastime now seen by many as essential as the games it precedes. Credit a five-day, eight-hour-a-day work week with helping to speed along tailgating’s popularity. And, perhaps, Henry Ford. You can’t tailgate, after all, without a car, and Ford brought cars to the masses. In the early 20th century, families would load up their Model T trucks and head out to watch games. They would back the trucks in toward the field and drop the back gates to create a place to sit. They brought picnics or purchased food from local vendors. But these were not the highly planned, coordinated events we see today.
The makings of the modern tailgate, with its serious organization and potentially huge price tag — some people spend upwards of $25,000 on tailgating parties — goes back to the 1950s. As college football rivalries became increasingly embedded into American culture, universities such as the University of Mississippi began to set aside areas for pre- and post-game parties. Indeed, one of the best-known tailgates happens at the “Grove” in Oxford, Miss., home of the University of Mississippi. Ole Miss has a legendary football program, which included a starting quarterback in the late 1960s by the name of Archie Manning — whose son Eli is quarterbacking today for the New York Giants. On home game days, the 10-acre lawn studded with magnolia, oak and elm trees fills up with tents in the school colors of cardinal and navy — and tables bedecked with linen, fine china and silverware.
Such elegance is harder to find off the Ole Miss campus. The basic tailgate — north, south, east and west — is more likely to include lawn chairs, grills, plastic coolers, ribs, burgers, hot dogs, the occasional fried turkey and lots of beer, consumed through rounds of beer-pong or otherwise. Tailgaters at the University of Michigan, however, split the difference, with many buying mobile homes and outfitting them with fancy kitchens and external flat-screen televisions. Fans of the Wolverines have been gathering at the golf course across from the Michigan stadium for decades. And you can’t accuse Wolverines’ fans of lacking class. Two devoted Michigan ’gaters — their self-applied sobriquet — have been using silver goblets and decanters for their drinks for more than three decades, in the shadow of the country’s largest college football stadium.
Tailgating has existed as a non-competitive sport through much of the 20th century. But by the early 2000s, marketers had become serious about tapping into the spending power of the millions of people who gather in parking lots of sports stadiums every year to eat, drink and be merry. In 2004, a study commissioned by grillmaker Weber revealed that the average tailgater spent $576 annually on tailgating parties, while 18 percent spent $1,000 or more and some 6 percent spent more than $2,000. Notably, a survey by the makers of Jack Daniel’s found that a third of tailgaters don’t even attend the game. They stay in the parking lot and party.
That revelry can get out of hand, forcing some universities to curtail the activities on their campuses. Last year, a woman died during a tailgating event at the Harvard-Yale game, prompting Yale University to rethink its pre-game policies. According to news reports, she was hit by a U-Haul that was carrying beer kegs to a fraternity tailgate party.
Currently, no tailgating is allowed near the Super Bowl due to security concerns. But tailgating fans have claimed the new rule stems from the NFL’s desire to create corporate-sponsored parties — and charge for food and drink, instead of letting ’gaters bring their own. Bloggers have started petitions and campaigns to overturn the ban. Even so, this year, the Super Bowl is off limits to tailgaters — at least officially. But for ways around the ban, consult the self-proclaimed commissioner of tailgating, Joe Cahn. He can point you to places offering parking close to the Super Bowl — lots where tailgating is not only allowed but heartily encouraged.
Of course, if you can’t make it to Indianapolis, you can still partake in ’gating. Instead of taking the party on the road, just park the minivan in the backyard, pop up open rear door and have yourself an old fashioned home-gate. Beats a low wooden fence and a flask of whiskey, any day.
Fara Warner is a freelance writer and author of the book “The Power of the Purse: How Smart Companies Are Adapting to the World’s Most Important Consumers – Women.”
