Cannon Game Sucker Punched
I don’t typically write much of anything on Rebel-net, and I haven’t posted anything at all in quite a long time. It has been over two weeks now, but I thought I would share my experience of going up north to the Battle of the Fremont Cannon game.
My day started off great and the weather was perfect for a college football game. I was excited, anxious, and ready for the game to start—but first, it was time for some tailgating. It was my first time traveling up north for a UNLV football game so I was eager to experience the atmosphere. I had previously gone up twice for basketball games, in which I had a 2-0 record of not blindly getting punched in the face. The BBQ’s were hot and the beers were cold, and I was hanging out with friends that graduated from UNR at a tailgate party with their friends. Corn hole, ladder golf, beer pong, food, music, and a pigskin to toss around—all of the typical tailgate necessities.
Friends and acquaintances have always recommended and advised me to not go up north for the football game. I had heard stories of UNLV fans getting full cans of beer and soda thrown at them, older Rebel fans getting cursed at for no reason other than wearing scarlet and grey and Reno fans starting fights for no reason. But I felt like we had a good shot at winning back the Fremont Cannon this year, so I decided I was going to attend my first football game at Mackay Stadium. At the tailgate, everyone was surprisingly nice compared to all of the stories I had heard. Rebel fans were obviously outnumbered by all of the Wolf Pack faithful, but I had some great conversations with many different UNR fans.
Atlas, it was 40 minutes until the game started, so I wanted to head inside the stadium to catch the kickoff. There were people everywhere—you could tell it was really close to a sellout—and after waiting approximately 20 minutes to get through security, I was finally inside. It was time to find my seat and get settled in, but little did I know my day was about to be ruined.
While walking onto the bleachers I took a quick look around the stadium, as this was my first time there. Next to me was an older lady who looked about 60 years old; I showed her my ticket and asked her if she knew where my section was. She pointed to the opposite side of the field and stated, “I’m not positive but I believe it’s over on that side.” It was at that time I heard someone to my right yell “FUNLV!” (and no, not the abbreviation) so naturally I looked just to see what idiot was yelling this profanity. Before I could even turn my head to look and see, I felt a solid punch to the right side of my face, making perfect contact with my cheek and nose. By the time I could look back over in the direction of the assaulter all I saw was a 25 to 35 year old male adult running away. My next instinct was to look around for security or police, as the rivalry games at Sam Boyd Stadium have so much security and police presence it’s almost crazy.
I couldn’t believe what just happened; the game hadn’t even started yet! I wasn’t talking to this guy or doing anything to piss someone off, and I just get sucker punched—blindsided right in face. The older lady standing next to me asked if I was okay, to which I responded that I was. However, she informed me that I was bleeding everywhere and she thought I needed to go see the paramedics.
Four UNR fans were nice enough to give statements and descriptions of the subject to the police, but they all stated that he ran and left the stadium—and security and police never did find him. I spent the entire first half with the paramedics and police, getting medical attention and providing my statement. The paramedics helped to get the bleeding to stop and confirmed that my nose was broken. I kept asking what the score was, as I couldn’t even see the field or the scoreboard from where we were at. The paramedics told me I should probably go to the hospital, but I wasn’t in much pain and by this time the Rebels were up 13-0. I told them I could just go to the doctor when I got back to Vegas and then they released me. There was blood everywhere, my face, my number 18 UNLV jersey, my legs, my shoes. I was a mess, so I got a ride back to my friend’s house real quick to clean myself up. I washed the blood out of my jersey, washed my face, and got situated so I could get back to Mackay Stadium and watch our Rebels win back the Fremont Cannon. I was able to watch the majority of the fourth quarter, and well, the rest is history. The Cannon is once again Rebel Red.
I went to the doctor when I got back to Vegas and sure enough the X-rays showed it was broken. Unexpected medical bills, black eyes for about two weeks, and potentially a scar on the bridge of my nose, all thanks to some moron in Reno that decided to punch me. Rebel fans always talk about how they hate Reno, and I have always said the same, but now I have a stronger hatred for the school up north. Go Rebels!
I don’t typically write much of anything on Rebel-net, and I haven’t posted anything at all in quite a long time. It has been over two weeks now, but I thought I would share my experience of going up north to the Battle of the Fremont Cannon game.
My day started off great and the weather was perfect for a college football game. I was excited, anxious, and ready for the game to start—but first, it was time for some tailgating. It was my first time traveling up north for a UNLV football game so I was eager to experience the atmosphere. I had previously gone up twice for basketball games, in which I had a 2-0 record of not blindly getting punched in the face. The BBQ’s were hot and the beers were cold, and I was hanging out with friends that graduated from UNR at a tailgate party with their friends. Corn hole, ladder golf, beer pong, food, music, and a pigskin to toss around—all of the typical tailgate necessities.
Friends and acquaintances have always recommended and advised me to not go up north for the football game. I had heard stories of UNLV fans getting full cans of beer and soda thrown at them, older Rebel fans getting cursed at for no reason other than wearing scarlet and grey and Reno fans starting fights for no reason. But I felt like we had a good shot at winning back the Fremont Cannon this year, so I decided I was going to attend my first football game at Mackay Stadium. At the tailgate, everyone was surprisingly nice compared to all of the stories I had heard. Rebel fans were obviously outnumbered by all of the Wolf Pack faithful, but I had some great conversations with many different UNR fans.
Atlas, it was 40 minutes until the game started, so I wanted to head inside the stadium to catch the kickoff. There were people everywhere—you could tell it was really close to a sellout—and after waiting approximately 20 minutes to get through security, I was finally inside. It was time to find my seat and get settled in, but little did I know my day was about to be ruined.
While walking onto the bleachers I took a quick look around the stadium, as this was my first time there. Next to me was an older lady who looked about 60 years old; I showed her my ticket and asked her if she knew where my section was. She pointed to the opposite side of the field and stated, “I’m not positive but I believe it’s over on that side.” It was at that time I heard someone to my right yell “FUNLV!” (and no, not the abbreviation) so naturally I looked just to see what idiot was yelling this profanity. Before I could even turn my head to look and see, I felt a solid punch to the right side of my face, making perfect contact with my cheek and nose. By the time I could look back over in the direction of the assaulter all I saw was a 25 to 35 year old male adult running away. My next instinct was to look around for security or police, as the rivalry games at Sam Boyd Stadium have so much security and police presence it’s almost crazy.
I couldn’t believe what just happened; the game hadn’t even started yet! I wasn’t talking to this guy or doing anything to piss someone off, and I just get sucker punched—blindsided right in face. The older lady standing next to me asked if I was okay, to which I responded that I was. However, she informed me that I was bleeding everywhere and she thought I needed to go see the paramedics.
Four UNR fans were nice enough to give statements and descriptions of the subject to the police, but they all stated that he ran and left the stadium—and security and police never did find him. I spent the entire first half with the paramedics and police, getting medical attention and providing my statement. The paramedics helped to get the bleeding to stop and confirmed that my nose was broken. I kept asking what the score was, as I couldn’t even see the field or the scoreboard from where we were at. The paramedics told me I should probably go to the hospital, but I wasn’t in much pain and by this time the Rebels were up 13-0. I told them I could just go to the doctor when I got back to Vegas and then they released me. There was blood everywhere, my face, my number 18 UNLV jersey, my legs, my shoes. I was a mess, so I got a ride back to my friend’s house real quick to clean myself up. I washed the blood out of my jersey, washed my face, and got situated so I could get back to Mackay Stadium and watch our Rebels win back the Fremont Cannon. I was able to watch the majority of the fourth quarter, and well, the rest is history. The Cannon is once again Rebel Red.
I went to the doctor when I got back to Vegas and sure enough the X-rays showed it was broken. Unexpected medical bills, black eyes for about two weeks, and potentially a scar on the bridge of my nose, all thanks to some moron in Reno that decided to punch me. Rebel fans always talk about how they hate Reno, and I have always said the same, but now I have a stronger hatred for the school up north. Go Rebels!