The Most I’ve Felt in a Long Time…and It Wasn’t Due to CU Football

I like to think of it as self-preservation.  

I don’t like to watch things that are designed to make me feel too much.  My favorite teams’ playoff games?  Can’t do it live.  The anxiety, the dread, the stomach-churning sense that everything is about to go wrong — I can’t do it.  I skip it. I wait for the final score.  If my team wins, I’ll devour the replay and break it down like I’m reviewing the Zapruder film.  If they lose?  Well, good thing I didn’t voluntarily sign up for 3 hours of existential doom.

Movies are the same.  My wife has been begging me to watch the apparently transcendent documentary about Andrea Gibson, Come See Me in the Good Light.  I know it’s going to be gorgeous and honest and emotionally seismic, which is exactly why I refuse to press play^[1].  I’d rather watch TaskMaster UK or a Ted Talk or Marques Brownlee on YouTube.  Information without emotion.  Clean, safe, unthreatening.  

So when I walked into Prentup Field on Friday night for CU’s first-round NCAA tournament match against Utah Valley, I wasn’t expecting much, really.  A pleasant evening.  Maybe a couple decent photos and enough of a story for a BuffsBlog bite.  Certainly, I didn’t expect to become the guy white-knuckling bleachers, hoarse and trembling while CU’s gritty, relentless women dragged me – against my will and better judgment – through two overtimes and every emotional state I typically try to avoid.  

We got to Prentup Field 45 minutes early, which I assumed meant we’d have our pick of seats and a leisurely stroll to the bleachers.  Wrong.  We slid into one of the last parking spaces in the lot south of the field and walked in to find the stands already two-thirds full.  

We squeezed into a sliver of space on the metal bleachers and settled in.  CU, the number 3 seed in the region, was facing the number 14 seed, Utah Valley.  Always curious, and occasionally judgmental, I googled Utah Valley.  A massive school in Orem, Utah with 40,000 students (!), a 100% acceptance rate (!), and a school that is probably best known for being the location where Charlie Kirk was shot and killed.  

I reassured myself that the Buffs should handle the Wolverines (thanks, google) just fine.  

The opening minutes were calm enough.  A little tension here, a little investment there, but nothing I couldn’t emotionally detach from if needed.  

And then Utah Valley scored five minutes in.

Ruby Hladek beat a CU defender to the end line, squared a left-footed pass back to the top of the 18, and Bailey Peterson one-touched the ball past CU’s 3x All-Big 12 goalkeeper, Jordan Nytes.  Clinical.  Shit.  1-0 Wolverines.  

So much for detachment. 

For a moment, Prentup Field went quiet.  And then a surprisingly large contingent of Utah Valley fans, many dressed head-to-toe in green, started up. “U-V-U!  U-V-U!  U-V-U!”  Unimaginative and, unfortunately, effective.  They kept it going for most of the night.   And somewhere, in that moment, I discovered a new, unwanted emotional state: I was deeply committed to silencing Utah Valley’s obnoxious traveling fans.  

Utah Valley earned their noise.  Their midfield was sharp and quick to every ball, carrying the game to CU.  Utah Valley’s Faith Webber, the NCAA’s leading goal scorer on the season, had 8 shots in the game.  For long stretches, the Wolverines dictated the tempo.

But in the 39^th minute, CU freshman Vivi Zacarias staunched the bleeding.  A deflected cross popped loose in the box, and Zacarias pounced, driving the ball into the net.  1-1.

The teams remained deadlocked until a routine backpass to Utah Valley goalkeeper Leah Wolf.  CU’s all-everything forward Hope Leyba relentlessly pressed Wolf.  The goalie tried to clear the ball.  The ball, however, smashed off Leyba’s face and rolled into the goal.  2-1 Buffs!!

Except…no.  The official called a handball on Leyba.

I absolutely lost my mind. It was a horrible call, and even the Utah Valley faithful knew the ball careened off Leyba’s face and not her hands.  CU’s coaching staff was apoplectic and drew a yellow card for dissent.  The stands buzzed with disbelief.

And that was it.  That was the moment any remaining emotional distance I had evaporated into the night sky.  I was fully, irrevocably in.  

Damn it.

The game continued back and forth.  Utah Valley’s midfield outplayed CU’s midfield but CU was better up front and in the back, largely due to the towering presence of the Leyba sisters.  Hope, she of the ball off the face, is a soon-to-be All American forward that combines strength and speed with relentlessness.  Faith, her twin sister and an All Big-12 centerback, is a towering defender that purists believe might be CU’s best player. She saves CU’s bacon time and time again (bookmark this sentence).

CU outshot Utah Valley 28-21, but the Wolverines held an 8-7 advantage in shots on goal.  The Buffs had 12 corner kicks to UVU’s 11.  The game was tight and was deadlocked after 90 minutes of regulation.

Overtime in a knockout tournament is not something that my body was designed to withstand.  My stomach was in knots, and the Utah Valley fans were still droning on with their “U-V-U!” chant, which had evolved from annoying to a full-blown psychological operation.

The first 10-minute overtime felt like holding your breath for 10 minutes.  Every CU attack looked promising until it suddenly wasn’t.  Every Utah Valley attack shaved a month off my life.  And the biggest save of the overtime period didn’t come from goalkeeper Jordan Nytes, but instead it came from defender Faith Leyba. Leyba, who was battling cramps and could barely move, somehow cleared a shot in the 95^th minute that slipped behind Nytes and was rolling toward the goal line.

This is not good for my health.

As the 1st overtime wound down, the ball dropped perfectly to CU’s Vivi Zacarias in the box.  She struck the ball cleanly – rising hope — and it smashed the left goalpost.  Seconds later, the buzzer sounded.  End of the 1st overtime. 

I genuinely wasn’t sure I could do another.  Win or go home.  Season on the line.  My stomach barely hanging on. 

When the 2^nd overtime started, I briefly considered leaving early.  

“Beat the traffic,” my anxious stomach whispered.  

“There is no traffic,” my wife and actual brain responded.

I was trapped.

The second overtime began with Utah Valley pressing CU.  Faith Webber took two early shots in the period.  CU responded with a pair of corners.  The second one, served from Boulder native Ava Priest, was cleared out….but Priest chased it down, gathered it, and lifted it back into the Wolverines’ box.  

Regan Kotschau saw it before anyone else did.

From about 15 yards out, the CU midfielder broke into a full sprint.  She closed on the ball and fearlessly (recklessly? beautifully?) dived headfirst into the path of the ball.  She headed the ball just in front of the Utah Valley goalkeeper, and the ball landed in the net.

BALLGAME.

Pandemoniun.  I shot up from the bleacher and screamed in excitement.  The players bolted toward Kotschau and a giant dogpile ensued.  The “U-V-U!” chant stopped immediately.  Fans hugged strangers.  The cold Boulder night suddenly felt warm.  The players then rushed into the crowd, and there were tears of joy and high-fives and hugs for all. 

And I had I survived.  CU survived. 

When the adrenaline finally eased, I realized I hadn’t watched a soccer match.  I was dragged into it. Against my will.  Against my carefully curated emotional prophylaxis.  These women – gritty, relentless, fearless – pulled me into the deep end and made me feel everything I try so hard to avoid.

Colorado advances to play 22^nd ranked Xavier on Thursday at 1 pm in East Lansing, Michigan.  The game will be televised on ESPN+.  

And I just might watch the game live.

---

^[1] I was strong-armed into watching the documentary on Apple TV.  It is transcendent.  Watch it. 

---

If you want to read more in the BuffsBlog blogosphere, check out this post about things you can feel at a D2 football game:

A Saturday Under the Smaller Lights: What I Found at a D2 Game That is Sometimes Missing in Boulder