BleedGopher
Well-known member
- Joined
- Nov 11, 2008
- Messages
- 62,135
- Reaction score
- 18,641
- Points
- 113
per SI:
As college football prepares to crown its latest champion, the game is facing a much bigger question than Clemson or LSU: namely, why are crowds at stadiums across the country shrinking? University administrators have tried fix after fix—but without ever diagnosing a root cause beyond 'kids these days.' To get to the heart of the problem, we set out on a journey across the college football landscape.
It’s a few hours before Florida hosts Vanderbilt, and hundreds of fans are hovering around the statues of Tim Tebow, Steve Spurrier and Danny Wuerffel that grace Ben Hill Griffin Stadium. Some pose for photos and then linger, as though hoping the school’s Heisman Trophy winners might unbend their bronze arms and offer benedictions. Tebow was 23 when his monument went up in 2011—too young to rent a car without added fees, but old enough to be canonized. Like religion, college football is full of miracles, steeped in nostalgia and not extremely logical.
I make my way through the picture-takers and around the curved walls of the stadium, passing tailgates set up under blue and orange tents. One lot is particularly packed, with fans pressed up against a rope-line running down its middle. Cheers erupt when coach Dan Mullen and his team parade through on their way to the locker room. The players high-five fans who’ve gotten close to them, the football gods. It’s game day in Gainesville.
As I enter the stadium a few minutes before kickoff, the audio system rumbles through the cement pillars and I’m ready for an overwhelming surge of energy. But when I make it out into the open air, the first thing I notice are empty metal bleachers reflecting rays of bright Florida sun. While the alumni section I’m standing in is filled, the top third of the student section opposite me is mostly empty, a scatter-plot weighted toward the bottom. I was expecting the frenzied vibe of a rave; what I’ve got is more of a buzzy mimosa brunch.
But in the press box, Tyler Nettuno, a reporter for the school’s student newspaper, The Alligator, is pleasantly surprised. “It’s a way better crowd than I thought it would be at kickoff,” he says, looking out at the fans. More students show up during the first quarter, but there are still empty rows. The general admission seats above both end zones are patchy, too. “For a 12 o’clock game,” Nettuno continues, “this is the best I’ve seen it.”
If this is the best, that’s not great for the Gators. After all, this is Florida football at the one and only Swamp. Almost every billboard along the highway leading to town is blue and orange. Alligators adorn special edition license plates. The whole town seems to know the words to "We Are The Boys From Old Florida." SEC football has been the lifeblood of this place. I am standing in a house of worship for a Saturday sermon.
But fans aren’t showing up the way they used to. Average attendance in 2018 was the lowest it’s been for Florida since 1990. While the ’19 season saw an uptick of about 2,000 fans per game—for an average of 84,684 in a 91,916-capacity stadium—attendance has still fallen nearly 6% over five years.
www.si.com
Go Gophers!!
As college football prepares to crown its latest champion, the game is facing a much bigger question than Clemson or LSU: namely, why are crowds at stadiums across the country shrinking? University administrators have tried fix after fix—but without ever diagnosing a root cause beyond 'kids these days.' To get to the heart of the problem, we set out on a journey across the college football landscape.
It’s a few hours before Florida hosts Vanderbilt, and hundreds of fans are hovering around the statues of Tim Tebow, Steve Spurrier and Danny Wuerffel that grace Ben Hill Griffin Stadium. Some pose for photos and then linger, as though hoping the school’s Heisman Trophy winners might unbend their bronze arms and offer benedictions. Tebow was 23 when his monument went up in 2011—too young to rent a car without added fees, but old enough to be canonized. Like religion, college football is full of miracles, steeped in nostalgia and not extremely logical.
I make my way through the picture-takers and around the curved walls of the stadium, passing tailgates set up under blue and orange tents. One lot is particularly packed, with fans pressed up against a rope-line running down its middle. Cheers erupt when coach Dan Mullen and his team parade through on their way to the locker room. The players high-five fans who’ve gotten close to them, the football gods. It’s game day in Gainesville.
As I enter the stadium a few minutes before kickoff, the audio system rumbles through the cement pillars and I’m ready for an overwhelming surge of energy. But when I make it out into the open air, the first thing I notice are empty metal bleachers reflecting rays of bright Florida sun. While the alumni section I’m standing in is filled, the top third of the student section opposite me is mostly empty, a scatter-plot weighted toward the bottom. I was expecting the frenzied vibe of a rave; what I’ve got is more of a buzzy mimosa brunch.
But in the press box, Tyler Nettuno, a reporter for the school’s student newspaper, The Alligator, is pleasantly surprised. “It’s a way better crowd than I thought it would be at kickoff,” he says, looking out at the fans. More students show up during the first quarter, but there are still empty rows. The general admission seats above both end zones are patchy, too. “For a 12 o’clock game,” Nettuno continues, “this is the best I’ve seen it.”
If this is the best, that’s not great for the Gators. After all, this is Florida football at the one and only Swamp. Almost every billboard along the highway leading to town is blue and orange. Alligators adorn special edition license plates. The whole town seems to know the words to "We Are The Boys From Old Florida." SEC football has been the lifeblood of this place. I am standing in a house of worship for a Saturday sermon.
But fans aren’t showing up the way they used to. Average attendance in 2018 was the lowest it’s been for Florida since 1990. While the ’19 season saw an uptick of about 2,000 fans per game—for an average of 84,684 in a 91,916-capacity stadium—attendance has still fallen nearly 6% over five years.
Why Is College Football Attendance Tanking?
To get to the heart of the problem, we set out on a journey across the sport's landscape.
www.si.com
Go Gophers!!
