A Message for the Boo-ers: Booooo
Do you think the guy who just fumbled or missed a dunk or struck out will go that much harder the next time because of your vocalizations?
Loyal. Passionate. Geeked. Engaged. Obsessed. There are a lot of ways to describe the Florida Gator fan base.
Patient isn’t one of them.
This is the SEC, where coaches are on top of the world one glorious night with confetti falling, and unemployed within 24 months. It’s no different from other Power 5 conference fans. It’s just angrier. The more impatient they get, the more steam comes out of the ears. And they have no problem showing it.
We saw it in Knoxville, where the game had to be stopped because fans littered the field with everything from golf balls to mustard bottles. That was hardly the first time I saw an SEC game stopped because fans lost their minds.
But most fans have a more refined way of showing their displeasure.
They boo.
Oh, they boo a lot, and we understand a good part of it. You always boo the other team when they run onto the field before the game. Shoot, they even booed Steve Spurrier on the field that would eventually be named for him. Of course, he was coaching South Carolina at the time, so he was the enemy.
The idea is to let the opponent know this: You’re on the road; almost everyone in this stadium wants you to fail; and we’re going to do everything we can to contribute to a long bus ride home. Boooooo!
Certainly, officials get booed in this conference. You can get hoarse if you boo every bad call. With instant replay, you get to boo twice.
That booing is just part of the game — something that was not a part of the game when football started in the 1800s. The art of booing is a 20th century invention, and it evolved organically. But, for the life of me, there are times when I don’t get it.
Why would you ever boo your own players? It happens way too much. Let us not forget there’s a tradition at UF where former athletes, wearing yellow shirts and orange-and-blue ties, lead the antiquated “Two Bits” cheer. The reason THAT happens is George Edmondson heard the boos in 1949. The Tampa insurance salesman was invited to a game and heard Gators getting booed in their own stadium. So he spent the day running around the stadium leading cheers, and became an iconic figure in Florida football history.
Not that people stopped booing.
The question I often ask fans who boo their own players is, “What good does it do?” Do you think because the coach chose the quarterback you would not have chosen, your booing will help change his mind? Do you think recruits in the stands hear boos cascading down from the cheap seats and think, “Yeah, I want to go where they boo you if you drop a pass?” Do you think the guy who just fumbled or missed a dunk or struck out will go that much harder the next time?
Emory Jones’ mom became so uncomfortable with boos and criticism directed at her son she almost stopped going to games. Don’t think for a second this is an isolated incident. I hear, “Hey, we aren’t booing the players. We’re booing the coaches.”
Yes, coaches make a lot of money — although the way we’re headed like a runaway train toward a pay-for-play model there soon might not be much difference between players’ paychecks and the coaches. But unless you are capable of running onto the field to explain to players that you aren’t booing them, you’re booing the people making decisions, they’re equating the boos to their performances.
In 2006, the year Florida won its second national championship, Florida was beating Kentucky at home. Freshman Tim Tebow made a couple long runs late in the game, and was pulled for Chris Leak as the Gators got near the end zone. The boos were loud and ridiculous. I get that everybody was — and is — in love with Tebow. Keep in mind, Tebow is white; Leak is Black. That wasn’t a good look for Gator fans.
It was more than the racial part of it. It was fans booing their starting quarterback, who would finish his career with the most passing yards of anyone in UF history. That was a hard pill for Leak to swallow. When he and I talked about it years later, I gave him the tired rationale that they were booing the coaches, not him. “Yeah, but weren’t they booing the coaches for putting me in the game?” Leak asked.
Well, yeah. And that’s the thing.
When you purchase a ticket, you have the right to boo. You don’t have the right to throw things on the field or streak or curse. Boo the umps. Boo the replay guy. Boo the other team.
But booing your own?
It just doesn’t make any sense.
Sportswriter Pat Dooley (BSJ ’76) covered the Gators for The Gainesville Sun for 33 years until his retirement in 2020. He still shares his love for Gator sports through his podcast, “Another Dooley Noted,” and WRUF radio program, “Dooley’s Back 9.”
Published
February 18, 2022
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