Why Iowa State?

My decision to be an Iowa State fan really makes no sense.

In the fall of 1997, I was 10 years old. Iowa State was preparing to host Iowa in the annual CyHawk game. The Cyclones were, to put it mildly, a poor football team. Heading into the game, they were 0-3 and had been outscored by a combined 130-53. 

The Hawkeyes, meanwhile, under the direction of legendary coach Hayden Fry, were 2-0 and had outscored their opponents 120-16. They were led by human highlight reel Tim Dwight and star running back Tavian Banks, who just a week prior had rushed for a school-record 314 yards against Tulsa. Iowa entered the game ranked #13 in the country. 

The seasons so far had been a microcosm of everything I knew in my young life about Iowa State and Iowa football. It was cool to be a Hawkeye fan. My brother and dad were Hawkeye fans. Most people I knew who followed sports were Hawkeye fans. The Hawkeyes went to bowl games. 70,000 people attended their games. 

Suffice to say it was not cool to be an Iowa State fan, and I didn’t even know that many Iowa State fans. Looking back years later, I would put money on the fact that I was the biggest Iowa State fan in my class in school from middle school on (as if you could measure such a thing). There just weren’t that many of us. What my 10-year-old self knew is that Iowa State was largely irrelevant. The Cyclones didn’t win much. They didn’t go to bowl games. The one good thing they had going for them was Heisman contender Troy Davis, who rushed for 2,000 yards in back-to-back seasons in 1995 and 1996. Even still, Iowa State was 3-8 and 2-10 those two years, and Davis was snubbed for the award that he likely deserved to win.

I could go on, but you get the point. Being an Iowa fan was cool. Being an Iowa State fan was uncool.

I didn’t watch much football before that season, but for some reason I was into it when that season began. Just one week prior to the 1997 Iowa vs. Iowa State game, I had gone to my first ever major sporting event — the aforementioned Iowa vs. Tulsa game. My dad surprised me the day before the game. I was shocked by the amount of people jammed into Kinnick Stadium and the roar of the crowd for a big play. I’ll never forget just how loud it sounded the first time the entire crowd cheered. It reminded young me of a jet engine. It’s an experience you can almost never replicate again. 

Any logical thinking would lead you to the conclusion that I was set to be a Hawkeye fan for life. And yet, just hours before that 1997 CyHawk game, something stirred inside of me. Just two weeks before the Iowa vs. Tulsa game that attended, I had sat down and watched Iowa State for the first time in my life. The Cyclones played Oklahoma State. They lost, 21-14, and there’s really nothing remarkable about the game. All I remember is that it was close, it was back-and-forth, and I could feel through the television how badly the Jack Trice Stadium crowd wanted that game. I remember late in the game, an OSU player missed a field goal while the game was still tied. I remember seeing a few Iowa State fans in the background, on a lift or platform or something up near the scoreboard, jumping up and down, the roar of the crowd in the background. That prompted me to jump up and down myself in our living room. The passion resonated with me. 

And so, as the CyHawk game came on the air on ABC — a big deal in those days — I found myself inexplicably pulling for Iowa State. I’m pretty sure I even used magic marker to draw a makeshift “tattoo” on my hand, to mimic the children they sometimes show at the beginning of a broadcast wearing a temporary tattoo of the logo or mascot on their cheek. 

It didn’t hurt that my brother, seven years older than me, was actually at the game. Had he been home I’m almost sure he would have talked me out of it. “Knock it off. You don’t want to cheer for Iowa State,” he would have said. But there I was, cheering for the Cyclones. And there was Iowa’s Tavian Banks, running for an 82-yard touchdown on the opening drive for Iowa. And Tim Dwight scoring three touchdowns. Iowa 63, Iowa State 20. 

Still, I was now an Iowa State fan and an Iowa fan. But an Iowa State fan first. 

As I began looking at colleges during my senior year at Pella High School, the choice became obvious. I wanted to go to a big school, and I wanted to go to a school that had major college football. A tuba player in the band all through high school, I once had the opportunity to see the Iowa State marching band play to cap off the band competition at Ankeny High School. I thought they were awesome, and so rarely did I get the chance to show off in front of my high school classmates, but this was my moment. As the band marched off the field and played the fight song, I sang along. Every word. I felt like I belonged, like I was part of something bigger, somehow linked to the handful of other Cyclone fans in the audience that were clapping and singing along. That experience stuck in my mind as I was making my final college decision. I wanted to play in a college marching band. I wanted to go to the school I had grown up cheering for.

I played in the Iowa State Cyclone Football “Varsity” Marching Band (also known as the “ISUCF’V’MB”) for four years. Every home game was a marathon of a day. We were always among the last people out of the stadium, win or lose, rain or shine. After a year of living out-of-state post-graduation, I moved back to Iowa in 2010, and I have had season tickets ever since. I only missed four home games between 2010 – 2019. Which, now that I type it, I’m a little embarrassed the number is that high.

It’s one thing to say I’m an Iowa State fan and I go to the games. I think that’s underselling it a little bit. I am a superfan. I can often remember specific details from specific games dating back 10 years, 20 years in some cases. I can remember where I watched the game, and even piece together life events based on when a game happened. For example, I can remember that the first time I hung out with my now-wife one-on-one was the night before the Iowa State at Texas Tech game in 2015. 

Simply put, being a Cyclone is part of my identity.

It’s not just football. I have season tickets to men’s basketball. I follow the women’s basketball team closely. I have long been involved in the Iowa State Daily. The ISUCF’V’MB will always be in my heart. I always find a connection with fellow Greenlee School of Journalism graduates.

But Iowa State football is probably the most obvious flashpoint of where my Cyclone spirit shines. Sure, I enjoy the sport, but it’s about so much more than that. 

My Cyclone football fandom involves pulling into the tailgate lots when they open six hours before the game. Yes, that is 5 a.m. for an 11 a.m. kickoff.  I tailgate with a group of fellow diehards, many of whom I knew from marching band in college. There is a group of at least 15 of us who are there nearly every week, and more who join for big games, homecoming, etc. Some of them are among my closest and most trusted friends in the world. Some of them I really only see during the season. I love all of them. Cyclone football brings us together, and there’s something beautiful about that.

Usually around an hour before the game, I start getting antsy. This is a critical period to make sure we enjoy one last drink, finish up grilling our breakfast/lunch/dinner, pack up our coolers and begin the walk across the street to the stadium. Long ago, it was my goal to be in my seat before the marching band took the field for its pregame show. I have since learned that trying to get others in their seats by that time can be a challenge when there is more tailgating to be done. 

Still, for the big games, everyone goes in a little early. As the stadium fills up, the marching band comes on. The first time they play the fight song, everyone stands and claps in unison as the band marches down the field, except this time instead of hundreds of people in a high school stadium it is thousands in a major college stadium. Anticipation builds during the national anthem. Then the band leads our now-patented chant: The east side of the stadium yells “CY-CLONE!” in unison. The west side answers “PO-WER!” 

After they play the fight song one more time to a nearly full stadium, the band takes a back seat to the video board. A short pump-up highlight video plays, followed by one of, in my opinion, the most unique introductions in college football: The Cyclone Weather Alert. A National Weather Service-like voice speaks to the crowd. “This is a Cyclone Weather Alert. Ladies and gentlemen, radar has indicated a strong storm approaching MidAmerican Energy Field at Jack Trice Stadium. High winds and low visibility are expected. (Insert away team here) fans in the warned area should seek immediate cover.” This is paired with fake tornado sirens. 

And then… here comes Matt Campbell and the Cyclones. We see them on the video board coming out of the locker room toward the tunnel to enter the field. Kanye West’s “21st Century” blares as we clap in unison. (The intro song has changed over time, but for my money this is the best one we’ve had). 

The moments before kickoff may be the best moments of the day. The pregame anticipation hits a crescendo. The crowd is on its feet. The adrenaline is flowing. Nothing has gone wrong yet in the game. You are one with tens of thousands of people you don’t know. You all want the same thing — a Cyclone win. Nothing can ruin this moment.

Then, kickoff happens, and for the next 3+ hours I am a basketcase of emotions. The rest of the world stops. I don’t think about work emails or the errands I need to run tomorrow. I am totally, completely in the moment. 

If we win, my day is made. If we lose, I spend the next 24 hours coming to terms with it. On its face, it makes no sense. I have essentially no control over the game or what happens on the field. And yet, my mood, even my very pride, is affected by it.

The entire gameday is an experience that few things in life match. 

I’m sure a lot of fanbases can relate to these experiences, but there’s something special about ISU fans. Relatively speaking, the Cyclones have not had a lot of success. The fans, however, come out year after year. They pack Jack Trice Stadium. They love their Cyclones. For many people, it is a connection back to their alma mater (and I suspect this is truer for Iowa State fans than many fanbases). Cyclone football is a bond that connects them more than wins and losses. 

In recent years, it has been amazing to watch the fanbase grow. We can all remember years where a small but dedicated group of fans  — let’s say somewhere in the 25,000 – 35,000 range — showed up almost every week, but the quality of the team, or the weather, or the opponent, dictated whether Jack Trice Stadium was full even into the corners. Not to say that there aren’t still games that the stadium isn’t full, but since around 2011 there has been an increased interest. Rarely are there less than 50,000 paid fans in the stadium and a 2015 stadium addition pushed the capacity up to 61,500.

In 2011, a Paul Rhoads-led Iowa State team forever changed Jack Trice Stadium. A raucous September crowd watched the Cyclones defeat Iowa in triple overtime during the second game of the season. Then, on an unseasonably warm November Friday night, Iowa State shocked the college football world with an upset over undefeated No. 2 Oklahoma State. It was the first win over a top seven team in school history. Countless thousands of people rushed the field. Before that moment, few fans who ever attended games at Jack Trice believed Iowa State could win that type of game. Since then, we always have at least a twinge of belief. 

The Rhoads era didn’t end as anyone would have expected that evening in 2011, but the fan support grew enough to justify the stadium expansion. The Campbell era has increased fan interest to levels previously unseen. Iowa State fans are so grateful to have a winner. There is a sense that, given how amped up the gameday atmosphere already is, imagine how great it could be if Iowa State was a winning program playing for championships. You can’t tell me that Alabama, or Ohio State, or Texas, or any traditional big-name program, appreciates winning as much as Iowa State fans do.

Being an Iowa State fan is special. So many of us share memories beyond the wins and losses. We have a connection to the school, the campus and people we met along the way. We share a formative part of our lives with Iowa State. When the football team plays, it brings us back together. The players on the field are our peers in the sense that they are walking the same campus we used to walk. When they have success, we feel success by extension. And given Iowa State’s lack of success throughout history in football, big wins are sweeter. 

If I could go back to 1997 and do it again, I’d make the same decision.