But this day was different. My son had been born the previous winter. He was nine months old, so my wife was nursing. Nursing is one of those things that has come a long way out of the shadows. It's no longer hidden behind closed doors. There are all sorts of accoutrements and what-not to enable women who are nursing to live a normal SEC life, considering that a tiny human derives all nourishment from their boobs.
Being without the baby all day to go to the game means that mama starts to feel the pressure, so she has to bring along a breast pump in order to relieve it. No problem. You plug it into the generator or the cigarette lighter because of course you bring the adapter. Nobody has time for clogged milk ducts.
...
Pressure averted, the day went on. This was supposed to be a 2:30pm kickoff, but due to the significance of the potential national viewership, CBS negotiated future concessions with ESPN to broadcast this game at 7:00 - great for ad revenue, bad for boobs.
...
Meanwhile, I was doing the only thing I could do to help the #1 defense in the country when real life intervenes in SEC fandom.
I was nursing my wife.
She recalls me saying this while taking a break:
"Hm. That's warmer than I expected."
There I was, in the hospitality suite, in the family restroom, on my knees, suckling my wife. Class-attending, test-taking me could not believe this moment. It was a gameday experience beyond my wildest dreams.
In an altruistic effort to relieve my wife's pain, I did what I had to do. It was a sacrifice not to be in the stadium to cheer on the team for part of the 3rd quarter. Also wanting to get back to the game, she gave me tips and pointers on how to do it better & faster. When success was achieved, I peeked out the door and slipped away for a white cupcake with a red icing A on it. To avoid the walk of shame, about a minute later my wife came out free and clear, since the hospitality suite was basically empty given the preeminence of the game.