by Deborah Rieselman

Hundreds of University of Cincinnati students who spent Tuesday night, Oct. 2, in front of the Lindner Center waiting for Homecoming football tickets were surprised to find a few comforts of home. Some watched Internet TV shows on their laptops, thanks to UC Wireless. Some had dinner courtesy of head coach Brian Kelly, who delivered 30 pizzas. And 6 a.m. showers were unexpectedly provided by the sprinkler system — albeit cold and with availability limited to those who had unwittingly dozed off too close to the landscaping.

The rude awakening was certainly an effective alarm clock, even though no one rushed off for an 8 a.m. class. That hour, after all, was the magic time at which ticket windows opened for the Oct. 13, 2007, Louisville game.

In less than 8 minutes on Wednesday morning, student claims on 1,000 electronic tickets had been exhausted via the Internet. An hour later, 500 student guest passes had been bought in person, leaving only 3,750 single student tickets available. At 3 p.m., a line of students still stretched nearly to Corry Boulevard, each seeking to claim a solitary ticket.

No scene, however, compared to the 1,500 bleary-eyed students who anxiously waited at 7:59 a.m. Wrapped in blankets and excitement, they formed an orderly line that snaked around the Lindner plaza and through the adjacent turf-covered Sheakley Lawn.

Truly prepared students had shown up as early as 5 p.m. on Tuesday night, setting up tents, cots and sleeping bags. More spontaneous students simply spent the night in chairs, and the totally impulsive variety had nothing more than flimsy blankets to shield their bodies from hard concrete.

Most carried water bottles. Many brought footballs to toss around, and a few lugged guitars and pets for entertainment.

The lucky ones, like third-year student Derek Horning, had friends willing to pull all-nighters, then give up their tickets afterward. Public tickets had sold out by late September, and because each student was permitted to buy only two guest tickets, Horning depended upon others' generosity to get tickets for his eight family members in Coldwater, Ohio.

His three roommates accompanied him for more than 14 hours to claim their prizes, then handed them over to him. Farther back in line, freshman Krista Kirievich waited with her mother, Carol Ann, who wanted to sit with her at the game. Other students bought tickets for friends who were out of town on co-op assignments.

No one publicly admitted intentions to scalp tickets, but many students grumbled that they had heard comments that it was happening. Prior to Wednesday, public tickets had already shown up on Web sites for $60 to $80.

Ticket campouts and scalpers are new to Bearcat football, which hasn’t seen such fan support since the 1950s when Sid Gillman was the coach. At the time of of this article, the Bearcats were 5-0 and ranked 20th, the first time they had hit the polls since 1976.

Campouts are also expected for the remaining home games, said assistant ticket manager Greg Harrell. “This is crazy when you put it in perspective of the difference between this year and last year. We’re pumped, and we’re having fun.”

He managed to utter those words even after spending the night in the ticket office — "just in case something happened." Nothing did, but extra security forces had been patrolling the area all night as a precaution.

His only complaint? "I slept on a massage table, and I didn't even get a massage. I got ripped off."

Links:

GoBearcats.com

ESPN's coverage of camp out (2007)