Chapter 209 207: Quiet Away Game
Ohio, situated in the east-north-central region of North America, is a key player in the continent's cross-country passenger and freight transport. It is also part of the Great Lakes Region, boasting a river transport volume more than double that of the Panama Canal. With its network of highways, railways, waterways, and airways, the state serves as one of North America's most vital transportation hubs. Ohio University even hosts a massive research center dedicated to transportation.
Historically, this land was a central region for Native Americans before immigrant populations gradually took over. Germans and the Irish were the pioneering settlers, which led to Protestants becoming the overwhelming religious majority. It is also worth noting that Ohio has the largest Amish population in the United States.
All this goes to show that this is a land of down-to-earth, freedom-loving people with a tough-as-nails attitude. In a rare exception for the generally conservative Midwest, Ohio is a stronghold for the Democratic Party.
Naturally, Ohio has become a popular home for countless sports teams: in baseball, the Cleveland Indians and the Cincinnati Reds; in basketball, the Cleveland Cavaliers; in hockey, the Columbus Blue Jackets; and in football, the Cleveland Browns and the Cincinnati Bengals.
The state has produced countless outstanding athletes and is home to innumerable passionate fans. The massive market for competitive sports has become an indispensable part of Ohio's economy and culture.
Cincinnati is a crucial piece of this puzzle. The city not only gave birth to the world's first professional baseball team but also boasts some of the most dedicated fans in the nation. Even when their teams' records fluctuate and they never quite reach the pinnacle of their sport, these fans remain loyal and unwavering in their support.
Cincinnati has four distinct seasons, and by September, the crisp autumn air was already palpable. The high, distant sky, wide-open views, fiery red maple leaves, and refreshing moisture in the air were all bathed in golden sunlight. A moist, light breeze brushed against your face, making you yearn to leave the indoors and fully enjoy the brisk autumn day out on the streets, in the parks, or in the wild.
It was only eight in the morning, and the temperature was a little low. A light breeze sent a wave of goosebumps across any exposed skin, but it wasn't unpleasantly cold. It was the kind of weather that made you want to spread your arms, stretch, and bask in the delightful comfort of the autumn sun.
"The weather here is amazing. Why does it feel a little warmer than San Francisco?" Jeff Locke's steps were incredibly light as he looked around with curiosity and excitement. This was his first time attending an NFL away game in person, and he couldn't help the thrill bubbling up inside him.
Danny Rice was also rubbing his hands together, his feet bouncing with eagerness. "Probably because the wind isn't as strong here, so it feels warmer. Besides, autumn is more distinct here. The weather's great!"
Danny, Jeff, and Nate had all met at UCLA. Through Lu Ke, they had become good friends. Now, here they were, traveling together to an away game to watch Lu Ke play. The bonds forged between fans were always so simple and interesting.
"Chris, what's up? Is something wrong?" Nate Chandler had noticed Chris Wilson, who was walking beside them, constantly scanning their surroundings. Nate followed his gaze. A growing tide of black, white, and orange jerseys flowed around them, and the game-day atmosphere was steadily growing more boisterous.
At that moment, they were walking along the wide, straight path leading from the parking lot to Paul Brown Stadium. They were accompanied by countless home fans of the Bengals. With two hours still to go before kickoff, the air was already buzzing with an exhilarating, tense excitement.
Chris's face was a mixture of curiosity and confusion. "You guys, pay attention for a sec. Is it just my imagination, or is it for real? Why do I feel like there aren't that many home fans? It feels kind of sparse, like there's no real atmosphere."
"Not many?" Jeff said in surprise. "How many fans can we even see right now? Ten thousand? Twenty thousand? It's a sea of people. Today's game is going to be a real test for Lu Ke."
"No, no, I'm serious." Chris pulled his gaze back to his friends. "Think back to Candlestick Park. The flood of spectators is way more intense than this. The crowd here doesn't seem dense at all. Plus, back in the parking lot, we found a spot immediately. How long did that take? Five minutes? Eight? That would be absolutely impossible on a game day at Candlestick Park."
Admittedly, the San Francisco 49ers home fans hadn't been the most supportive for the previous two games. Attendance hadn't reached one hundred percent for either, hovering around ninety to ninety-five percent, and they had left plenty of openings for away fans to take advantage of. Even so, the grand spectacle at Candlestick Park had still left a deep impression.
With Chris's reminder, Jeff and the others started to notice it too. The crowd here was certainly huge, but the difference compared to Candlestick Park was stark. Candlestick Park could hold around 70,000 people, while Paul Brown Stadium's capacity was 65,000. The two stadiums were in the same tier.
"Maybe... we're just too early?" Jeff offered as a possibility. "This is the Bengals' first home game of the new season. The Cincinnati fans wouldn't bail like this, would they?"
It was just like with the San Francisco 49ers. For the first game of the season, even though the fans were filled with distrust for Lu Ke and had countless complaints about the team, they still dutifully showed up on game day, filled the seats, and supported their team with their presence.
In their analysis of this matchup, every expert and commentator had stressed that home-field versus away-field was a crucial factor, especially for the two rookie quarterbacks. But if the Bengals' own fans didn't show up in force... were they just shooting themselves in the foot?
"Who knows," Danny said with a nonchalant shrug. "Anyway, I doubt there'll be too many 49ers fans here today either. Worst case, both the home and away crowds are dead. That's good news for us." His teasing tone made everyone laugh.
As they got closer to the stadium, the away-game atmosphere finally began to intensify. The shoulder-to-shoulder crowd was filled with the Bengals' black, white, and orange. Flashes of red and gold could be seen intermittently, but they were instantly swallowed by the sea of black and white, becoming indistinguishable. In the distance, a massive banner hung from the railings outside the stadium, proclaiming:
"NO JOE MONTANA THIS TIME!"
The provocative and mocking tone couldn't have been clearer. The Cincinnati Bengals had made it to the Super Bowl twice, lost to the San Francisco 49ers twice, and on both occasions, they had lost to a man named Joe Montana.
Joe Montana was the most famous, landmark figure in the history of the San Francisco 49ers. Of the team's five Super Bowl championships, four were won under his leadership, with the fifth being won with Steve Young at the helm.
Without a doubt, Montana was a standard-bearer not just for the 49ers but for the entire Alliance. He had locked down his spot in the Hall of Fame long before retiring and left an indelible mark on the sport's history. Countless quarterbacks had fallen in love with football because of him.
Among Montana's countless personal records, one stood out as nearly impossible to surpass: in four Super Bowl appearances, he made 122 pass attempts without a single interception, all while achieving a quarterback rating of 127.8 across those four games. It was a record that future generations could only look up to in awe.
For the Bengals, however, Montana was a bitter memory. But now, the man leading the 49ers was not Montana, but an undrafted rookie named Lu Ke. Clearly, the Bengals were dead set on winning this game.
"VICTORY IS OURS!" Suddenly, a roar erupted beside them like a crack of thunder.
They instinctively turned their heads and saw five or six fans. Their faces were smeared with paint to resemble the Bengals' logo, transforming them into Bengal tigers roaring with their mouths wide open.
"LOSERS ALWAYS ROAR THE LOUDEST!" Chris shot back, refusing to be outdone. "WE'RE TAKING HOME THE WIN!" With that, he raised his right fist high and started chanting, "49ERS! 49ERS! 49ERS!"
The three friends standing with Chris immediately joined in. But surrounded by the home crowd, they were at a distinct disadvantage. The four of them were like a tiny dinghy tossed on a vast ocean, seemingly on the verge of capsizing at any moment. Still, they showed no fear, roaring until their faces were red and veins bulged on their necks, trying to hype themselves up.
The Bengals fans quickly came to their senses. They started shouting to one another, calling over their friends, and then broke into a full-throated rendition of their team's fight song. The terrifying, endless wall of sound climbed higher and higher, creating a direct confrontation. They clearly had the upper hand.
The Bengals and the 49ers weren't bitter rivals, and there was no irreconcilable hatred between them. The face-off between the fans had less genuine hostility and more of a sporting spirit. And so, everyone continued chanting, singing, and cheering as they poured into the stadium in a massive procession, before dispersing to find their own seats.
The rookie showdown was finally starting to feel real.
But after they sat down, Chris and the others gradually realized something was off. It wasn't just Chris; even the usually oblivious Danny noticed. "What's going on? Don't tell me this stadium isn't even going to sell out. What the hell is up with Cincinnati?"
The regular-season Week 3 game between the San Francisco 49ers and the Cincinnati Bengals was scheduled for a 10:00 AM kickoff. It was now less than twenty minutes to ten. Logically, the stadium should have been packed by now, with all the spectators in their seats. But before them, Paul Brown Stadium was still filled with vast patches of empty seats. It looked like a head with bald spots—not just bizarre, but desolate.
'What... was going on?'