I’m a bit embarrassed to admit that I had no idea what the term “Friday Night Lights” meant until about a week ago. FNL, according to my Texan classmate, is associated with high school football games that usually occur on Friday nights and is NOT a reference to Las Vegas nightclub and casino lights that are turned on during the weekends — as I had originally guessed. Coming from Chicago, I never really experienced the football spirit like in typical American high school movie tropes. 

Ironically, my school was founded by the late Chicago Bears running back Walter Payton, but somehow our football team still sucked. Being smack-dab in the middle of high-rise buildings prevented us from even having a football field. Even though football games were never really attended regularly, our homecoming game usually had a good turnout — or so I’ve heard, given that I only went once during my senior year, and even then, showed up midway through the game.

Homecoming, or Hoco for short, in the city was an occasion to wear a short, cheap dress — mine was a $15 Fashion Nova dress that I cut 15 minutes before going out — go to a pre, stay at the actual Hoco dance for an hour at most, and then pull up to a random afterparty where the theme was probably “risky business.” Because most of my acquaintances throughout high school were city kids, I wasn’t aware of true football culture until I came to Yale. 

Apparently, a “real” homecoming entails a week-long celebration. Students may dress up for school in different silly themes each day. Having a date to the dance actually mattered, and every girl dreamed of having a boy walk up to them with a box of donuts and a sign that said, “Please Donut Say No…Hoco?” Dresses were probably from Sherri Hill, and going to a pre involved posing for coordinated pictures taken by all the parents. As my Yale peers reminisce about memories like these — ones I’ve never come close to experiencing — I sometimes find myself wondering if I missed out on the chance to enjoy such frivolous activities, knowing you’re only in high school once. Ultimately, I’d still never trade the spontaneity of having the city as my campus, where plans could be made on a whim and fun, in my opinion, felt more authentic than the more scripted joys of suburban life.

From what I’ve gathered, Yale’s football culture is more in tune with my high school experience than the movies, which I admit is personally comforting. I rarely hear of football games, and when I do, I never feel FOMO from not attending. Of course, there is one exception: the famous Harvard-Yale game. In my head, the game is the one opportunity for city and suburban kids to unite as one to rah-rah for Yale. It is also the perfect exposure of who is really “city” and who is not — I am talking about all you fake suburbanites who say you are from the city when you live an hour away. I, unfortunately, will not be in attendance, but to all the city kids, just know that I will be joining you in spirit as you stand in confusion, trying to understand what the Hell is even going on on the field.