There is something about Wallace Wade Stadium that has always appealed to me.
The first time I ever walked through the student gate and into the concourse I was amazed by the difference between this stadium and all of the college stadiums that I had grown up seeing on television. Behemoths like The Horseshoe (Ohio State), The Big House (Michigan) and Bryant-Denny Stadium (Roll Tide) all hold more than 100,000 crazed fans and are packed to capacity even for games against the likes of Arkansas State and Bowling Green.
As I strolled across the concourse towards the student section, I looked out onto the field and noticed the trademark toilet bowl shape of the stadium and the track left down on the field. I imagined that this was what it was like to attend a high school football game in a state aside from Texas.
My friends and I lumped down the endless steps toward the front of the student section and prepared ourselves for our first live college football game, keys in hand. The first thing that I noticed now that I was immersed in the crowd was that despite the fact that Wallace Wade only holds about 34,000 people, there was an empty feel about the stadium. Scanning around the stands, it was hard not to notice all the empty pockets where the metal reflected in the waning sun.
And then, of course, are the bleachers themselves. I don't know why the Duke stadium architects love using bleachers as seating instead of, well, actual seats but to them I say thank you. It makes the fan experience more real (An aside for those that don’t know, Cameron Indoor, Koskinen, Jack Katz, Jack Coombs and Wallace Wade all use bleachers at least to some extent). And all this I noticed before the first ball was kicked off its tee.
The game was not one to remember. In fact, I think most of us seniors who remember the 2011 home opener against Richmond—a Division I-AA team that ended that season on an eight-game losing streak—would prefer that we had remained at the tailgate that day. Turnovers spelt out the defeat for Duke, but of the few of us that remained until the final whistle, none of us will forget the 28-yard field goal attempt with about minute to play that could have salvaged the game for our team. But instead it was shanked and sent the last of the students home discouraged.
I have been to many different college and professional football stadiums since that first game in Durham—Bank of America Stadium in Charlotte, Kenan Memorial in Chapel Hill, the Georgia Dome in Atlanta and MetLife Stadium in New York just to name a few—but none of those stadiums have the same feel and the same allure to me as Wallace Wade.
During my career here at Duke there have been three days where I think Wallace Wade was the greatest stadium in the country and coincidentally—or maybe not—they were all days that the student section was filled to the brim, reminiscent of many a basketball game.
In 2012, the Blue Devils upset the Tar Heels at home to take the Victory Bell back to its rightful home for the first time since 2003. The noise throughout the game permeated every person that was present and culminated in a climax of students swarming the field for the first time in anyone’s memory.
In 2013, Duke was riding a five-game win streak—including a road upset against Virginia Tech—going into its final home game of the season against a highly touted Miami team. Again, the entire stadium was filled with blue and white, creating an atmosphere that I had never experienced before at field level. Again, the Cinderella squad was able to knock off a top team and again my friends were able to join the team on the field in spectacular display of wall-hopping ability.
Both of these games were against very good ACC rivals in the midst of a long and arduous season. That was why it was surprising to me when the third game that made my list was this season’s home opener against Elon. As I glanced up into the student section one last time before kickoff a thought crossed my mind that never had before: they’re not going to stop letting in students, are they? I have never in my life seen our student section so full, not against North Carolina, not against Miami. The energy was palpable—almost dangerous—throughout the game, and it wasn’t even a game that really mattered.
Now that I write this, I think I realize what really makes Wallace Wade special. The physical aspects of the stadium do have this endearing quality to them much like that of the underdog itself. The stadium is a representation of the team we have all fallen in love with throughout the past two seasons. But apart from that there is one quality that—much like Cameron—you can feel in Wallace Wade but nowhere else. Big stadiums are loud. Small stadiums have energy and that’s something that can never be renovated or made state-of-the-art. It exists within the people who arrive to the stadium, week after week, ready to watch their team write history once again.
Get The Chronicle straight to your inbox
Signup for our weekly newsletter. Cancel at any time.