Let’s take a moment to reflect on game day. It’s a chance on Saturday to see your friends, embrace intemperance (or turn a blind eye to it), come together to support a team and escape the confines of your living or dorm room for one night, even if it is raining. Sometime before kick off, you might feel a craving for “Mississippi’s Best Sushi,” by third quarter wondering why you are hollering to hear the person next to you even when the din of cowbells has slightly subsided, and, hell, if you are sitting in the north end zone you might even feel some vibrational energy being transferred from the bleachers through your feet and rear. If you are aware you might have noticed the behemoth structure towering over Scott Field in the south end zone constantly yelling at you: the Jumbotron.
I am not here to knock the Jumbotron at all; as an engineering student, it is nothing short of a marvel. During its construction in 2008 it was hailed as one of the largest true HD video screens in the SEC. It might rack your brain to think of the Jumbotron’s acoustical and structural stability, and it should because this is no small order. The team that worked on this has every reason to be proud. (If you want to get an idea of the Jumbotron’s size, look at how tiny the cameramen look perched on it.)
 Am I the only one that finds this Jumbotron mildly offensive in its use? The decibels produced alone are more than enough to precipitate annoyance. It would only be magnanimous for the box office to give Advil and those cheap traffic-cone orange ear buds as a bonus package to any ticket holder near the south end zone.
As if the volume wasn’t enough, what it accompanies is most irritating. For once it would be nice to enjoy a game without commercials blaring at me. It’s almost as if you are watching the game at home on TV, and I don’t think that’s the experience ticket buyers pay for. If I wanted that, I could just as easily watch the game at home laid back in a recliner where I wouldn’t have to wait in line for an overpriced Coke and hotdog. The entertainment during time-outs and between snaps is supposed to be reserved for the band anyway. The fact the Jumbotron can start subliminally selling you “this and that” all the while drowning out music the band has worked hard on is quite rude. How awesome would it be if the fans rang their cowbells loud enough to try and drown out the Jumbotron?
I doubt I am the only person who would like to actually engage socially with those around me without being spoken over by an ad. It’s the experience of the game we pay to see, not the Jumbotron. “Just don’t look at it,” would be an obvious solution. But diverting your attention is quite a tall order as the Jumbotron packs a deadly one-two blow to your attention: catching you aurally then holding you with its vivid beauty of a deliciously wrapped rainbow roll. Even describing it makes me vulnerable to its influence as I salivate for sushi buffet.
I am not here to knock the Jumbotron. In fact, I love that we have the ability to see an instant replay of a hard hit, bad call or TD; but is there any way someone could press the soft mute during commercials?