The Outback Bowl Mystery

So, it's been pouring out all day. It's freezing. Tampa Bay is not looking like such a desirable locale for a football game right now. Northwestern is in the hunt for its first Bowl Game victory in 60 years.
The kick is up, through the uprights, and over the "Your in Good Hands With Allstate" netting. Actually, as a kicked football comes cascading down at you end over end, you rapidly gain a new respect for the difficult task of kick returner. The ball landed with a phoomph in the seat next to mine in the midst of the Northwestern student section of Raymond James Stadium. Of course, we are Northwestern students and alumni, so our initial reaction to seeing a football is curiosity and novelty. Much like a character of "Big Bang Theory" would react to seeing something both pedestrian and simultaneously alien as a sandwich, we stared. Second, how often does a football come hurtling into the stands? My faith in the good hands of Allstate is momentarily shaken. So, football arrives in stands. Brief disruption. Focus returns to game. We are purple in clothing, in spirit and in frostbite. Dedicated.
Some semi-official looking guy wearing Outback Bowl paraphernalia approaches me in the aisle seat, and demands his football back. Him, in a macho kind of way that says he's not going to be intimidated by 11,000 fans freezing their asses off and losing: "I want my ball back." All Charlie Brown and whatnot.
Me: "What? I dunno. It was here." Casual look down at the ground. "I don't know where it went."
Him: We need that football back now. This is not a joke.
Me: "Well, it kind of is. This is a game. The team obviously has ANOTHER one, as the game is continuing and you are still talking. Some one probably picked it up. Big Deal."
Me, to M: "What did I miss?"
Outback Bowl dude leaves.
Two incredibly short guys in SECURITY jackets come down the steps. "We want our ball back."
Me: "Then you should have put the net up."
Them: "It's theft. We want the ball."
Me: "I don't have it. It bounced here. I don't know where it went." To guy next to me: "Did you see the ball? Pass it on. Rent-a-cops here want their ball back."
Them: "What's so funny?"
Me: "That you're down here giving every one a hard time over a football."
Them: "Are you laughing because of a guilty conscience?"
Me: "I'm soaking wet and you can see the exact outline of my body because every inch of clothing is soaked and clinging to me like unforgiving polyester. Where would I hide a football?"
Them: "We can take care of your attitude."
Shortycop and his partner leave.
Me, to M: "What did I miss?"
A very official Florida State Trooper with the hat and the bullet proof vest and everything comes down.
Me: "They're sending down the real police now."
Him (very officially): Yup. They want their ball back.
Me: "If we all promise to go buy a Bloomin' Onion (tm) this week, do you think the Outback Bowl will be able to cover the cost of a lost football? And we can go back to watching the game?"
Him: "I don't know why it's such a big deal. They wanted me to come down and tell you that they want their ball back. If we get it back, there will be no questions asked. Report says, the ball landed here and nobody's left."
Me: "There's a report already?"
Him: "If we catch the stolen property on the perpetrator, he will go to jail for theft."
Me: "Of a football? That was kicked into the stands? At a football game?"
Him: "Yes. Just pass the word."
Me, to guy behind me: "This guy's gonna arrest whoever picked up the football. Pass it on."
Me, to M: "What did I miss?"
Meanwhile, everyone in our section is casually looking for the ball between plays. If someone has stolen it, he's doing a good job of lifting up jackets and shuffling trash around to make a show at searching. Who knows where that ball went? Sure it bounced by us, but it bounced up high...it could be 10 rows ahead or behind. Is there an NU fan so desperate for a souvenir of a thus-far agonizing game that he is willing to risk jail for a field goal kicked by a quite bad, soon to be forgotten kicker? Rumbles of annoyance and rumor and "bacon" float upwards. Shortycop and his partner come back. They walk up and down the aisles, and then across every row in our section. A football is hard to hide. They make whispers of intimidation and jail. They threaten a long exit line because they are going to search every one in our section. They come up empty.
Shortycop: "We want our ball back. We will punish to the fullest extent of the law for theft."
M: "I'm willing to bet there are more than a few very good lawyers on this side of the field. I don't think it's theft. You guys didn't put up the net. Leave us alone."
Me: "We don't have your ball. Tell the Outback Bowl people to get over it. If one $20 ball is such a huge loss, then the $110 we paid for tickets clearly isn't enough. Don't give us such a hard time. We just want to watch the game."
Shortycop: "We're watching all of you."
Me: "Fine. But you're missing a great game."
In the ensuing time, the agony and ecstasy of college football plays out on the field before us. There is thrill and defeat and heartbreak. There is injury and poor sportsmanship and last gasp. And last gasp. And last gasp. There was a second chance. A third. A trick pony. And defeat. The lost ball was forgotten, replaced by the visceral reality of the lost game.
In the end, the mystery remains. The ball was never found. If I had found it, I would have found a way to flatten it and then turn it over to Shortycop. Or wrapped it in a purple hair bow and gifted it to him. In the end, Shortycop skulked off to the donut shop to mull over the mystery. The "open" file remains on his desk, only to taunto him for the rest of his rental career. The one that got away. The Outback Ball. Mystery.
*A special note to section 123: Well done. Treasure that ball, whoever brought it home. You, alone, emerge victorious for Northwestern on this day.