They've got spirit, yes they do. They travel 632 miles to see the Bucs. How 'bout you?
By LANE DeGREGORY
Published December 13, 2003
[Times photo: Bill Serne]
From left, Virginia Von Dran, Ulrich Von Dran and Carol Clark, Virginia’s twin sister, watch pregame activities before the Bucs/Giants matchup Nov. 24 in Raymond James Stadium. The Von Drans have been commuting from South Carolina to Bucs home games for five years.
They start preparing for the pilgrimage on Thursday.
In the afternoon, they decorate their car: two magnetic Bucs helmets on the hood, a Bucs pirate ship on the trunk, Bucs flags flying from both doors. They hitch the Saturn to their RV. Pack their suitcases: Bucs T-shirts, Bucs sweat shirts, Bucs hats.
Friday morning, they leave their home in Clemson, S.C. They stop at Racetrac to fill their Bucs mugs with coffee and their 37-foot Sun Cruiser with gas. They slide Perry Como into the stereo. Then they head for the highway, turning south onto Interstate 85.
On Saturday, Ulrich and Virginia Von Dran lumber through Georgia, into Florida.
Three states. Two days. Fourteen hours of driving.
632 miles each way.
The couple commute to every Bucs home game. They've been road-tripping now for five years.
This year the drive home is longer than ever.
In the beginning
The Von Drans moved to Tampa in 1973, when Ulrich was assigned to MacDill Air Force Base. He ran the Air Force Exchange, the PX.
The next year, Tampa Bay got its first NFL franchise.
"We're both big sports fans, so we wanted in on it," says Ulrich, now 70 and retired. "We figured if the Bucs ever got good, we'd never be able to buy season tickets."
In 1976, the first season, the most expensive seat at Tampa Stadium cost $12 a game. The Bucs sold 40,000 season tickets. The Von Drans paid $80 a person and bought four. They cheered with their two young children at every home game. But other seats in "The Big Sombrero" always were empty.
The Bucs didn't score a touchdown until their fourth game. "We had 26 straight losses," says Virginia, 62.
When the Bucs finally beat New Orleans their second season, on Dec. 11, 1977, "it was almost as thrilling as winning the Super Bowl," Virginia says.
In 1979, Ulrich was transferred from Tampa to Greece, so the Von Drans sold their season tickets. "The Bucs were so bad, we knew we could get more when we got back," Virginia says.
After Greece, the Von Drans moved to Saudi Arabia. It took them 17 years to get back to Florida.
Pledging allegiance
When Ulrich retired, he bought a condo on Anna Maria Island. Then he bought two season tickets to the Bucs, who were about to move into their new home.
The Von Drans drove almost two hours each way to every home game.
"The team still wasn't any good," Virginia says.
In 1998, a hurricane tore apart their gulffront condo, so they moved to a house in South Carolina, on a lake 20 minutes northwest of Clemson.
"But we weren't about to give up our tickets," Virginia says.
They devoted themselves to the Bucs for the long haul.
Road-trip rituals
Eight cups of French vanilla cappuccino each, each way. Four stops, at least. One hundred and five gallons of gas. (The RV gets only 6 miles a gallon.) Campground fees, food and $150 for gas.
Ten games a year, plus playoffs. They hope.
"We can only go 65 miles an hour in that RV. But the trip there never seems long," Virginia says.
They always take the same route, always follow the interstate. They spend the night in one of three Georgia campgrounds. They always pull off at Exit 374, near Ocala. "The Howard Johnson's there has a fabulous restaurant," Virginia says.
Every two hours, they switch drivers. Along the way, they talk. But after 39 years of marriage, sometimes silence seeps in. So they listen to Broadway tunes, big band, Doris Day. Ulrich crunches peanuts. Virginia scouts Flying J. truck stops.
By dark Saturday, they try to be parked. They set up either at a Tampa campground or over at Fort De Soto Park, near St. Petersburg.
On game day, they get to the stadium at least two hours early so they can watch Derrick Brooks and Warren Sapp warm up.
Rain or shine, shiver or sweat, they haven't missed a home game yet.
"My wife is much more gung-ho about it than me," Ulrich says. "When it's raining, I don't ever want to go. But she insists. So I go. I always go."
"Our neighbors think we're crazy," Virginia says. "When the Bucs lose, they send us sympathy cards."
Their kids harass them. The Von Drans won't make Christmas plans until they know whether the Bucs will be in the playoffs. The couple bought Bucs footballs for all 10 of their grandchildren.
"Our family room looks like a fraternity house," Ulrich says. "My wife's got news clippings, banners, framed pictures of Jon Gruden everywhere."
Keeping the faith
This year, their season tickets cost $475 each.
Since last year's Super Bowl win, the 65,657 seats in Raymond James Stadium always are full. More than 100,000 fans are on the Bucs' waiting list.
The Von Drans sit in the orange section, six rows up from the end zone, on the side with the pirate ship.
They gulp Powerade when it's hot, munch hot dogs when it's cold. Ulrich calls plays before the quarterback. Virginia out-referees the striped shirts.
They wear red and black Mardi Gras beads, for luck.
And when those don't work - like this year - the Von Drans head back up the highway, flags still flying. Only those hauls home seem a whole lot longer.
"The drive back after we lost to the Colts (in October) seemed to take forever," Virginia says. "We'd screamed so much we couldn't even talk."
So they turn on talk radio, reanalyze the game with the experts, and tell each other: Next time. The Bucs will get it next time.
But what if they don't? What if last season was only a fluke? A tease? What would it take for these super fans to relinquish their road trips?
"Never," Virginia says. "No matter how bad they're playing, no matter how far we have to drive, we'll be there with the Bucs. We always have."
- Research assistant Mary Mellstrom contributed to this report. Lane DeGregory can be reached at degregory@sptimes.com
