No Blitz — How Arkansas Tech University Fans Tailgate in a Dry County

Tents filled the courtyard between Thone Stadium and Williamson Hall, where fans dressed in green and gold attire anxiously awaited the first home game of a new season. Kids tossed footballs back and forth and plumes of hickory-laced smoke filled the air. 

In many ways, it reminded me of the tailgating scene at the big state school I attended. But there was one big difference. 

Alcohol did not take center stage in these pre-game festivities. Beer and booze were noticeably absent. Sober tailgating was the name of the game on the campus of Arkansas Tech University, as it is every time its football team plays in the small, dry-county town the school calls home. 

Russellville (population 30,000) is located in Pope County, one of 29 dry counties in Arkansas. Alcohol is available by the drink at private clubs and restaurants in dry counties, but package sales are against the law. Drinking in public spaces is almost unheard of, making tailgate parties at Arkansas Tech dry by default. 

I earned my degree from the University of Arkansas, where pre-game parties were just as important as the games themselves (and more so during losing seasons). The concept of sober tailgating was foreign to me, so I decided to attend an Arkansas Tech game to see what it was all about. That’s how I found myself driving down Interstate 540 on a cool September morning. I watched the Ozark Mountains empty into the Arkansas River Valley and I soon reached my destination. 

The first thing I did in Russellville was meet up with Arkansas Tech’s director of athletics, Abby Davis, to help me understand what I was going to experience at the tailgate the following day.  

“Tailgating has become a really fun time for us. But we’re in a dry county, so nobody is walking around with coolers full of beer.”

Division II football is much different than its Division I counterpart. Scholarships are in short supply, forcing athletes to supplement their athletic awards with academic scholarships, grants and loans. Davis noted the grit and determination of the 330 student-athletes who make up the Wonder Boys (men) and Golden Suns (women) rosters, who she described as “a hard-working and blue-collar bunch.” 

The Wonder Boys have played football since 1911. They draw a faithful crowd, but the scene is not like what you see on ESPN’s “College Gameday.” The atmosphere in Russellville is smaller and tamer. Fans are fueled by caffeine instead of alcohol. 

“Football is a huge event for our small campus,” Davis said. “Tailgating has become a really fun time for us. But we’re in a dry county, so nobody is walking around with coolers full of beer.”

TRICK PLAY

No beer at the tailgate? I assumed at least a few industrious fans would find a way to sneak a few pregame drinks on the down-low. To prepare for that scenario, I asked around for the best place to buy beer to-go. I was told to head 20 miles east to Conway County, which is wet. I made the short drive to Blackwell, Arkansas, home to two package stores frequented by dry-county residents. The state’s smaller communities—most places other than northwest Arkansas and the Little Rock metro—have been slow to embrace craft beer, so I was prepared to settle for something like a Mexican Lager (which always works in a pinch).  

My first stop was the aptly named Blackwell Liquor. The sign was weathered and the wood-clad and windowless exterior made the place feel uninviting. I was relieved to find the inside was much more cheerful, and full of craft brands, including two of Arkansas’ largest—Little Rock’s Lost Forty Brewing Co. and Ozark Beer Co. from Rogers (both recent medalists at the Great American Beer Festival).

An employee said craft beer sells well, with the stuff produced in Arkansas moving better than national brands. Point Remove [Brewing Co.], “made in the next town over,” has strong sales, she told me. The clerk behind the cash register said traffic from dry counties west of Blackwell is steady. He said they come from Russellville, just 20 minutes away, “but they also come from west of there, from as far away as Clarksville.” That’s a 45-minute drive to buy booze. 

EASY HAIL MARY

It was still morning, and with a 6 p.m. kickoff I had time to head to Morrilton (pop. 7,000) to check out Point Remove. The brewery opened in 2020 in a former Coca-Cola bottling plant. It distributes a few styles across Arkansas, including a Lager, a Pilsner, and an IPA. I arrived after the posted opening time but the doors were still locked. I took a seat on the patio and enjoyed a cool breeze while I waited. Soon two employees arrived to open the taproom. 

While ordering a second pint I talked with Carson Davis, who lives in Conway and makes the 30-minute commute to work at Point Remove. He said he enjoys running the taproom, and he helps with brewing duties when the taproom is closed. He admitted that local tastes are a work-in-progress. “We are still trying to get our IPA off the ground,” he said. “Our bestseller is our Lager, which is most like what people are used to drinking around here.” Arkansas has more than 50 breweries these days, but there are still a lot of people who haven’t ventured beyond macro Lagers.  

As I drove back to Russellville for the game, I stopped in Blackwell again, this time to visit Arka Valley Liquor. Its parking lot was heavy with traffic, and customers streamed out of the store with cases of Coors Light and the like under their arms. Once inside, I discovered coolers flush with beer from all over the United States, and even a few Belgian and German imports. 

“The number of customers and the significant stock at Blackwell’s package stores make it clear they benefit from being on their side of the wet-dry county divide.”

A man wearing an Arkansas Tech T-shirt was carefully studying the beer cooler. I struck up a conversation and he introduced himself as a staff member at Arkansas Tech. In Russellville, he said, attitudes about alcohol are evolving but inconveniences persist.

“If you live in Russellville and want to drink at home, you have to drive over here to get what you need,” he said. “And don’t look for beer on campus before the game because you won’t find it.”  

An Arka Valley owner said business was brisk for craft beer brands. “We are selling a lot of it right now, in addition to the tried and true [Bud, Miller, Coors],” he said. “People are buying a lot of Arkansas beer, but they’re buying the other stuff too. As you can see from our inventory, we sell a lot of beer in general.” The number of customers and the significant stock at Blackwell’s package stores make it clear they benefit from being on their side of the wet-dry county divide.

A couple of six-packs in hand, I made the short drive back to Russellville and stopped for a burger and fries at the legendary Feltner’s Whatta-Burger. Located across the road from the Arkansas Tech campus, the burger dive has been in business since 1967. I visited the place when I was a teenager, and still remember trying (unsuccessfully) to put down a quad-meat burger with cheese. The place hasn’t changed much over the decades, but a sign of the times might be the newly added veggie burger on a menu built for carnivores.  

Belly full, I parked my car in a lot adjacent to the football stadium. I considered stuffing a couple of my freshly procured beers in my backpack, but I decided to leave them behind, not sure what to expect at the tailgate. I could always double back. 

THE 12TH MAN

The scene on campus was lively. Fans sat close together, eating burgers and hotdogs in camping chairs. Cornhole games were happening all around. People walked from tent to tent, telling jokes and laughing boisterously. I kept my eyes peeled for booze but didn’t find any evidence of alcohol being consumed. Cooler lids lifted and I peered in, curious about what I would see. Bottled water and sodas were abundant, but beer was glaringly absent. Even the rowdiest tailgating crowd sipped on Coca-Colas and iced tea. 

A group of students was gathered under a tent near where some large fraternity letters cut from wood were staked in the ground, suggesting a “here to party” kind of vibe. Three or four students sat on a sofa watching a football game on a big-screen TV. “Do you guys sneak a few beers while you’re tailgating?” I asked one. He looked me in the eye and answered with a straight face. “Nah man, we don’t do that out here.”   

Cheerleaders weaved through the tailgate crowd doing their cheers and hyping the fans along the way. Somewhere in the distance, the marching band warmed up their instruments. Everyone on campus seemed filled with school spirit. It was a typical pregame tailgate in every obvious way except one: Drunken tomfoolery was entirely absent. The mood was cheerful, but in control. If drinking was happening around me, it was very well hidden. It was a far cry from the out-in-the-open tailgating norms I was familiar with at my alma mater. 

On my way to the stadium, I bumped into a group of older fans who were laughing loudly and clearly enjoying themselves. They were there to dedicate a room in the athletic facility in honor of their friend, Leon Anderson, who was a star quarterback at the school in the ’60s and the head coach in the ’70s. I spoke briefly with Ken Anderson, Leon’s brother. “He loves Arkansas Tech, and Arkansas Tech loves my brother.” 

“Do you guys sneak a few beers while you’re tailgating?” I asked one. He looked me in the eye and answered with a straight face. “Nah man, we don’t do that out here.”

Ken’s long gray beard and laid-back demeanor gave me the confidence to ask where I might find a pregame tipple. “I usually bring a flask with me,” he said. “But unfortunately, not today.” 

Over my shoulder, I watched as a woman handed a red Solo cup to the photographer with me on assignment. With a grin on her face, the photographer brought it over for me to inspect. “I found a margarita!” she exclaimed, proving that even the driest tailgates can spring a leak.

Wonder Boys fans flowed into Thone Stadium—capacity 6,500—and quickly found their seats. A contingent of Southern Nazarene University supporters had made the trip from Oklahoma, but they were greatly outnumbered by the home crowd, who filled every seat on the Wonder Boys side of the field. The marching band took the field and the color guard made its way to the 50-yard line. Hats were removed and hands were placed over hearts. Patriotism hung thick over the crowd as the band played The Star-Spangled Banner. 

Finally, players took the field and the official signaled the game’s start. Southern Nazarene’s kickoff sailed high into the air and was received by the Arkansas Tech return man at the 10-yard line. He burst through a seam and raced down the near sideline. He hurdled a defender at the end of this run, setting the Wonder Boys up for their first drive inside Nazarene territory. The crowd roared as the offense took the field. 

Though Southern Nazarene defeated the Wonder Boys 38-31, I found my time in Russellville to be enlightening. My belief system was dismantled in only a day’s time. For most of my life, I have viewed imbibing on game days as not only normal, but necessary. Whether on television or in person, watching a game without a beer in hand wasn’t possible. But my experience at Arkansas Tech showed me it doesn’t have to be that way. Yes, you can have a good time while staying in your right mind. Just don’t ask me what’s in my cup the next time you see me at a game.   

Words by Brian Sorensen
Photos by Sara Reeves