We’re standing on a perfectly groomed Folsom Field during a gorgeous late summer Friday afternoon. There are no players to be found, the stands are empty and there isn’t a football anywhere in sight.
The sound is felt before it’s heard; a low rumbling that shakes the earth and tremors through the bones. Then the noise stirs the air and assaults the ears, a vibrating growl that morphs into a roaring cacophony. The Colorado…