INDIANAPOLIS — It was about 6:30 p.m. when my compadre Peter Evans arrived in his four-door Honda. I couldn’t help but sigh, laugh and shake my head all at the same time. In the back seat was nothing but a gigantic ball of fabric. It was a struggle, as it seemed hard enough to get it in there. The passenger seat had to be leaned as far forward as possible as well as slid as far up as it could be. It was a struggle getting 5,400 square feet of muslin out of his car.

In the darkness of late February, my neighbors thought we were idiots. We took the entire thing and spread it out in my parents’ driveway and cul de sac. With a little bit of planning and a lot of struggling, we folded it neatly in a way that would allow us to carry it in. With a bit of help from my father, we snaked it around the back of my house and down the stairs. Of course, my Dad told us to think smaller, which is almost impossible in our new stadium.

Fortunately, we had some time to prepare as details were finalized between Peter and the design team. By the time the following Monday rolled around, I had the fabric hung and ready to be traced. Well, somewhat. When you’re tracing on a 9 x 18-foot wall, it takes numerous movements to get the whole thing. To be able to project and trace the whole thing, we had to trace 42 individual panels onto the fabric. It was a coordinated effort to make sure we were tracing the proper dimensions each time, as well as making sure everything lined up.

Forty-one moves and three days of tracing later, we were ready to move. Of course, we couldn’t just go ahead and paint it. With so many individual panels having to line up, we wanted to check them and make sure each piece lined up with those surrounding it.

We threw it in the back of a pickup truck and showed up unannounced at a local church and took over its lobby. It was entertaining to say the least. I was unfortunately not immediately behind the truck, but I could only hear stories from Peter and the driver, Brandon, about how it felt like it could fall out at any moment, but fortunately got there in one piece. Thankfully, churches are usually empty on Thursday nights so it wasn’t too busy, but the few who were there certainly thought we were crazy.

Here we ran into our first issue: the crest. One of the most important pieces of the display was nowhere near perfect. Each of the three parts that contained the crest were nowhere near aligned, about 8 inches off from one another. None of us are artists either. So, we freehanded the entire thing. Peter and I were both wearing club shirts with the crest on it, therefore we would alternate lying next to the design to use ourselves as references. She didn’t come out perfect, but she was as good as we could get it. Next, we folded her back up and put her in the back of John Chope’s SUV. Seriously, we couldn’t even move this thing from point A to B to C without this guy.

Onto the next location. A few days later, it took about five or six of us to carry this thing folded up. We were too stupid to find a dolly, but we got it inside, up a freight elevator six floors to our new downtown painting location. We got her there, got tarps taped down and finally got things ready to go. It wasn’t the easiest task, but we got it all laid out and ready for paint. Things started off smoothly. With over a dozen volunteers on the first full day of painting, we were finished in a matter of hours. Things were going very smoothly. Almost too smoothly.

After the first day of painting wrapped up, we had to figure out our plan of action. Peter and I met up, just the two of us, the next day to move the fabric and get working on the crest. Remember when I said things were going too well? Peter was basically on his deathbed with some sort of virus going around his work, so I was on my own. I got the entire thing moved and recruited some help to get us started on the crest. It was painstaking, but we finally got Lady Victory painted. For being somewhat freehanded, it worked out better than expected, but still not perfect. After getting Peter’s approval via text, we called it an early night and moved onto Thursday.

With reinforcements, the entire second portion — which had the most detail — was completed in basically two days. I was surprised at that, because there were so many fine areas to be painted, but we moved on. The third panel was relatively easy. Other than the start of a few letters, the design was simply the shoulder of Eleven’s jacket. That went by too quickly. By the end of Saturday, we were all ready for a break and had one planned for Sunday.

Unfortunately, I get a little stir crazy, and after tossing some cornhole with a buddy downtown, I headed over and simply moved the design with a little help from Tony. We got it moved and thought that we had one more day. We were wrong. With more and more fabric piling up on the north side of the room, we had to settle for one final day to get the final lettering done as well as the very edge of the display. So close, but yet so far.

As Monday wrapped up, we realized just how low on paint we were. We already had to make a trip to PPG on a day off to pick up another few gallons, but alas, still short. It was now Tuesday again, and we essentially had a four-person party finishing up and celebrating our hours and hours of tracing, checking lines, painting and moving fabric. I’d estimate Peter and I each put about 45 hours into this display.

Finally.

After heading downtown for 10 days straight, I was able to catch up on much needed sleep. We took off for Richmond that Friday to watch our boys get our first USL win and returned to figure out what our final steps were. Friday before the match came around, about five or six of us snaked the heap of fabric down the hall into a large open area and folded the display.

It was quite the operation, as we had to ensure once we got it into the stadium it would unfurl properly and things not go wrong. I’ve seen tifo tear, get tangled or simply not display in the proper orientation. None of us wanted that. So, after getting it folded, we commandeered a dolly and strapped her down for the move.

Match day arrived, and it was an early start. We met at 12:45 p.m. to load up the display and threw it into the bed of the truck once again. Thankfully, with the weight of the paint she wasn’t coming out of the truck this time. After diving into the bowels of Lucas Oil Stadium, we worked with the club to get her into position.

I wiped the sweat off my brow after we struggled for what felt like hours, but was actually about 15 minutes, to get her down the stairs. Consuming drinks at our tailgate couldn’t help ease my nerves knowing that our hard work had yet to pay off. After heading back inside, I couldn’t help but anxiously watch the clock as time approached.

Myself and a few others stood in front of the display simply feeding fabric to the hundreds standing above us ready to unfurl her in all her glory. She went up spectacularly without a hitch. I took a deep breath and was glad to see things go smoothly.

And that, friends, is the story of my baby — the story of another incredible Indy Eleven tifo.

Follow Chad on Twitter: @Chad_Irvine.

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