It’s been two long years, but my triumphant return is imminent.

I’m heading back to the stands.

While my usual seat in the press box may seem all warm and cozy, it’s really not all it’s cracked up to be. Yes, there is food. Yes, there is heat. Yes, we get nicely typed-up stats and play-by-play sheets.

But watching football inside a sterile room isn’t half as exciting as being among the Wildcats’ faithful, even in the most dreary, lopsided blowout.

During the entire 2002 season I eschewed tailgates and headed straight up to the stadium before most fans had even rolled out of bed — certainly before they began to get that early-morning beer buzz.

But entering the Ryan Field press box is hardly like entering the student section. For one, there are few students. (Wait, maybe it’s more like the stands than I thought.)

As reporters are reminded before each game, “This is a working press box. There is no cheering in the press box.”

Not that “no cheering” means silence. As the often-jaded reporters settle into their seats — which each have a nice view of the field — the usual sarcastic comments about Northwestern’s success begin.

But that’s it. There are no jangling keys, no “state school” chants, no yelling of any kind. No fun. We are working, remember?

And it’s not limited to the Ryan Field press box. In general, press boxes aren’t much of a picnic, though the key to making them bearable is to open the windows to hear the cheering of the crowd and feel the warm (or bitterly cold) air.

That’s why I’m passing up my chance at a warm seat with a good view to stand for three hours in the frigid Chicago fall, shivering and peering between the shoulders of those in front of me. (There are rarely perfect views when you’re 5-foot-3.) With just four home games left in my NU career, time is running out to qualify for student seats. Soon (shudder) I’ll be relegated to the “young alumni” section.

Back in the magical 2000 season — my long-ago freshman year at NU — I was in the student seats during the Cats’ incredible win over Michigan. The “Instant Classic” couldn’t have been nearly the same from the press box, where there would have been no screaming, no high-fiving, no hugging. And certainly no rushing the field.

That’s something that heat and Hecky’s pulled pork sandwiches (which I don’t even eat) can’t ever match.

So I’m back. I’m not asking for another game like the win over Michigan — the 2003 version of the team is hardly a bunch of Cardiac Cats — but competitive football wouldn’t hurt. (I’ve suffered through my fair share of crushing losses. Last year’s 62-10 drubbing at Iowa and 49-0 thrashing at Penn State come to mind, both of which I spent in press boxes.) In a good game, especially, the stands are the only place to be.

On Saturday morning, as I bundle up, grab my Wildcard and jacked-up $15 student ticket, and make the trek up north to Ryan Field, I might even try something else that isn’t allowed in the press box: wearing purple.