A few months ago, during the long dog days of summer in which college football fans like me wait for the season to begin while munching on every morsel of football news emanating from their beloved program, I caught a replay of the movie Fever Pitch on TV. I'd seen it a couple of times. I relate to it because my passion for college football mirrors the passion for the Red Sox portrayed in the movie. In a pivotal scene, Ben is trying to explain why this is so important to him. He has been attending Red Sox games since he first went with his uncle twenty-three years ago at the age of seven. The crowd he sits around has become his family. His friends jockey for the games they get to go to. She's been to a few games, but she still doesn't get it. He asks Lindsey a question: "Do you still care about anything you cared about 23 years ago?"
One question explains the power of sports. I suppose for others this could be movies or music (both of which I love as well), but for me, that passion has been college football. I am enthralled by the atmosphere and nostalgia of it. In high school you play for your school because you are zoned for it. In the NFL you play for the team that picks you and chooses to employ you. A college roster is filled with 100 guys who chose the school, and the stands are filled with alumni who also chose the school and local fans who grew up cheering for the hometown team. They are still kids, but they are remarkably gifted athletically.
Each school has a fight and strange traditions. In the SEC, most of the uniforms even still look the same as they did in the '60's and '70's. This is why I love going to the games. The bands, the colors, the pageantry, the tailgating...the electricity in the air. And every time I walk into a stadium, I am flooded with memories of yesteryear. I am reminded of the drive down Hwy. 106 from Carnesville to Athens coming from South Carolina. I'm reminded of sitting with my parents and hugging strangers after a big win. I'm reminded of my hand in my Daddy's back pocket walking through the crowd, so I wouldn't get lost. I'm reminded of pre-game battles of touch football. I'm reminded of eating BBQ chicken and 'talking football' with men 40 years older than me. In the pregame, we were equal. There is no age when you are worried about how healthy your tailback is or if the D can stop that passing offense they've got. You are simply fans together. And I hold these memories with my boys now. I'm the dad, still caring about something I cared about 33 years ago when I saw Herschel Walker play live and in person. My boys draw pictures of their favorite players like I drew mine. And we celebrate with football friends that are like family and see the same faces around our seats, each of them amazed as they've watched my boys grow up with every passing September. That's why it matters, because so few things in life matter beyond a few years. We change jobs and houses. We lose touch with friends and find new friends. But we never change teams, and we share the same memories with our children that our parents shared with us. It matters because it has always mattered, and besides our faith and our family, few things always matter in our lives.
But it doesn't matter THAT much. I recently read an article about Greg McGarity's first five years as Athletics Director at the University of Georgia. They asked him what was the most difficult moment in those five years. I thought, "It had to be that Liberty Bowl loss to Central Florida, or the devastating loss to Alabama in the 2012 SEC Championship Game. Or maybe it was when a string of players go arrested." His answer was surprising, telling and humbling. It was when Jonathan Taylor, an outfielder for the UGA baseball team, was paralyzed during a collision in which he and a teammate both dove for a ball. Because that's the kind of stuff that matters. These are just games. They are supposed to be fun. They should be fun. They should be disappointing when you lose. But they don't matter THAT much. An athlete who can't walk ever again after giving his all while competing...THAT matters.
As another college football season draws near, let us remember (especially here in the Deep South), that the reason this matters so much really isn't about wins and losses. It's the traditions, camaraderie and glory of it all that makes it matter each and every year, whether our team is champions or chumps that season. And winning is fun, but it won't last. There will still be bills to pay and life to live the next Monday. It's a burst of joy, a few months of relief, but it's not life and death. We'd trade a thousand wins for a kid to walk again. Football and sports are about people and relationships. They are about learning to compete and overcome adversity. For those that are people of faith, this ought to be crystal clear, but when we are looking glasses tinted with our teams favorite color, sometimes it's easy to forget.
Enjoy the season!
No comments:
Post a Comment