I hate sports, I love sports

Late Friday night I celebrated as the BYU Basketball team pulled off an upset against #6 ranked Louisville. It was truly a great moment. However, less than 24 hours later I was questioning why I had ever become a sports fan. The Utes Darrell Mack, who must have taken rivalry week interviewing tips from former Cougar Curtis Brown, waltzed into the end zone with only a 1:34 left in the game. Except for a few cheers coming from the upper rows, Edwards Stadium had gone silent. Well, there was that eerie sound of 60,000 hearts breaking. Remember in “A Christmas Story” when the bully Scut Farkus hits Ralphie in the face with a snowball and Ralphie subsequently snaps, losing all control. Every time I see a U of U fan celebrate, it’s like I have just been hit in the face with a snowball. Now I’ve matured a bit in my old age, but my frustration was still very evident. Why had BYU wasted so many scoring opportunities? Why did the officials call pass interference on Austin Collie? Why can’t Harvey Unga catch a sure touchdown pass? How could we let Utah win seven of the last eight games played in Provo? Why am I a sports fan when I can’t control the outcome? At about this point in my rant I saw Max Hall on fourth down sidestep a defender, roll right, and release a forty-nine yard bomb that landed softly in the arms of Collie. New life! The stadium erupted. Strangers were hugging strangers. Fans who were leaving the game early to get a jump on traffic now stood in the aisles cursing their regrettable decision. Most of all, Ute fans were silenced, left only with memories of Doman in 2000, Staley in 2001, and the still fresh memory of Beck in 2006. Shortly after, Unga scored, Collie caught a two-point conversion, and Brian Johnson’s final pass was knocked down in the end zone.

In a matter of five minutes I went from questioning my love for sports to being given a sweet reminder of why I love them so much. My sports philosophy is, which I heard in church but may have misunderstood, you can’t appreciate the good without knowing the bad. Saturday, in addition to the 2006 BYU / Utah game, has given us sports fans the rare opportunity to experience both the good and the bad in the same game. I have been lucky enough to have my team on the winning side of both of these contests, but this has not always been the case. I was there in 1993 when Utes kicker Chris Yergensen hit a 55 yard field goal to win the game. I was also there in 1994 when the Utes won for the second year in a row by the dreaded score of 34-31. I saw the Jazz lose to the Jordan and the Bulls, twice. I have seen the BYU Basketball team lose their last three NCAA Tournament games to UCONN, Syracuse, and Xavier all in the last minute. Before 2004 my beloved Red Sox showed me so much of the darkside that I still get chills even thinking about it. One game in particular was the 1995 ALDS game one against the Cleveland Indians in which former Red Sox catcher Tony Pena hit a game winning homerun in the thirteenth inning. This loss was so painful that it still hurt the next morning when I woke up. A “Tony Pena loss” is a term used by my friend Eric and I to describe any sports loss that has the ability to still hurt the next day. When Mack scored late in the fourth quarter on Saturday I got a text message from Eric. All it said was “Tony Pena.”

On the flipside, I saw Stockton’s three against Houston and Reid’s three against the Utes. In 2004 I saw the Red Sox beat the Yankees in seven and do it again in 2007 against the Indians. I saw the Utes Ryan Kaneshiro’s miss a game winning field goal in 1998, Beck to Harline in 2006, and fourth and eighteen in 2007. All of these were made sweeter by the losses listed above.

Now don’t get me wrong, winning is always better than losing. A BYU loss wasn’t necessary to make the 1984 season better, just ask the 1996 Cougars. Yet, losing is simply a reality of sports. No team is going to win every game that they play. What losing does, however, is create a true fan. Losing has a way of hurting so much that it seems to burn itself into your memory forever. You may wonder why you put yourself through such pain. However, time heals all wounds. The seven stages of grief could easily be called the seven stages of losing. First there is shock and disbelief, then denial, bargaining, guilt, anger, depression, and finally acceptance and hope. Through these stages you band together with fellow fans who help with your grief. It is a refining process, wiping away all the bandwagon fans. Together you discuss the game, analyze what went wrong, and finally utter the famous losers comment “wait until next year.” When you have said these words, you have finally accepted the loss and can move on.

In 2006 I cried when Johnny Harline caught the game winning touchdown against Utah. . Maybe I am insane and care too much, but losses in 2002, 2003, 2004, and 2005 sure made the win sweet. I had been through the refining process with “Tony Pena” type losses and had survived to not only enjoy, but relish that moment. When Darrell Mack scored on Saturday I thought that was it, game over. I had already started the grieving process. Then, in an instant, with one pass the game and my feelings changed. This is why I have such a passion for sports. They can break your heart, but they can also provide you with unmatched excitement. The lows sure hurt, but the highs are sure sweet.

Rivalry Week

Ah, Rivalry Week. . . strike up the band, wear your favorite team’s colors, and lose every ounce of moral judgment that you have. People treat rivalry week like they are in Las Vegas. What happens during rivalry week stays in rivalry week. Want to go throw a bucket of paint on a statue at your rival’s campus? Fifty-one weeks a year this would be considered vandalism, but during rivalry week it is just considered harmless fun. Want to throw snowballs at your rival’s cheerleaders. Go ahead! How dare they cheer for their team? All in all, any inhibition you might have during the rest of the year can be set aside, because it is rivalry week.

I can’t point a finger at others without pointing one at myself. I could use a few sessions at rivalry week anonymous. “My name is Mike and I lose all self-respect during rivalry week.” I knew I had a problem and needed help four years ago. My beloved BYU Cougars were stuck in the miserable Crowton regime, while the hated Utah Utes were being coached by the Urban legend (or myth, I still haven’t decided). When it became clear that the Utes were going to hold on to their 3-0 victory, I became enraged. As I stomped down the stadium stairs cursing Crowton and the pathetic team he had fielded, a Ute fan got in my face. Now to be clear, if I had traveled up to Salt Lake City, I would expect to be taunted by the fans. However, when I am in Provo at Edwards stadium, I don’t want to hear anything from the opposing fans. My anger boiled over and I shared a few kind words with this Ute fan. An old lady standing next to me reacted as if her ears were burning, having never heard such foul words. I wasn’t in the mood to have BYU security get involved, so I shared one more kind word and continued out of the stadium. As I neared the exits I heard someone above call me a name that would surely have had the Honor Code office scrambling. I looked up and saw my new friend, still basking in the victory. I carefully pulled off my gloves, put them in my pocket, and raised two of my fingers in a salute that Wyoming Coach Joe Glenn would have been proud of. Yes, it was at that point that I knew I needed help.

To be fair, I didn’t create the hatefulness that exists in the BYU / Utah rivalry, I just live in it. During the 1980’s the use of the word rivalry would have elicited some laughs. Both teams have to be competitive for it to be a rivalry, and Utah certainly wasn’t. However, in 1993 Utah began a stretch of three consecutive victories and the rivalry was reborn. The media also gave the rivalry a new name, “The Holy War.” This is, in my opinion, where the rivalry went wrong. A group of priests and nuns playing a flag football could be called a holy war. You may even get away with calling a game between BYU and Notre Dame a holy war. However, to call the BYU / Utah rivalry a “Holy War” makes no sense. BYU is a private university funded by the LDS Church, while Utah has zero religious affiliations (confirmed by the behavior of some of its fans). By using the term “Holy War,” the media is using religious beliefs and differences to create hatred. I not only have to defend the Cougar football team, but also my religious beliefs at the annual rivalry game. In a nation that cries for the separation of church and state, I cry for the separation of church and football.

By adding the element of religion the BYU / Utah rivalry is now tainted. Football is, after all, just a game. Sports and competition are great. They add an element of fun to our mostly monotonous lives. A rivalry is even better. It adds an extra bit of drama and excitement to the sport. However, when a rivalry reaches the point that opposing fans not only dislike each other but also despise and hate each other, there is a problem. It stops being a game and starts being personal. Not only are you told that your team sucks or your quarterback sucks, but you suck as well. . .and so does your mom! The focus shifts away from the game and onto the war between the opposing fans. What’s sad is when you consider the fact that none of us are actually playing the game. Neither head coach is going to call anyone of us out of the stands to suit-up. I can wear my lucky socks and all the blue that I want to, but in the end, I cannot affect the outcome of the game.

I left Edwards stadium four years ago and felt like a complete fool and a jerk. I let the rivalry go beyond just a game. So I took a step back and realized that the loss really didn’t matter much. The opposing fans would gloat for a day or two and life would continue forward. My behavior was inexcusable. Add to this that I now have a two-month old daughter and I can’t help but wonder what she would think of me if she had seen the way I behaved that day. It kind of puts it into perspective. Cheer hard and have fun, but remember that it is not you versus me or you versus my religion. It is simply BYU versus Utah. GO COUGARS!!!!

A Different World

I was reading the Sporting News the other night. A Yankees fan was quoted as saying that Red Sox fans base their entire existence on what the Yankees do. I must say, one of the most enjoyable aspects of winning two World Series in the last four years, is watching Yankee fans pathetic attempts to cling to some past dominance. I will admit that the Red Sox / Yankees rivalry has been one of the best in sports over the past decade. However, the comment made by this bitter Yankee fan could in reality be turned in the opposite direction. Who’s existence is based on who?

Up until the moment the Red Sox celebrated on the field at Yankee Stadium in 2004, Yankee fans celebrated in the Sox fans misfortunes. One could say that 1918 and the Curse of the Bambino meant more to the Yankee fans than it did to the Red Sox fans. Numerous signs were plastered all over Yankee Stadium reminding everyone, as if anyone had forgotten, that the Red Sox hadn’t won a championship in 86 years. Tee-shirts were made asking Sox fans to “Kiss the Rings.” It didn’t matter that the Yankees ended up losing to the Diamondbacks and the Marlins in their last two World Series appearances. As long as they beat the Red Sox, all was right with the world. They had fun and did so at the expense of Red Sox fans.

The baseball world changed forever in a matter of five days in October of 2004. The Red Sox, trailing 3-0 in the ALCS to the Yankees, proceeded to win the next four games, the final two of which were in Yankee Stadium. It didn’t matter how the Red Sox had lost in 2003, 1986, or even 1978, because the Yankees had just pulled the greatest choke in baseball history. For Yankee fans, the fun stopped immediately. The voicemails and emails that had cluttered my in-boxes after game three suddenly stopped. When I left my own voicemails and emails, I was told to stop gloating, although it wasn’t gloating when the Yankee fans had done it all throughout the last decade.

In reality, I didn’t send many emails or make many phone calls and “gloat” after the great Red Sox comeback. The people I called were my dad, by brothers, and my good friends Eric and Brett, all of them diehard Red Sox fans. We celebrated the Red Sox success, not necessarily the fact that it had come against the Yankees. This is the point. Red Sox fans care about baseball and their team, not necessarily about the Yankees. This is not to say that the rivalry is not real or does not contain passion, but rather that Red Sox fans want to win regardless of the opponent. Do I enjoy when the Yankees lose? Absolutely! However, I don’t care more about the Yankees losing than the Red Sox winning. 1918 and the Curse of the Bambino had, in reality, more to do with the 1986 World Series than it did with the Yankees. The most painful loss in Red Sox history came in that series against the other team from New York, not the Yankees. I hate the Yankees as much as ever, but my existence as a Red Sox fan has nothing to do with them.