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.