Can one apply the dictum, "Hate the sin but love the sinner" to sports?"
The UT Longhorns (12 -0) are on their way to the Rose Bowl for the national title game against USC on Janurary 4. They beat Colorado 70 - 3 in the Big 12 Championship game in Houston last Saturday. With its two professional football teams not in contention for anything (the Dallas Cowboys {7-5} and the Houston Texans predictably with the worst NFL standing {1-11}), Texas has been watching its flagship college team with breathless anticipation all year. My neighbors are gleeful. Burnt orange jackets, hats, shirts and "Hook'em Horns" logos are everywhere. Even some postal workers don Longhorn smocks over their uniform these days. 2005 has been a banner year (UT has never had a 12-0 season before) for the University of Texas. UT basketball is ranked number 1. With the 2005 collegiate baseball championship under their belt earlier this year, the Longhorns are at the top of their game in three NCAA sports. The UT football team is deemed "unstoppable", "impregnable" and most famously, "inVinceable" - after its stellar performer Quarter Back Vince Young, on whom rests much of the hope of a national championship. The UT football squad has been described as comprising "one extra-terrestrial (Vince Young) and ten average earthlings."
I am a Longhorn parent - my son graduated from UT. I am a diehard sports fan. I will probably watch the Rose Bowl game on TV and root for Texas. But I am hardly terribly excited. Why not? I don't like football. I grew up around soccer (the real football) and cricket. The highlight of my two year stay in Germany was watching European League soccer. I love tennis (the only sport I follow faithfully nowadays). I watch baseball and basketball when the play off and championship seasons come around. I don't watch much TV except for news and documentary shows. But when I do, I would rather watch sports than sitcoms. I read the sports page of the newspaper at least cursorily every day even when nothing very exciting is going on.
So what's wrong with football? It's a misnomer for one thing - "football" to the rest of the world evokes an entirely different, more elegant sport. I have never understood why a game where only one lonely player can kick the ball should have this misleading name. The brutal way the game is played and by the ridiculous shape and size of the participants, one would think that "Sumo in Space Suits" would be more appropriate. It is somewhat of a surprise that given my interest in almost any kind of athletic activity and the places I have lived in, I never did learn to appreciate American Football.
I have lived in Oklahoma, Nebraska and Texas - can you think of any more football friendly places in the country than these three? My first exposure to football in the US was in Oklahoma during the glory days of Barry Switzer. I watched with bemusement as Oklahomans descended into mass insanity every Saturday in the fall. When the Sooners beat Penn State at the Orange Bowl in 1985, the state erupted into uncontrollable hysteria which took a while to subside. I lived for eleven years in Husker Heaven Nebraska, when Tom Osborne was God. I saw first hand the ecstasy brought forth by the back to back national titles of 1994 - 95, to be repeated shortly thereafter, in 1997. For the last seven years, I have lived in Texas where football fever begins with Friday evening's high school games followed by Saturday's college football and ends with Sunday's NFL matches.
But football in Nebraska was different from what I have seen anywhere else. It went beyond fanatic fan following - it was more like organized religion. Everyone knew the prescribed ritual and every Nebraskan was a true believer. At the end of summer when the corn was in the silo and the schools reopened, the entire state of Nebraska shifted gears and all eyes turned to the "boys in red" starting practice in Lincoln. Conversations began and ended with the prospects of the Huskers and what Coach Osborne might do to ensure bringing home the National Championship trophy that Nebraskans all through the 1990's, believed was rightfully theirs. "Go Big Red" signs and paraphernelia flooded stores everywhere. Come snow, ice and the worst inclement weather, fans would faithfully head for Lincoln to see the Huskers play. All eleven years that we lived in Nebraska, every home game at Memorial Stadium was sold out. The bleak snowy and icy days from late October onwards were brightened by the bold red of the home team, favored by citizens. Yet, for all their dogged devotion, Nebraska fans were distinctive in their decency and gentle demeanor. Perhaps they were channeling their beloved Coach Osborne - a thorough gentleman whose midwestern reserve and sobriety were legendary. There was very little public hooliganism associated with the Huskers' wins and losses. Disappointment at Bowl games was shrugged off and Nebraskans stoically went about their business until September came around again ... and hearts began beating faster once more. We left Nebraska around the same time that Tom Osborne retired. It has been a downhill slide for Husker football ever since.
Except for its brutal winters, my memories of Nebraska are very pleasant. My children grew up and graduated from high school there. We have many good Nebraskan friends. Life was almost bucolic and quite peaceful. And some time during those eleven years, I suspect, a subliminal message about Husker Football must have lodged itself in my brain. It is more than seven years since we left Nebraska and I still do not like the game of football. But when fall comes around, the air turns cooler (even in Houston) and the football season begins, I find myself scouring the sports pages with a vague sense of nostalgia - looking up Big 12 game scores and wishing that the Nebraska Cornhuskers would once again be the kings of college football.
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