Life As an Afterschool Special

42-39 OSU

I enjoy a good football game. I really do. In fact, in my hometown after three years of writing for the local paper, more people remember and comment on the one article I wrote about my last home football game than any other piece I have written. Then again, I grew up in Michigan, and football in is their blood. (Don’t let the Lions season fool you… we do football in Michigan)

After high school I went to Ohio State and wrote for the Lantern before I transferred to North Central. I chose Ohio State out of loyalty to my father and my mother’s family, who are all from Columbus. I remember opening the letter and discovering that I was accepted at OSU. Everyone was very excited, but they were more excited that I would have first pick at football tickets to OSU games than by the prospects of my academic career. And I did go to a few football games. I even took my little brother to a game on my 19th birthday. I wore the jerseys and painted my face and had more scarlet and grey clothing that I ever needed. I remember my first Christmas as an OSU student I bought every person in both my families OSU gear. Go team.

Even now I like a good football game. And I LOVE a man who loves football. I think it’s because men who love football and are excited by a team are loyal and passionate. (You have to be passionate and loyal to follow a team with a 2/7 record. LIONS). I like football because I like loyalty.

Which brings me to my guandry. It’d be that time of year. Oh yes, this weekend is THE game. Which game is that you ask? The Ohio State/Michigan game. Hands down the best game of the big ten every season. And the game that every person in Ohio and Michigan look forward to. I don’t know a single person from Ohio or Michigan who doesn’t hype “the game”. There might as well not be a season… just that one game and everyone would be satisfied. Columbus is going to be INSANE this weekend. It always is on “the game” day.

So who do I cheer for? Michigan? My hometown? Land of the Blue and Gold (which were also my high school colors). The state where my mom and my dad and my sisters all cheer and root for the boys in blue? Or do I go with Ohio State? The good ol buckeyes? The land of my ancestors. Where they bleed scarlet and grey?

The truth is… I like a good game. I like a close game. And while I usually cheer for OSU (it’s true, scarlet and grey is in my blood) I don’t really care who wins. I think its just good football. And that makes us all winners. (and that was such a cheesy line)

So… I know I will be this Saturday. Cheering… for the game.

Give me some peanuts and cracker jacks….

So baseball isnt normally my thing. I know its the great american pastime and all…

Don’t get me wrong, I dont dislike it. I played Softball in highschool, and still watch my brothers play in leagues in the summer. I understand the game, and I like the game. I would even go so far to say I love the game when people I know are playing. But I have never really gotten into professional baseball.

It isnt as fast paced as my favorite sport, hockey. It isnt as exciting as my second favorite sport, football. They score way less than my third favorite sport, basketball.

Everything in baseball has always just seemed less colorful to me. The players arent as exciting. No one tackles eachother. Fights almost never break out. What kind of man sport involves almost no man to man contact at all?

Plus I just never had a team I loved. Its hard to get passionate about a sport you have no vested interest in. “Who won? Who cares.” has always been my motto in baseball.

But this year something is changing.

This year an underdog emerged. And I LOVE underdogs. Any time I am watching a game where I dont care who wins or loses (like most superbowls) I always root for the team everyone thinks is going to lose. Because someone has to.

And maybe I have watched too many Hollywood movies like Rudy and Miracle but I love a comeback and a happy ending. I have been known to cry at the end of games.

I am sucker for the underdog, and I found my underdog in baseball.

The twins were trailing in the Central division by as many as 12 1/2 games back in May, and everyone thought their season was all but over. It should have been over. But somehow they began to rally from behind, and won 21 of their next 23 games.

I dont know enough about the season to tell you how it happened… but it did. And everyone noticed, because people like to cheer for the Comeback Kid. The underdog. The dome, which is 5 blocks from my house, was half full at the beginning of the season and is sold out now. And there is literally parties in the streets celebrating the Twins victory and Tigers loss this weekend.

And the funny thing is I started to care. I started to watch. I started to get excited. I started to understand why people love this sport.

How far will the streak go… can the Twins take it all the way to the World series? I have no idea… but I know I have been converted, and I will be cheering them along the way.

When I was in high school I had my own column in the local paper.

It was a “students view” of what was happening in our town.

Our town LOVED football. They still do. Its like Varsity Blues or something.

My parents went to almost every home game for eight years.

They have the tee shirts, and the sweat shirts, and the jackets.

All of my sisters and I had varsity jackets. We wore blue and gold ribbions in our hair and the boys jerseys to games. We painted paw prints on our faces. We had SPIRIT.

We were PROUD of the home team.

One of my most “famous” articles was about my last highschool home game. After I wrote it grown men came up to me with tears in their eyes and told me that the loved it, that they saved it, that it reminded them of their “glory days”

I was 18. And completely overdramtic, but I had a passion to write and passion for my town and passion for the game.

So here it is….

On Friday I stood on the football field with my eyes closed tightly. Perhaps I was trying to capture the moment, or perhaps I knew if I opened my eyes the tears I felt would soon overflow. I felt as if by closing my eyes, I could immortalize every detail of the night in time. I would remember the crisp autumn air, the full moon, the starry sky, and the thrill of a close game.

It was the last time the class of 1997 would play at home, and I felt a bit nostalgic as I stood on the field.

Over the past four years I have been to countless football games, but it is only now that I truly appreciate what I had. I have come to respect and admire the boys who dedicate so much to our school. I have watched them experience triumph and sorrow on the field, and I have seen them grow because of it.

I have enjoyed watching Coach Rowley. I know he feels every glorious moment of victory and every agonizing moment of defeat along side his athletes. I see it in his face. I have enjoyed the fans, the cheerleaders, the band, and the spirit of the game. I have enjoyed the things you can always count on seeing, like Blue and Gold in the stands and Coach Rowley’s bright yellow pants. I know I will come here many more times in my life, but it will never mean what it does now.

I felt it, and so did many of my friends around me. It was obvious in each of their faces.

It was also obvious in the eyes of the senior athletes. As the boys walked off the field there were tears in their eyes. The field was a place where dreams were made and broken. It was a place where boys became men, and destines were fulfilled. It is the place where their memories will linger on long after they are gone.

As the night drew to a close I reached down and took a small handful of grass off the field. I held it in my hand, taking a piece of the past with me. I looked around at the individuals I had spent the past four years with, and I realized no matter how far we are from one another, we are always united in our history. The class of 1997 held on to each other for a moment, finding comfort in shared experiences.

Then we turned and left the field the same way we entered…together.

Ok so it is cheesy.

Especially the “It was a place where boys became men, and destines were fulfilled” line.

But I meant it at the time.

And the truth is I still mean it.

I loved my high school.

I loved my friends.

I loved going to the games.

And even now, nine years later, that article takes me back to that autumn night… when I believed anything was possible.

And it is true… that no matter how far we go, we ARE always united in our memories.

(go wildcats)