Sports Frenemies

 

In my pursuit of excellence, I've undertaken the necessary steps to prove that I'm smarter than everyone else by getting an advanced degree. When I began taking online courses, I came across one who said that they’d also lived in Utah for a while. That piqued my interest, and I mentioned that it is my current home state. We discovered we had many common interests, ranging from the things we read and like to write, all the way to the fact that we both like trolling Millennials and beating them at their own game. In the course of getting to know this individual better, surprisingly, I learned that they rooted for the University of Utah (U of U)'s football team.

 

That's when I knew the honeymoon was over.

 

For the sake of protecting this individual, I won’t call them by what they claim to be their real name. Instead, I‘ll just call her Amie (did I spell that right? I know she's reading this). As a third-generation graduate of Brigham Young University (BYU), the rival of the school she roots for, it is my sworn duty to uphold the reputation of my alma mater by denouncing the U of U every chance I get. Why, you ask? Just because.

 

Actually, I have a longer (and exponentially more detailed) answer. Hold on to your hats ‘cause we're going for a ride.

 

In sports, they say competition is a healthy thing. I don't know who all belongs in the “they” category, to be honest. Coaches and teammates? Parents and family members? Maybe the opposing player you just embarrassed, who's now crying for Mommy? Whatever. I do agree with that statement, though. You run faster when someone is running in the lane next to you. You most certainly run faster when that “someone” is running after you with the intention of ripping your head off. Such is the beauty of sports competitions.

 

            Having some opposition is good. How else will we know how good/bad we are at something if there's no one else around? What I don't get is this whole concept of rivalries that has gotten intertwined in the mix. When did wanting to do your best transition into hating someone else's guts? And furthermore, why is this such an integral part of our sports culture? What's the point? Bragging rights? Schadenfreude? Being able to write a blog post where you finally get to use the word “Schadenfreude?”

 

            We've all seen rivalries. Michael Jordan vs Larry Bird, Yankees vs Red Sox, Muhammad Ali vs . . . , well, pretty much the entire world. All it takes is a sport where there are at least two competitors and “Ta-Da!”-- instant drama at the expense of hating the other person's guts. And let's not kid ourselves; this stuff can be fun to watch. But have you ever taken the time to really consider what the hell is wrong with this picture?

 

            As I said, I'm a graduate of BYU. I also stated we are in-state rivals of another (supposed) institution of higher learning known as the U of U. This rivalry has been nicknamed the Holy War. Our schools’ combined histories of hate began in the late 19th century with a baseball game that ended with both teams clearing the benches in an all-out brawl. 

 

Did I mention that Utah has a lot of Mormons? That’s supposed to be a peace-loving religion, right? I guess the whole “thou shalt not kill” thing doesn't apply to sports. Funny how many Christian sects forget how to love their neighbor when in the heat of athletic competition. And, for the record, no, the Crusades don't fall into this category. That was just a bunch of bored Medieval guys who didn't want to share their holy land, so they embarked on a useless war (more than once).

 

            Actually, now that I think about it, that last part isn't too far off from the truth. Rivalries are full of people with nothing better to do than engage in useless bouts based on hate rather than honest competition. Some perpetrators of rivalries may claim that the “hate” gives the competitors “focus.” I‘m sorry, but does that sound like Emperor-Palpatine-Dark-Side speech to anybody else? I’m calling out rivalries for what they are--Total BS.

 

            Now, in order to call out this unnecessary practice, I have to confess my participation in its unwritten rituals, and not just my created beef with Amie. My rivalry from college was not my first. Nor was the one in high school. I was indoctrinated in the ways of rivalry back in junior high. Granted, the high schools influenced the junior high atmosphere in the area, but that's where it began.

 

            Like many adolescents, I played sports in school. I don't blame everything that is wrong with me on my meager athletic pursuits, but I can't say they made me a saint either. Each team sport I did was the same. I tried out, practiced with the team, competed, and somewhere along the line was told how to identify the Spawns of Satan that would be the targets of my unholy, venomous wrath. For the sake of fairness, I'll just refer to these people as the “opposing team” whose chief crime was (wait for it--this is the really important part) . . . NOT being on my team.

 

            Now, how did simple-minded me learn that avarice was an acceptable attitude? Why, peer pressure of course! My teammates and classmates were all doing it, and junior high school is the wrong place to try and break with tradition. Oh, by the way, in case you're wondering where we as youngsters learned this behavior, it came from our coaches. That's right. For football practice, they had us take our rival's football helmet (no idea how they got that) and take turns beating the hell out of it (that's called “bonding,” I believe). The cheerleading coach was worse. She got into it by creating specific cheers that called out the breeding choices of our rivals’ mothers (I think that's called “school spirit”). Why, even our principal, when doing announcements, would refuse to say the name of the rival institution, referring to them instead as “that school across the river” (that was what he called “funny,” but knowing our principal, I'm pretty sure that was a lie). 

 

            So, after a few years of this indoctrination, I knew how to handle myself during competition. I'd always do my best, but if a certain opponent wearing a certain color uniform with a certain unspeakable school name printed on it dared challenge me, my path was clear: Beat them. Beat them bad. Then trash-talk them until they wet themselves and run home crying. My preferred opening line was to call them a “poo-poo head.”

 

            This indoctrination works pretty well, that is, so long as you’re winning. None of my coaches or peers had any instructions on how to lose to our rival, and certainly no one had any insights on how to do so with any level of dignity. Yet that was my dilemma during my last year at junior high. During the track and field championships, one of the other team's athletes dared to challenge my rightful place as the dominant runner. Well, not only did he dare, but he wiped the floor with me. Not knowing what else to do after such a humiliating loss, I did what any normal teenage boy would do–I plotted my revenge.

 

            I had a full year until I could get back at this guy, during which time we both transitioned to our respective high schools. This is where a simple rivalry between two academic institutions can transform into a feudal war on steroids. We both did different sports in the fall, so I let myself stew on my revenge plot during that time. Then, without warning, we crossed paths by accident.

 

The setting was an annual Halloween event with a haunted house. Not just any regular haunted house; we're talking the kind where you have to bring a change of underwear. Kids got grey hair early because of it. Anyways, there was a large gymnasium full of other activities to do while you waited for your chance to go through the house and soil yourself from fright. One involved tying a bungee cord to your back, then running at top speed down an inflatable ramp to see how far you could get. Then, of course, physics would take over, and you would be yanked backwards by your spinal cord, hopefully keeping your pants on in the process. It was all in good fun, the adult organizers said, but they would only let victims experience this approved torture in pairs. When I approached to have my chance at this humiliating amusement, there was no one around to join me . . . except him.

 

I'll never forget this guy. He was tall and muscled, tanned, had blond hair and perfect teeth. Imagine the opposite of that, and you have . . . a really dorky-looking loser who in no way, shape or form resembled adolescent awesomeness that was me (okay, fine, you have me at age fourteen). I couldn't help but despise this guy’s perfectness. But I knew better than to try and confront him off the field of competition. Instead, I gave him a pass and agreed to join him in this innocent activity that can only be described as a human slingshot. This is where I learned the unexpected truth--this guy wasn't a jerk.

 

Quite the opposite. He was funny, complimentary, and not at all the fire-breathing demon “poo-poo head” I’d thought him to be. I was floored (both by the realization and the human slingshot thingy). When our paths crossed again months later he remembered me. In fact, I looked forward to when we competed just to be able to hang out with the guy. That's when I really woke up and began to unravel this whole rivalry nonsense. 

 

For some reason, competition put blinders on me. The obvious truth had been staring me in the face this whole time. The team and school I was supposed to hate were full of people I already knew, and I can say (for the most part) they weren't jerks. I’d done performances with these people, attended scout camps with them. Heck, I even went to church with some of them. Why did putting on an athletic uniform change all of that? 

 

The more I thought about it, the more it didn't make sense, and I decided to write off the whole rivalry thing. That is, until, of course, I did something completely inexcusable that made me forget all the valuable lessons from school.

 

 . . . I went to college. 

 

University rivalries make high school look like a children’s playdate with the Montagues and the Capulets. Remember, I attended BYU. My parents and siblings all went there. I was raised in the culture of rooting for Cougar Blue and dissing on Utah Red. Brothers refused to speak to each other if one chose the wrong school. Fathers disowned their daughters if they married someone from the other side. The way I thought was no different. Why? For no other reason than because I thought it was expected of me. Competition is supposed to bring out the best, both in athletes and spectators alike, right? A healthy rivalry should do the same, right?

 

Wrong. In my brief history with the Holy War, I've witnessed the following moments that brought out the so-called “best” in athletes and fans:

·         A BYU fan tackling a Ute cheerleader running across the field with the team flag. 

·         Utah fans dumping beer on the wife of a BYU football player.

·         A Utah Athletic Director going on a public (and televised) tirade after a loss.

·         A basketball player attacking an opponent with an elbow across the face.

·         Cops arresting unruly fans in the bleachers (multiple times). 

 

            And that's just what I've seen. I know for a fact there have been countless displays like this, where folks in this rivalry are at their “best.” To make matters worse, there are dozens, maybe hundreds, of similar pairs of feuding teams in this country, with equally horrible examples of human behavior at its “best.” Some may wonder, “Where does it stop?” I think we should first ask where it begins. The answer to that is simple: Pride.

 

            There's a reason why Pride is one of the Seven Deadly Sins. I believe it starts as Confidence or Self-worth, both positive attributes actually, but when our fragile egos are threatened with experiencing even an ounce of humility, we instead raise our shields with an easier, yet more lethal feeling. The false notion that you are better than someone is the core of Pride's hidden poison. The truth is, eventually, you have to realize that you are not always going to be the best. True winners, in my infallible opinion, have learned to embrace loss and grow from it. The actual “Losers” are those who cannot comprehend a world with setbacks, and their denial of reality leads to an illusion of superiority.

 

            Thus concludes the philosophic portion of this essay. 

 

            Now that we know the cause of this rivalry plague, we can work on a cure. For any athletes in any rivalry, replace your hate with respect. Be content with the fact that the competition will determine who won the day.  Also, learn to be okay with disappointments. Why? Because that's life! Life is not always fair! Neither is competition! Sure, the officials may not have called things your way. Perhaps your opponents had a bit of luck on their side. In the end, it's just a game (I know--Gasp!). Failure is an opportunity for growth. Learn from your mistakes (‘cause we all make them) and move on. 

 

            Now, my advice for the fans is more to the point: Grow the F**K up!

 

            Was that too harsh? Did your feelings get hurt? If so, then you're part of the friggin’ problem! I am sick and tired of dealing with fans who cannot let it go, whether their team wins or loses. I've learned how to humble fans like this real quick. Let me show you how.

 

OPPOSING FAN (O.F.): Your team sucks!

ME: Why's that?

O.F.: Because of (insert whatever blatant nonsense they want to spout)!

ME: And that makes you better?

O.F.: Well, yeah!

ME: Answer me one question--are you a player for your team?

O.F.: Uhhh, no. 

ME: Sooo, you're taking credit for someone else's work?

O.F.: Umm, no, . . . I mean . . . 

ME: Do you have nothing better to do with your life than to live vicariously through a sports team whose performance ultimately means nothing in the outcome of your life?

O.F.: What are you talking about! This team is my life!

ME: Sooo, the answer’s “no?”

 

At this point, the Opposing Fan will most likely be looking for an exit strategy (hopefully one that doesn’t include me getting punched in the face), for they have just been confronted by some truths they don't wish to face. Number 1-- I don't give a damn. And, Number 2--Their fanaticism means nothing in the long run. Indifference is a concept that crazy fanatics everywhere around the world have a hard time accepting. They figure if they spend so much time investing their energy and resources towards supporting their team, that everyone else should automatically grant them permission to obnoxiously tout that team's success all the livelong day. 

 

Ok, fine. Go ahead and celebrate. There was much rejoicing (yay). Your team won. Now what? Oh, wait, what if your team lost? Ok, you have my permission to pout just a little bit. But let me give you a way to measure if your celebratory or grief levels are appropriate. If, after a week, you’re still going on and on about the results of a simple game, you've gone too far. Are you having a hard time finding something better to do, other than finding a reason to point out your rival's shortcomings? If so, then I don't think the opposing team is the real problem. Should your team win, enjoy the win, and then get on with your life. If your team loses, deal with it and find something more productive to do (and quickly for everyone else's sake).

 

Now, the next bit may come as a shocker to you, but I believe there is room for "healthy” rivalries. “Wait!” I hear you say. “There's no such thing!” Perhaps you're thinking all rivalries have to involve hate speech and bloodshed. No, that's what we call “gratuitous violence,” which is what we call in the adult business “stupid.” I mean someone you look forward to competing against, and you can have mutual fun at each other's limited expense. 

 

Let me provide an example. The BYU and U of U football game in 2009. The previous year, BYU lost at Utah. Quarterback Max Hall threw five interceptions in that game, and BYU lost by a lot. This year, both teams had winning seasons, were ranked in the Top 25, and their match-up would determine their final standing. Needless to say, emotions were running high for the rematch.

 

I was in the stands with my wife and her family in the back row. The seat to my left was occupied by a lone Ute fan. Admittedly, I was wary of this man, wearing his bright red in a very blue stadium. I was wondering if he was either brave or foolish as the senior players were being announced. When Hall's name was read, this Ute fan said “There goes our MVP.”

 

Now, at that moment I could have taken offense, maybe decked the guy, or at the very least called him a “poo-poo head.” But dammit, what he said was funny! I even told him as much as I tried to subdue my laughter. It's not like he was slapping me with a glove and challenging me to a formal duel (which would've been awesome--just sayin’). The game began, and we continued talking. As the competition went on, we developed a respectful bond established by our combined appreciation for the game, the players, everything. We complimented and critiqued plays from both teams, and, as fans are wont to, criticized the refs if they so much as scratched their butt the wrong way. We were, against the odds, enjoying a sport we both loved.

 

Then came the end of the contest. As was fitting, the game went into overtime. On the last play, Hall connected with Tight End Andrew George for a touchdown, giving the win to the Cougars (“By George, I think he's caught it!). The home crowd went bonkers, myself included. But my fellow football-loving fan/rival could only look on with disappointment. That’s something we often forget--there's always someone who loses.

 

I didn't have to think twice about what to do next. 

 

Extending my hand, I said. “Good luck with your bowl game.”

 

With a smile, he shook my hand and said, “You too.”

 

Now I could go on and on about the deep psychological happenings here, and how my mastery of human behavior allowed me to navigate the treacherous waters of highly toxic sports rivalries. But I’m more humble than that. Plus, the solution is much simpler. You see, all I had to do was not act like a jerk. You get further in life that way. 

 

This all (finally) brings me back to Amie, my fellow student who has the nerve to root for the Utes. I admit, there is still the urge to tell my favorite jokes poking fun at her team (and some of these are HA-ARSH!). Maybe I'll share a few with her. It depends on if I can tell she's someone who doesn't take the rivalry waaayyyy too seriously. OR . . . maybe I can put aside this rivalry nonsense and make a new friend. Yeah, that sounds more worthwhile. You can never have too many friends. So I think I’ll refrain from calling Amie a “poo-poo head.”

 

Instead, I'll just say she has cooties.