I had
resisted writing about sports this entire fall because I didn’t want to jinx
the incredible run of my Kansas State Wildcats. Now I see it was unnecessary.
What a heartbreaking loss. Sunday morning when I got up I was still depressed.
I ate breakfast and went for a run and saw blue jays and cardinals and was
still depressed. I came back and read the scene in Uncle Tom’s Cabin where Tom is sold to Haley by Mr. Shelby and I
was still depressed about a freaking college football game. That is amazing
(and probably not a good thing). Being a fan is sheer madness. It is
volunteering for routine heartbreak, but we just keep deluding ourselves into
believing that there is that chance this time it won’t end in disaster. This
must be what Taylor Swift thinks at the start of a new relationship. Maybe this
time.
I have
been trying to put things in perspective. We started the year ranked 22nd
in the nation and projected to finish in the middle of the pack in our
conference. And then we won 10 games in a row. And if we rebound and beat Texas
in two weeks we will go to the Fiesta Bowl in Phoenix as the Big 12 champions.
If you had told me at the beginning of the year that we would go to the Fiesta
Bowl I would have been tickled pink. But such is the capriciousness of sports
that for a time it seemed that we could have more. National champions more. A
shot against Alabama or Oregon for it all. Now, sadly, the national title will
likely come down to Alabama beating Notre Dame 35-3. Two “classic” programs
squaring off in a terrible mismatch. And I will be disappointed with a BCS
game. There was a time when I was running much better than I do today and I was
trying to run a half marathon in under 90 minutes. My previous record was 105
minutes. I finished in 92 minutes and was depressed. This is the same thing. 92
minutes isn’t that good when you’re going for 90. The Fiesta Bowl isn’t Miami
on the final day of the college football season. Two years ago we went to the
freaking Pinstripe Bowl and now I am disappointed. I hate sports.
But, of
course, I love them, too. And I will always be a fan. I will always watch my
Wildcats. I thought a lot on my run the morning after about what it is to be a
fan and how glad I am to be a fan of the team that I love. Sure, I could become
an Alabama fan or a Notre Dame fan or a whoever has a shot every year to win it
all fan. I could also root for the Lakers/Heat, Yankees/ Giants, Patriots/
Steelers. But I am a K-State fan because it is in my blood. This team
represents my state and what I value. And I never let go of them even when
living in Colorado and Texas for a decade and a half. When I was an
undergraduate at Colorado State my drawers had one or two pieces of CSU apparel
and half a dozen K-State shirts. I love that they are small town. That their
recruiting class is always outside of the top half of Division 1 teams. That their
players wear suits and don’t mouth off on Twitter. That they are scrappy and
old school and led by a coach who would babysit an assistant coach’s children
after their mother died so they could get by. That I don’t have to worry about
a big scandal coming out of the program, like the vaunted Leaders Division of
the Big 10. I love this team.
And I hate
losing. But it comes with the territory. And, however little I feel it now, I do
believe it is worth the tradeoff. It is difficult to believe in anything,
whether a person or an institution or a religion. To believe exposes you and
opens you up to being letdown by someone or something outside of your control. It
is scary. And I don’t mean to oversell the importance of sports, but what is the
value of life without faith?
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