December 11, 2011
For those of you who are not sports fans, the next few paragraphs are going to read like a lot of blah de blah blah. I am using this forum as my "personal" diary to voice my frustration with the basketball game I watched yesterday.
Xavier and the University of Cincinnati played their annual crosstown shootout yesterday and XU won 76-53, but no one cares about the score. They had a brawl at the end of the game that was both ugly and embarrassing.
I am a graduate from Xavier University back in 1987. I LOVE Xavier basketball. As much as I have tried to not let it happen, the performance of my favorite basketball team affects my mood. I realize the stupidity of this when I watch Beth worry about stuff somewhat more important like the international finance market and how it affects our 401K, but I cannot help myself.
So there I was yesterday, prouder than I have ever been of my team during the game-for 39 minutes.
They played their best game of the year and they did it without any of the thuggish behavior that has occurred in games past. Sure, you could tell there was some woofing going on. Trash talk is part of the game sometimes, especially when you get a bunch of 20-something men together. In fact, I sometimes walk through a Walmart and trash talk the managers there.
Nice smiley face on your name tag!
Made in America, whatever!
Did Kathy Lee design your outfit!
Okay, I have not been in a Walmart in decades and I do not know from trash talk, but that is somewhat my point. I understand that college boys who came from different backgrounds than I, may go about things a different way than me.
They may listen to rap music. They may refer to themselves as gangstas or talk about putting the other team in a body bag-metaphorically; but that is where it needs to end. Especially when you are on full scholarship representing a university on a court in front of paying fans-AND THEIR CHILDREN.
You want to fight somebody during or after a game? Go back to your neighborhood playground. Don't get paid to represent my school, where I would love my son to go for free, and then instigate or participate in a brawl.
It was like watching my son being born...and then finding out I wasn't the father. (No, this did not happen to me).
Watching the game was like watching boys learn how to play tough and SMART and like the better team, and I was proud to be their fan; only to find out at the end that they were not proud to be my team.