Wednesday, January 27, 2010

Always a Victor

Mostly we think of gifts as tangible objects, things that we give or receive for our birthdays or Christmas or some event that we deserve recognition for. We think of these things as a new shirt, or a gift certificate or something we can feel with our hands, an object we can use. Really, there are gifts of all different kinds, some tangible, some not, but usually the best gifts we receive are the ones that we cannot hold on to. The best gifts that I’ve received are my character traits, my hobbies, and many others of my favorite pastimes that have been passed down to me through family, friends, and life’s daily happenings. Let me tell you a story about my favorite gift that I have been given.

As a sports fan, we are often passed on our love of certain sports and teams from our families, and I am no exception. Although not necessarily in the same traditional sense as other kids, who’s parent’s might have given them a baseball cap at a young age, or told them stories of their favorite players, my family passed on a love for team just like the rest.

At a very young age, late in the fall, I was with my Grandma. Now she like most of my family was not a big sports fan, if a sports fan at all, but she had come to understand that I had mystically fallen in love with many of the different games I was able to watch on television or play in the back yard with my parents or friends. She was from the town of Port Clinton, Ohio, a state and city that is much different than Santa Barbara, the city that I grew up in. In Ohio, football is king, and The Ohio State University football team is the pride of most of the state. Many of her family members had been Buckeyes and were loyal supporters of the school. Fortunately for me, many of her other family members had attended “that school up North,” the one in Ann Arbor, a beautiful college town about an hour outside the city of Detroit. In fact, her brother-in-law James had taught at the University of Michigan for a long time and had influenced different aspects of change at the school. For those of you unfamiliar with these two schools, there exists a great rivalry between them. For years and years, the two have played legendary games with legendary figures that forever live in their history.

Although not a football fan herself, my Grandma was still was very much aware of the two schools and their clashes. She explained this, as best as she could to her young grandson that day. I don’t remember much of the details except that she told me that the game would be the following day, and that I should watch it. She also made a bet with me, one quarter, and she would root for her home-state Buckeyes. I don’t remember what year it was exactly, but I was most likely around five or six years old, which would make this about 1990 or 1991. Whatever year it was, Michigan won the game, and to my delight, I was a whole twenty-five cents richer. For the next eight, or nine years, every November when the two schools played, I could always expect a call from my Grandma the night before reminding me about the game, which I really needed no reminder of, and of our quarter bet on the game.

The 1990s were an awfully kind decade for the Michigan Wolverines as they won seven times, lost two and had one tie against their bitter rival. Essentially, during my more formative years, I always won a quarter, which kept me rooting for Michigan and turned me into a dedicated fan. Despite their recent struggles as a football team, my love for the school and the team lives on to this day. I toured the campus as a high school junior and although I did not attend Michigan, it forever holds a special place for me. I will always attribute my love for the school to my Grandma, who taught me about them, even if from the other side of things.

For me, “fandom” is a special thing. Not everyone understands what it means to root for a team and be lifted into pure elation, or have your heart broken by a game and a team. I love that so many generations of people have been passed on their love of a team or a sport from some part of their family, and I love that being a fan of a team can bring you together with random strangers, even just for three hours, and make you feel like you are part of something greater than yourself. I remember reading a wonderful internet thread on a message board just days before the Boston Red Sox won their first World Series in eighty-six years. It was called “Win it for…” and it was made up of stories from people all over the world and how they had come to love the Red Sox. The stories ranged from people wishing the team would win for their elderly father, who had taught them baseball in the backyard and taken them to Fenway Park as a child, or for a brother off at war who was still following the Sox from the other side of the world. It was special to hear so many stories about how family members had been brought together by what some people consider a meaningless game. You can see the evidence all over, such as when New York rallied around the Yankees and Mets after September 11th, or even today as the city of New Orleans rallies around their beloved Saints as they continue to rebuild from Hurricane Katrina. Sports, despite all its flaws can give us hope.

My Grandma died in the summer of 1999. Ohio State won in the last game she was alive. Since then, the Buckeyes have won eight of the last ten meetings, and still every year I think of that reminder call that I never needed. So Grandma, thanks for the best gift you could have ever given me, something that makes me feel so alive. I’ll remember to get you your quarters.