Confessions from the sports fan in all of us

The first article I ever wrote for The Vista was a story on the draft prospects of Josh Johnson. This was long before I had traded in Muscle Milks for mochas, 5 a.m. wake-up calls for 5 a.m. writing binges. Back in the days of chicken mole and couscous at the Caf; when cranes and orange hard hats peppered the valley rushing to finish a new colossal dormitory; when everybody carried plastic water bottles and Twitter was reserved for oddballs and loners. Today I am writing this in the SLP and I live in San Buenaventura. I drink from my Sovereign Earth aluminum water bottle and I tweet my interesting thoughts.
Serendipitously, my final story for The Vista covered the football team and mentioned Gabe Derricks signing with the Atlanta Falcons. Full circle. On my first official day at USD, the first day of football fall camp 2007, former defensive back coach Ed Lamb told me about a young cornerback at the time, "Always watch Gabe Derricks, study what he does. He's a special football player." Prophetic.
The beauty of sport, the reason it is such a fantastic subject for writing, is its tangible nature. Stats, winners, accolades to shape and solidify our perceptions. Clear evidence to support theories. I can tell you why I think the Arizona immigration bill is wrong, but I can prove to you why Tim Lincecum is the best pitcher in baseball. In sports, growth and progression are overt.
Two years ago De'Jon Jackson shot 70 percent from the free throw line. This past season he shot 87 percent. Tangible progression. For us civilians, though, personal growth remains an ambiguous and subjective attribute. Like food preferences. Consensus and personal deliberation are the primary, and unreliable, markers.
The great Frank Deford was once told by his editor at Sports Illustrated, "It's not what you write about, it's how you write it." Within the seemingly enclosed universe of sport exists important links to the social and political world. Powerful microcosms illuminated. Sport comprises more than games and competition. Sport absorbs the nuances of human emotion and social interaction, economic stratification and cultural pride. When we cheer for our favorite teams, our favorite players, we are supporting specific characteristics, specific values. We support resilience or humility or flash or greatness.
Consequently sport serves as the battleground on which our most underlying conflicts are staged. And, for better or worse, it generates clear victors and losers. So we cry and we slam wooden chairs into dorm room walls; we jump and we scream out second story windows. A team fails and an entire paradigm fails. Of course these precise determinations only satiate the need for concrete conclusions. For in the world outside the sporting universe, answers often hover beyond the reaches of even our most powerful cognitions.
But in sport, Gabe Derricks is hard work and charisma. De'Jon Jackson is toughness and teamwork. Ken Rancifer is youth and hope. JT Rogan is leadership and dignity. Josh Johnson is the American Dream. As we follow the athletes of our chosen teams, these connections emerge and eventually become ubiquitous. Manifestations of our deeply seeded loves and hates. And we grip them tightly to our hearts, as if they exude the fuel for our own being.
Life is either a game or a circus. I'm not sure which yet. Part of me hopes it's a game, with palpable goals and measureable accomplishments to satiate my hunger for positive affirmation. But another part of me hopes it's a circus - absurd and whimsical, a show without a definitive plot, just a composition of arbitrary acts. A madhouse of wide-eyed junkies desperate for recognition. Then suddenly you look up and its over. Mabuhay.