Today was an unusually gray day in DC and it rained the spittle type of precipitation that I know well from my hometown. Normally, as with a lot of things in our nation’s capital, rains are big and loud and in your face, but just for a few minutes, thunderstorms, but then the clouds part and it’s mostly sunny again. But today felt fitting and I embraced the weather, for it was college football game day yet again and I loved the drizzle that drove me inside to await the Duck game.
Watching these games makes me feel closer to my family-- all three of my immediate family members are U of O Alumni-- and my favorite friends and relatives are either at the game or watching. It helps when your own University didn’t even have a football program, but if it had, I will forever feel connected to Autzen Stadium, the place I grew up watching my high school football team play Friday nights, the Ducks on Saturdays and more than once my own sports teams raised money for our athletic programs by picking up the trash in the bleachers and entire field in the aftermath of several Grateful Dead concerts (for the record, that’s not a pleasant job even with gloves on).
But, really, I just want to be part of the action in Eugene, even after, or perhaps especially after the horrible start to the season that has come to be known as “Punch Gate.” The Oregon athletic program, and head coach Chip Kelly in particular, were praised for the way they handled the incident in which star running back LeGarrett Blount went nuts after their first game in a hostile Boise State stadium that resulted in a loss for the Ducks and a season-long suspension for Blount.
They say a test of character is how a person acts in the midst of adversity, or perhaps an entire team reacts to setbacks. I was amazed to learn this week of yet another reason I’ve come to really admire and respect Coach Kelly. Here are the simple facts: Oregon Alumni (1996) and season ticket holder Tony Seminary was so disappointed about the Duck’s performance he witnessed at Boise State, even before Blount’s punch was thrown, that when he got back to his Portland office, he decided to email Coach Kelly an invoice for his personal expenses for making what he considered to be a worthless trip. Here are the contents of that email:
"I was so angry with the game (even before the post-game melee) I am sending you an invoice for my trip to Boise. The product on the field Thursday night is not something I was at all proud of, and I feel as though I’m entitled to my money back for the trip. Please see my invoice attached in this email. I will happily send along receipts if need be."
But what of sports poetry and how do the two even relate today? When I asked myself to name my top five favorite sports poems, I’m sad to say I had a terribly difficult time. I can name a few songs that rank up there, but I wanted true piece of poetry about sports, and then remembered a quote, perhaps one of the most uttered mantras of modern day organized sports for kids—‘it’s not who won or lost the game, but how you played it’. That’s the sort of thing that anyone who has played sports nods their head in agreement for team spirit but really feels, deep down, that the game IS about the win or loss at the time.
Grantland Rice lived in another century, but he is the man responsible for writing that one line still used to console little leaguers across all sports and generations-- “not that you won or lost - but how you played the Game.” Given the truly unsportsmanlike conduct of parents of kids who play sports, kids and young athletes themselves, even the highest profile professional athletes, and yes, our very own public officials, it feels like everyone would do well to read the full length of the poem from whence the quote came. Put into context I have a newfound respect for this piece of writing and I like the whole of it much more than its one famous line.
Given the actions of Chip Kelly and the words of Rice, it's possible to see how sports really do serve as a metaphor for life: It is your actions and how you choose to live it that truly count.
Alumnus Football
By Grantland Rice
Bill Jones had been the shining star upon his college team.
His tackling was ferocious and his bucking was a dream.
When husky William took the ball beneath his brawny arm
They had two extra men to ring the ambulance alarm.
Bill hit the line and ran the ends like some mad bull amuck.
The other team would shiver when they saw him start to buck.
And when some rival tackler tried to block his dashing pace,
On waking up, he'd ask, "Who drove that truck across my face?"
Bill had the speed-Bill had the weight-Bill never bucked in vain;
From goal to goal he whizzed along while fragments, strewed the plain,
And there had been a standing bet, which no one tried to call,
That he could make his distance through a ten-foot granite wall.
When he wound up his college course each student's heart was sore.
They wept to think bull-throated Bill would sock the line no more.
Not so with William - in his dreams he saw the Field of Fame,
Where he would buck to glory in the swirl of Life's big game.
Sweet are the dreams of college life, before our faith is nicked-
The world is but a cherry tree that's waiting to be picked;
The world is but an open road-until we find, one day,
How far away the goal posts are that called us to the play.
So, with the sheepskin tucked beneath his arm in football style,
Bill put on steam and dashed into the thickest of the pile;
With eyes ablaze he sprinted where the laureled highway led-
When Bill woke up his scalp hung loose and knots adorned his head.
He tried to run the ends of life, but with rib-crushing toss
A rent collector tackled him and threw him for a loss.
And when he switched his course again and dashed into the line
The massive Guard named Failure did a toddle on his spine.
Bill tried to punt out of the rut, but ere he turned the trick
Right Tackle Competition scuttled through and blocked the kick.
And when he tackled at Success in one long, vicious prod
The Fullback Disappointment steered his features in sod.
Bill was no quitter, so he tried a buck in higher gear,
But Left Guard Envy broke it up and stood him on his ear.
Whereat he aimed a forward pass, but in two vicious bounds
Big Center Greed slipped through a hole and rammed him out of bounds.
But one day, when across the Field of Fame the goal seemed dim,
The wise old coach, Experience, came up and spoke to him.
"Oh Boy," he said, "the main point now before you win your bout
Is keep on bucking Failure till you've worn the piker out!"
"And, kid, cut out this fancy stuff - go in there, low and hard;
Just keep your eye upon the ball and plug on, yard by yard,
And more than all, when you are thrown or tumbled with a crack,
Don't sit there whining-hustle up and keep on coming back;
"Keep coming back with all you've got, without an alibi,
If Competition trips you up or lands upon your eye,
Until at last above the din you hear this sentence spilled:
'We might as well let this bird through before we all get killed.'
"You'll find the road is long and rough, with soft spots far apart,
Where only those can make the grade who have the Uphill Heart.
And when they stop you with a thud or halt you with a crack,
Let Courage call the signals as you keep on coming back.
"Keep coming back, and though the world may romp across your spine,
Let every game's end find you still upon the battling line;
For when the One Great Scorer comes to mark against your name,
He writes - not that you won or lost - but how you played the Game."
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