The first was I nearly watched a college basketball game. I can't tell you the last time I actually sat down to watch a college basketball game -- it may have been when Michigan's fab four lost to UNC in the NCAA men's final in 1993 (the one where Chris Webber called a time out he didn't have).
The second was that I was prepared to root for UVA. [Continues on in my best Jerry Seinfeld Voice] UVA! Me! A Virginia Tech graduate! Rooting for UVA! I even wore the new Virginia Tech T-shirt I got for Christmas today (though it's been so cold it's been concealed under a fleece all day). I can't root for UVA! It's UVA!
I don't know why. I do value excellence, the unbeaten run is (or, rather, was) impressive, and it has been covered in the local news with a laconic sort of excitement, and while it wasn't infections maybe it was just nice to think about something sports wise besides Tom Brady's deflated balls or Chelsea's uninspiring draw today against Manchester City.
Furthermore, it seemed safe. Virginia Tech and UVA are so far apart this year in the ACC Standings, it just didn't seem like I'd be harming anything if I rooted for UVA this one time. And I don't really care much about Duke either way. What harm could it do?
Well, take heart Hokie fans. It turns out I did neither.
I was only able to watch the first few minutes of the game. Soon it was 8:00 and my wife starting watching Torchwood on Netflix, desperately trying to finish the series before it gets dropped tomorrow at 12AM. Sure, she could watch it on her computer, but she prefers to watch it on TV (which, unlike everybody else in this country, we only have one of). So I played the martyr and sacrificed myself in the name of domestic tranquility, because Torchwood is important to my wife and college basketball isn't really that important me.
That's what marriage is all about. I know, I read it on the back of a matchbox.
I did, however, see the pregame festivities. After the Duke players were introduced in a rather leisurly fashion the arena went dark and the music started playing, and out on the middle of the floor there was this fucking guy in a Cavalier's costume strutting around like Brian Johnson of ACDC.
Now, I feel that Lord Grantham and I, were he to invite me to dinner at Downton Abbey, would probably not agree on many things. But one thing we would agree on, I am sure, is that pre-game pomp is unnecessary. The two teams should come out of the tunnel, shake hands, have the coin toss, and get on with the game.
The only pregame ritual worth seeing is when the Hokies come into Lane Stadium, and they start playing "Enter Sandman", and everybody starts jumping up and down in unison, and the sophomore engineering students are trying to get everyone to stop because they just learned about resonance in physics class and are worried that the motion of the students could result in a Tacoma Narrows Bridge event - in other words, an engineering disaster of incredible proportions.
But this little Diego Montoya, dancing to some kind of jams being pumped out to get the UVA fans up for a game they couldn't possibly be more up for? Stupid.
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| Nice Goatee |
So, long story short, the pregame ritual reset my spiritual compass and I found myself hating UVA once again with a cool passion. Not the school or the people who go there (I actually have some good friends from high school who went there), but just the basketball team. I wanted to see Duke put them to the sword. And while I didn't actually see it (Torchwood marathon, remember?) and while Duke didn't exactly put them to the sword they at least punctured the hopes of hoos everywhere that their beloved basketball team would run the table.
And so, I am happy. Not the good kind of happy, it's the happy that you need to go and tell your therapist about, because it is no good to be hateful and to take joy in other's misfortunes. But happy is happy, and I will take what I can get.
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