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So what makes for a good rivalry? Desire for bragging rights? Sure.
Physical proximity of the opposing teams? Typically. General eveness of
the competition over the course of its history? Not always. Marked
differences in demographics between the competitors ("uptown" versus
"downtown")? This can also be present. Probably all of these give cause
to the start and sustainment of rivalries at any level within sports.
Rivalries come in all flavors and sizes. Some good, some not so. In
Florida recently officials rescheduled a game from a night kickoff to
daytime due to the threat of gang violence. The
year before one boy was shot to death and another was shot in the hand
in incidents related to the game. While violence in connection with
sports rivalries can get out of hand, and sometimes does, fortunately
most rivalry contests go off without incident. We seem to enjoy rivalries for the passions they bring to the
surface---typically all our senses get exercised during the contest
whether participant or spectator. We shout, scream, cheer, jump up and
down, hug one another, proffer high fives all around---without end. It
seems to do us good to get excited from time to time about
something---sort of clears our emotional cobwebs via a borderline
cathartic experience. It's like the line from the old ABC TV show, Wide
World of Sports: "the thrill of victory, the agony of defeat--the human
drama of athletic competition." I think the late Roone Arledge, the
show's producer, had it right. The drama of people engaged in competion
is exciting for it is a human drama, perhaps even primeval at its
roots---that propels rivalries. It's us versus them; supposed Good Guys
against the Forces of Darkness (the other team), and so on.
Most of the rivalries we see in prep sports across America are played
out at the local level, largely reported only within the confines of
state or county lines. And usually the teams involved represent what I
would term defined communities, quite often small towns.
As a 9 year old I recall riding in the car with my parents in the
fall on our way to Oklahoma City to see relatives. Our route took us
under a railway overpass. On the right side of its concrete abutment
where you couldn't fail to notice, someone had painted in large black
letters: MAUD-7 KONAWA-0. And while you have probably never heard of
either, to us and our neighbors that score meant a lot. It still meant a
lot when I got to take my turn against Maud as a 15 year old, scoring
two touchdowns for Konawa. Yet again, Maud won the game. Many (really
many) years later I returned to Konawa to settle up the estate of my
late aunt. Stopping by the local Sonic for a coke, I noticed the father
of one of my former high school friends in a nearby car (he had to be
approaching 90 by then). Surprised that he was even still living, I went
over, re-introduced myself and said hello. Barely a minute has passed
before he recalled that game against Maud so many years before and the
kickoff I'd run back for a score.
It's like that with rivalries . . . they're never fogotten.
Friday, 18 December 2009 09:42
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