For most of us there will never be hordes of girls crawling at our feet or companies throwing new shoes & shirts in our faces. Most of us will never be asked for an interview or get our name on a locker. Ultimately, most of us will never feel the roar of the crowd on the most grand of stages.
This is the reality of your everyday sports fan. We sit in our cubes (offices for some) and wonder about this god-like lifestyle.
While visiting home this past weekend an old buddy told me about his internship with a sports agency. Among his duties were to tag along with super athletes as they hit up the doctors office just to make sure everything goes ok (and by go ok I mean make sure the athlete wakes up, makes his flight, and actually goes to visit the doctor). So I sit listening to this story and within 5 mins, it’s confirmed that these guys are really above the law. Girls galore, preferential treatment, and simply a desire for the best can basically sum up my buddies time with these super athletes.
Then (I can’t explain this one) I thought of Uncle Rico…yes Uncle Rico from Napoleon Dynamite. You know who I am talking about..1982 Uncle Rico. Soakin it up in the hot tub with my soulmate Uncle Rico. While most of us played sports on some level in our lives, we realized this wasn’t going to be our profession. Well, Uncle Rico..yeah he wouldn’t let that dream slip away.
If only it was '82 again and coach would have put me in the 4th quarter….
Then I got to thinking..well you know Uncle Rico never let go of that dream. He practiced outside his van (which doubled as his home) and taped himself throwing the football more awkwardly than Bernie Kosar. He never threw away the child in him, yet Uncle Rico was also a pathetic loser.
Then I began to wonder if I have a moment in my athletic career I wish I could go back to..not Uncle Rico go back, but just a moment I could always look back on and on some days wish was my 1982.
Well, after going home and seeing a trophy in my closet, the answer became obvious.
Let me set the stage here:
I am 10 years old, sporting thick glasses and sweatpants playing in a basketball league with a large majority of my friends not only then but still to this day. Yes, I know we are 10-12 years old, but I kid you not we still talk about this every now and then (not to mention this past weekend while I was home). It was at a time when competition really started to kick in. When little Jimmy whose dad always made him play would now start to get benched. Don’t get me wrong – we couldn’t run plays or anything, but passing was now commonplace. No more rebound on one end, dribble down the court with your head down, then a freak lay-up at the other end. This time we had colored shirts with our own numbers on the back. We weren’t just playing in the backyard with the dog running around, this time we had an audience (and by audience I mean all our parents). It was a great time for a young athlete not too mention a young sports fan.
So you might be wondering (ok, you probably don’t care) why am I talking about this and where did that trophy come from. Well, most of the reason this league was so special is that my team brought home the 1990 championship trophy as the yellow team beat up on the heavily favored red team. Not only did this bring fame and fortune to my whole family, but bragging rights to all my buddies till the start of 4th grade, which was super schweeeet. Ahhh…1990...
So maybe Uncle Rico wasn’t so crazy after all. Ok nevermind..he is a loser but, I feel I can sympathize with his desire to not let go of a great time in one’s athletic career.
One final note here: I want to mention something that very well could be the funniest thing I have ever been a part of. So in 1990, most of us ended up getting first or second place, thus bringing home a trophy. So one kid was left out and didn’t bring home anything to mom. Well, since Mom couldn’t see her baby upset that all his friends had some hardware to put on the mantle but him, Mom did only what a Mother could do. She headed over to the local sporting goods store, purchased a generic trophy, and had it engraved ‘1990 MVP’ Yes..think about that one. You not only lost to all your friends, but now you have to display this fake trophy in your room (to appease Mother) while all your friends laugh at you for doing so. To this day, we still refer to him as the 1990 MVP and the trophy has even been given to others as good luck. Even if LeBron wins MVP, he won’t be the first LeAkronite to bring home this crown.
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Little story... Sophomore yr. in HS, night before the annual county track meet (biggest race of the year), I drank a bottle of SoCo. Next morning while warming up on the track, my toughest competitor, #1 sophomore miler from Princeton (yours truly was ranked # 2), told me I wasn't looking good. I told him I'd be sleeping off my hangover and to wake me when he's ready to lose his ranking. We both laughed.
Well, I finished the mile race in 4:45 sec. Not bad for a kid who polished off a bottle of booze 7 hours before the race. But I finished 1 sec. behind Princeton boy. He told me the smell of the alcohol pushed him harder than ever.
That day, I realized I had some serious talent but it just wasn't my passion. My Junior and Senior years I went on to run an avg 4:30 sec. mile and eventually was offered a scholarship to Mount St. Mary's. I turned it down. I hated Track & Field.
But I sure brag about the time I nearly won the County meet boozed up on SoCo!
I coulda been a contenda!
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