Making A Statement
I went to the BYU football game this weekend.
You may not understand what a big deal that is. See, I was a USC student who did all his laundry in the dorms during the football games because there was nobody else around. I decided early on in my academic career that I would avoid football games at all costs, because I was Making A Statement.
I wish I could remember what that Statement was.
I used to make a lot of Statements. I used to take a lot of stands. Like the time I refused my nomination as Vice Versa King for the girl’s choice Vice Versa dance during my senior year in high school. The problem was they had already printed the ballots when I Made My Statement. I was the Senior Class President, so my job included distributing the ballots in individual classrooms – ballots that had my name crossed off in see-through ink.
So naturally, everyone wanted to know why my name was scratched off the ballot. I told them I was Making A Statement. (I think, on that occasion, the real Statement was that no girl had asked me to the Vice Versa Dance.)
As Senior Class President, it was also my job to crown the Homecoming Queen. The problem was that I didn’t have a date to the Homecoming Dance. I think I was Making A Statement then, too – I maintained that school dances were for more bourgeoisie folk, and they symbolized some kind of oppression or something. I can’t really remember. I do remember, however, feeling too socially awkward to actually ask a pretty girl to go out with me.
That’s a Statement, all right, but not the one I intended to make.
That was one of the worst nights of my life. I showed up to the dance in a suit and did the honors, crowning our lovely Homecoming Queen with all the requisite pomp and circumstance, and then I ducked out the back door and made a break for it. Some friends of mine told me they had come outside to say hello to me, and they saw me in the distance as I ran toward my car and then pealed out of sight.
I tried to strike a blow against bourgeoisie oppression, but sometimes screeching tires make our Statements for us.
So, anyway, back to the BYU thing. My Statement to avoid college athletics has lasted my entire lifetime, and I’m now 40 years old. This was, in fact, the first college football game I had ever attended. How sad is that? Pretty sad. Not as sad as UCLA’s performance in that game, though – they lost 59 to zip.
That’s a Statement nobody should ever be forced to make.
You may not understand what a big deal that is. See, I was a USC student who did all his laundry in the dorms during the football games because there was nobody else around. I decided early on in my academic career that I would avoid football games at all costs, because I was Making A Statement.
I wish I could remember what that Statement was.
I used to make a lot of Statements. I used to take a lot of stands. Like the time I refused my nomination as Vice Versa King for the girl’s choice Vice Versa dance during my senior year in high school. The problem was they had already printed the ballots when I Made My Statement. I was the Senior Class President, so my job included distributing the ballots in individual classrooms – ballots that had my name crossed off in see-through ink.
So naturally, everyone wanted to know why my name was scratched off the ballot. I told them I was Making A Statement. (I think, on that occasion, the real Statement was that no girl had asked me to the Vice Versa Dance.)
As Senior Class President, it was also my job to crown the Homecoming Queen. The problem was that I didn’t have a date to the Homecoming Dance. I think I was Making A Statement then, too – I maintained that school dances were for more bourgeoisie folk, and they symbolized some kind of oppression or something. I can’t really remember. I do remember, however, feeling too socially awkward to actually ask a pretty girl to go out with me.
That’s a Statement, all right, but not the one I intended to make.
That was one of the worst nights of my life. I showed up to the dance in a suit and did the honors, crowning our lovely Homecoming Queen with all the requisite pomp and circumstance, and then I ducked out the back door and made a break for it. Some friends of mine told me they had come outside to say hello to me, and they saw me in the distance as I ran toward my car and then pealed out of sight.
I tried to strike a blow against bourgeoisie oppression, but sometimes screeching tires make our Statements for us.
So, anyway, back to the BYU thing. My Statement to avoid college athletics has lasted my entire lifetime, and I’m now 40 years old. This was, in fact, the first college football game I had ever attended. How sad is that? Pretty sad. Not as sad as UCLA’s performance in that game, though – they lost 59 to zip.
That’s a Statement nobody should ever be forced to make.
posted by Elder Samuel Bennett | 2:39 PM
12 Comments:
So when did you finally realize that you actually had to ask girls on dates to ever get a date?
I figured that out right after high school. My social life got a whole lot more exciting as aging, single Mormon women got more desperate.
Stallion's 2 sons, whom he took with him to the BYU game, would never believe that he's never seen a college football game. They for some reason assume he played football for BYU (never mind that he didn't do his undergrad there) so of course he had to watch the games. We've both tried to gently tell them that, no, Dad really isn't the football type. And they've come to accept that. Now they ask what position he played on the BYU men's soccer team.
American football is gay.
Dignity and an empty sack is worth the sack.
Lest we paint an incorrect picture, rest assured that Stallion was a tremendous athlete in his day. Never have I seen such great technique for stealing bases in Little League. He would flail up the basepath from first to second, verbally taunting the pitcher as he danced to some unheard music in his head, while the rest of his team cackled and laughed their heads off. I'm pretty sure more than one opposing coach complained to the umpire.
This was not Stallion's only brush with athletic excellence, however. He was the announcer for High School home basketball games his senior year, and delighted the crowd and annoyed the opposition with his insightful comments on the physique and skill level of all players. It was more "athletic commentary" than play-by-play, and probably would not be permitted in our Politically Correct world now.
Sounds like Stallion may have had some ADHD issues.
Or at least be classisfied as a "Spaz".
hatrack.com/osc/reviews/everything/2007-7-29.shtml
Stallion, you are in good company. Orson articulates well why people like us cannot -- try as we might -- get excited about sports.
Kudos to you for burying your hatchet for football and submitting to the higher cause of raising boys.
But ... I don't know how you're going to counter the BYU men's soccer team thing. It's moments like that I say, "Good luck. Not my problem. I'm raising a daughter."
Stallion, tell your boys that soccer is for girls. It causes weakness in the loins.
You didn't answer the real question: Now that you're no longer "making a statement," will you go to more games? Did your kids have fun? Did you have fun? I was at that game as well -- it was amazing! Do you agree?
I believe Stallion is making a statement with his non-answer.
hatrack.com/osc/reviews/everything/2007-07-29.shtml
Forgive the typo in this address in the earlier comment.
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