El Mundo Sports

At the end of each summer, there’s an excitement in this country because a bunch of young men get together and play a game. Austin is covered in burnt orange and cowboy boots are as prevalent on saturdays there as wakeboarding on Lake Travis on a summer afternoon. In Baton Rouge, pigs are roasted and alligator is grilled in the parking lots of Tiger Stadium. The blue turf in Boise is as colorful as Oregon’s Nike backed jerseys. From the big guns such as USC and Alabama to the Ivy league rivalries like Yale/Harvard, the country comes alive and just seems to have more feeling to it. What is this phenomenon? Why do we care? After all, it’s just a game.

Or is it?

I compare college football in the United States with soccer in the rest of the world. It simply takes over. I have seen soccer’s importance in other country’s and how everything stops when the players step out on the pitch. College Football here is no different. There’s a feeling of importance that’s hard to grasp unless you experience it first hand. It’s a time to go away to another world outside of your daily life. It’s an opportunity to sit back with a cold one and not worry about the work you left undone last week or difficulties you may have in life. For a few hours, a bunch of young men help to cure a problem that many people can’t fix on their own. There’s no therapist needed. No sit-down with a boss or talk with the family. Just a TV and the care of those around us to enjoy a moment inherently important to us.

There’s a word that comes to mind as I wait for the opening kickoff this saturday morning. That word is: Perspective. I’m as guilty as the next person in feeling that ping in my chest when I wonder if I’m living life to the fullest. Am I doing what I want? Am I getting what I want out of every day. Do I live my life to the fullest?

Recently, those around me have been living with a varied degree of daily struggles. This chapter in life has been difficult for many in my inner circle. After a certain tough stretch, one friend even said, “when will it ever end.” That’s when I come back my word for the day. Having perspective helps us come full circle and enables us to realize we can enjoy something as simple as a silly game. It gives us hope. Football or soccer or any other sport really isn’t as important as some of the daily dealings in life. It’s not on the same level as the difficulties of taking care of a child or balancing the work/love relationship. It’s not as important as being there for a sick relative. It doesn’t compare to bringing a smile to someone’s face by ensuring they know you care for them.

But college football is a medium to allow it all to happen. We can be expressive in our care for it. We can feel emotion while watching it. We can sit in our house with our loved ones and see them laugh, if even for a short while. It brings a smile to the face of those who have trouble doing it on their own. For that, I appreciate it more than I ever thought possible. People often as ask me why I love sports writing. I always say that it’s not the sport. It’s not even the writing. It’s more the realization that sports really allow a few minutes of reprieve when it’s needed most. And even though it is really just a game, it provides something so elementary, yet so important in life that can be very difficult to feel in today’s time.

It provides happiness.

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I have seen many American Football games in my life. Many professional and many college. The thing I like about college football is what brings most collegiate sports fans to the games hours (and sometimes days) early to tailgate with their families and friends. There’s a passion for the game that is obvious to the athletes who run out onto the field. They don’t do it for a paycheck because they don’t get one. It’s truly about the love of the game, the excitement of the crowd, and the possibility of winning a championship.

That’s exactly what has been missing from the professional game for so long. I remember as a kid growing up in Louisiana, and being a Saints (otherwise known as the Aints during their not so glory years) fan, and not understanding why players seemed so lethargic on the field as if they were machines. With free agency, ever growing contracts, players seeking more money, and the lack of loyalty, I have felt frustrated over the years with the professional game and lack of true passion in it.

Any professional athlete would argue with me and say something like, “We play for the love of the game, not the money.” I would respond with, “Really? Then why all of the hold-outs for more money? Why are players upset at only making $5 million a year instead of $7 million?” Most of us won’t ever make that much in our lifetime. I don’t have a problem with players making a lot of money, just that they get upset and don’t play out their contracts because they want more. They signed the deal, so they should see it through. I can see going to a professional employer and saying, “You have to double my $50,000 a year salary, or I’m not coming to work!” I guarantee you I wouldn’t have a job the next day. Or better yet, if the employer did double it, coming to work and saying, “I do this job for the love it, not the money?” I think you get the picture.

Too often have players been drafted (and signed to ridiculous contracts) and never lived up to the hype or even been a good professional on or off of the field. It makes the rest of us who fight for a measly $50,000 a year salary want to vomit. I know I seem bitter, but with the declining economy and pitiful industries, it makes me upset to see professional athletes making so much money and not giving their all.

That’s when the unthinkable happened.

It started with a baseball bat. Reggie Bush ran out onto the Superdome turf with a baseball bat in his hand as if he was to be a slugger for the first time in his overhyped career. I have been a supporter of his since he joined the Saints, and honestly think he can’t possibly live up to the hype everyone has put on him. With that being said, he should step up and act like the slugger he’s supposed to be. Don’t run soft. Don’t dance too much. Take the ball, do his thing, and score touchdowns. That’s exactly what he did against the Arizona Cardinals in this weekend’s playoff game.

His first run told the story of how his day would go. Bush ran to the right, and as he was pushed out of bounds by the defender, he pushed back. It was actually more like Bush ran the guy over. The defender was knocked to the ground, and the Saints players went nuts. A little while later, Bush was about to be stopped in the backfield by the onrushing defense, but he put on the brakes and changed direction. He ended up with a gain of 11 yards and a first down. What was I watching? Was Reggie Bush about to take over this game? Was he living up to the hype that everyone was placing on him? He was running hard and with reckless abandonment.

Bush’s teammates were noticing it too, as he was constantly encouraged every time he made a big play. I was still skeptical, although a bit more optimistic, until he pulled off one of the most incredible runs I have seen since his glory days at USC. With just a few minutes left in the 1st quarter, and only up 14-7, Reggie took a hand-off from quarterback Drew Brees to the left. He ran into a defender, bounced off, and went back right, seemingly into the arms of another defender. Bush then applied the brakes as the defender flew right by him in what seemed to be a Hollywood moment. A few seconds later, he swung for the fences and was dancing in the end zone.

Was this happening? Was I witnessing the renewal of a man hyped as the savior of a franchise buried beneath the rubble of a hurricane and left for dead? It seemed as if we were all witnessing a true Goliath coming of age right before us. Reggie Bush ran with heart. He ran with no fear. He ran as if his life depended on it. It was an awesome moment for sports fans and working men and women feeling the brunt of a failing economy and needing hope. If even for a second to be able to feel someone is earning his stripes and truly cares was worth years of discourse as a Saints fan.

He wasn’t done. With the Saints pulling away late in the 3rd quarter, Reggie put the nail in the coffin of the Cardinals season. In a true Mel Gibson moment, he caught a punt and began to run right through the Cardinals players, seemingly yelling “Freeeeedooooooom” as the end zone moved under his feet.

Reggie Bush ran out of his own shadow that day in the Superdome. If he keeps playing like a man possessed, and the Saints win the Superbowl, my bitter view of professional athletes may be altered a little.

Even if he makes more money this year than I ever will.

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