When I was growing up, I was often ambivalent about sports. By the time I was a student at the University of Alabama, I was borderline-hostile about the sports that were so important to my fellow students and many of the people around me.
I was in Tuscaloosa to learn, not to waste my time with something so brain-dead. That was what I told myself. I thought I was too good — too academically pure or some such — to care about a bunch of athletes pushing themselves around in the grass.
It wasn’t until about 10 years after I left college that I started to care about football and basketball. But let’s reword that. I didn’t suddenly discover that I loved these games or the intricacies of how they were played.
I discovered that I loved my university. Quite unexpectedly, I found that keeping up with these “childish games” gave me something I craved.
It wasn’t about football. It was a sense that I was a part of something much larger than myself.
When I watched the Alabama Crimson Tide — on the field or on the court — I realized that I wasn’t just rooting for athletes. I was experiencing pride.
This was my university. This was part of who I was.
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