Cheering Against Success

As an avid Chicago Bulls fan, it was difficult to see them exit the NBA playoffs after the first round, yet even tougher to witness two of the franchises’ cornerstones, all-star point guard Derrick Rose and center Joakim Noah, have to miss the majority of the series with injuries. As is well known in the realm of sports, Noah suffered a high ankle sprain in game three and, sadly, Rose went down in the waning seconds of game one with a torn anterior cruciate ligament.

As disheartening as these injuries were, I’m still a crazed sports fan at heart, and have begun rooting for a different team in these 2012 playoffs. Though this team is quite popular, they were a putrid 20-46 in the regular season and lost in the first round of this year’s playoffs. How does a team with a .303 winning percentage make the playoffs, and for that matter, is still competing for the Larry O’Brien Trophy after succumbing to a first round defeat? Well, it’s because I’m not cheering for an actual team. Rather, I’m hoping, praying, even trying to will the Miami Heat to futility.

Rooting against Lebron and co. has become more of a job than actual enjoyment, something I force upon myself so as not to misplace my animosity towards them. I can say with confidence that I am not the only person who watches Heat games just to cheer for the other team, and it happens more often than not in sports. Do Red Sox fans sit idle during a Yankees meltdown? Do Redskins fans sympathize with Tony Romo after yet another late-game collapse? Absolutely not!

Sports elicit strong emotions amongst amateur and professional athletes, as well as fans, which often identify themselves through their favorite teams. That’s why when Lebron James opted to sign with the Miami Heat instead of returning to Cleveland to play for his hometown Cavaliers, both cities’ fan bases experienced the most extreme sides of the sports spectrum: Fans in Miami held a showcase for its trio of superstars, where James and his new teammates, Dwayne Wade and Chris Bosh, danced in their work attire, albeit conceding the idea that they would be the villains of the NBA. Cleveland, opposite of Miami’s ecstasy, was a little angry that its favorite son left, and proceeded to burn number twenty-three jerseys in the heart of town.

Though it was the state of Ohio that was wronged by Lebron, when he announced live, via ESPN, that he would be ‘taking his talents to South Beach,’ I couldn’t help but also feel betrayed. By no means am I a fan of any Cleveland sports team (a fate that should never be wished upon any man, I might add), but to an outsider, James’ decision voiced growing concerns over the lack of principal in professional sports. Here’s what can be deduced by analyzing James’ choice: There is no such thing as loyalty in professional sports anymore. James thwarted all of the relationships he built during his tenure in Cleveland, choosing to leave for Miami for a greater chance of accomplishing his only goal left of his young NBA career: To win a championship. No one can fault someone for trying to win a championship, although the Cavaliers made it to the NBA finals in 2007 (losing in four games to the San Antonio Spurs) and consistently contended in the Eastern Conference title chase. James’ decision also shed some light onto how much power players possess in the free agent process. The entire time he, Wade and Bosh were being courted by prospective teams, they were talking amongst themselves, looking for a way so that all three could play together. They took the ball out of the front offices’ hands. The Miami Heat didn’t choose them; they chose the Heat. And lastly, the decision of the three all-stars promoted a system of ‘buddy ball,’ where players want to sign with teams that their friends are on, decreasing the level of competition and rendering the league to pick up games.

These things make me despise the Heat, as their antics could possibly corrupt the NBA and other leagues. Luckily, it doesn’t appear that the NBA is nearing its death, but it doesn’t make rooting against the Heat any harder. They still have the best player and MVP of the league in James, and Wade, who serves as James’ sidekick, is a top five player in the league, and arguably the best at his position. The Heat flop, they cry to the referees, they bully other teams (a la Wade’s blatant and unnecessary shove of an unsuspecting Darren Collison), and most discouraging is that they play for an awful fan base in Miami, where the stands don’t fill entirely until the first quarter ends.

The Indiana Pacers are the three seed in the Eastern Conference, playing the two seeded Heat in the second round of the playoffs. After two games, the series is tied at one game apiece, after the Pacers inched out a victory in Miami to pull even with the Heat. The Heat are clearly more talented than the Pacers, and seem to get more calls their way than do the Pacers, as the Heat boast two of the games’ best players and the Pacers don’t. Yet after watching the Pacers defeat the Heat in game two, I’ve come to believe that the Pacers can actually beat the Heat in a seven-game series. Maybe it’s just my blind hope, or my ‘dislike’ of the Heat, but Indiana fans can take solace in the fact that they’ll have at least one extra fan cheering for their Pacers tonight.

On the Eve of Title IX’s 40th Anniversary, the Women’s Little 500 Race Has Come a Long Way

This year marks both the silver anniversary of the first women’s Little 500 race as well as the 40^th anniversary of Title IX. Although the act was passed in 1972, which put federal power behind the notion that women should receive athletic opportunities equal to men, it took the IU Student Foundation until 1988 to announce plans for a Little 500 bicycle race for women. After years of being delegated to the Mini 500 tricycle race, IU women finally had a race of their own.

“It was terrifying,” said Anne Grotefeld, 43, who as a sophomore rode in the first women’s Little 500 race for her sorority, Alpha Gamma Delta. “We were afraid we would fail.”

Alpha Gamma Delta was one of 31 teams that participated in the inaugural women’s Little 500 race. Though it was a better-than-expected turnout, the first race didn’t come without its bumps and bruises.

“It was difficult to organize back then,” Grotefeld said. “I got a group of us, three other girls and myself, to start a team. Two of the girls had never played a sport before. It was both exciting and terrifying at the same time, because if anything happened to one of us, we were done.”

Title IX came into fruition in the summer of 1972, helping to bridge the gap between men’s and women’s athletics. Though the act does not specifically mention sports or athletics, it does contend that no person, on the basis of sex, be excluded from involvement in any program or activity that receives Federal financial assistance. Therefore, Title IX sparked the growth of equality in women’s athletics.

“Think about this: The idea of a women’s race, in the 1980s, was never something that was really ever thought about,” said James Capshew, associate professor of history and philosophy of science and an IU alum. “IU was a very open campus for both men and women, but it was just never thought of.”

Kappa Alpha Theta, a women’s team, attempted to qualify for the men’s race in 1987. Though they failed to qualify, their actions spurred the IUSF’s decision to create a separate women’s race. Though this is true, women had actually been trying to qualify for the Little 500 race since 1973, which, coincidentally, was the first Little 500 following Title IX.

In 1973, a group of six women set out to enter a Little 500 team, but were stopped by the IUSF. Though there was no rule barring women from riding, the Student Foundation took its stance as it feared for the safety of a women’s team competing against men. Undeterred, the women issued a complaint with the Bloomington Human Rights Commission. The motion was successful, as the commission filed an emergency order forcing the Student Foundation to let the women ride at qualifications. However, eligibility rules stated that teams couldn’t have transfer students, and one of the women had transferred to IU that semester. Though held out of qualifications, women would no longer be just spectators in the Little 500.

“For a time, the IUSF believed the race to be too dangerous for women,” said John Schwarb, author of the book The Little 500 and an Indiana graduate. “But through the 1970s and early ’80s there just wasn’t enough demand or initiative within IUSF.”

As times changed, however, so did the perception of women in athletics. A cycling club was formed in 1980, and where other women’s teams that attempted to qualify were unorganized and one-year things, women were better and more dedicated to racing.

“The ’87 Thetas got attention and respect because they had dedicated riders and were a sorority with a long history. They weren’t laughed at like women 15 years earlier. In retrospect the 1988 debut seems several years too late, but it just took time for a movement to take hold.”

“I’ll never forget our qualification time,” said Grotefeld. “Our first attempt was at 10 a.m., and we failed that, so we had to go back to the track at three in the afternoon to try and qualify again,” she said. “So we go back to the track after a five hour layoff, and we know that we have only one more shot at qualifying.”

1988 was also another anniversary, as ten years ago, the film Breaking Away was shot in Bloomington. The movie was about a team of four kids from Bloomington, called the ‘cutters,’ who defied the odds and won the Little 500.

“The first two exchanges went smoothly, which meant that we needed one more successful exchange and we would qualify. Well, the last exchange was to take place with the two girls who had never played a sport in their lives. We were all nervous, but the two girls made the exchange and we qualified. The scene was perfect; photographers were running down the track taking pictures, we were all cheering, and Dennis Quaid was there. We ended up qualifying third and got in the first row. It was one of the greatest moments of my college experience.”

The first women’s Little 500 race, similar to the first men’s race, involved a field of beginners going at a slow pace. No longer can that be said of the women’s race now, though.

“At first I didn’t know what I was getting into,” said sophomore Kate McDougal, a sophomore elementary education major and first-time rider for Kappa Alpha Theta. “We started training in August. Since then we’ve had fall rides, a winter break trip, and the team stayed in Bloomington for spring break to continue training,” she said.

“I love it, though. To be part of a team, and to have the whole house behind you and supporting you constantly, it’s awesome.”

Kappa Alpha Theta qualified sixth this year, and hopes to finish in the top five of this year’s race. As for how she compares both races, the riders view them differently than do the students.

“To the riders, neither race is more important than the other,” McDougal explained. “The men’s riders have just as much respect for our race as we do theirs. But I still feel like the campus and student body place more emphasis on the men’s race, solely because they’re men and they ride faster than women.”

Freshman Alex Ivory, a business management major, came down to Bloomington last spring to visit a friend during the Little 500. He issued the same sentiment as McDougal.

“Both races are a lot of fun, but the men’s race definitely generates a ton of energy around campus, more so than the women’s race. The women’s race is on a Friday night, and it’s a nice way to get hyped for the men’s race the next afternoon.”

The women’s race this year featured students and alumni, as well as empty bleachers, the reason being forty degree weather with consistent rain. The bad weather didn’t stop the race, and more importantly it didn’t stop the riders from demonstrating how competitive the women’s race is. Riders came out of transitions gassed, notably exhausted, yet kept pushing themselves and one another. The crowd was on edge too, cheering on their sororities and riders, hoping that their encouragements would be a deciding factor in the race. The race was even more exciting; entering the last lap, Theta clung to a slim lead, barely ahead of Delta Gamma. As both teams sped towards the finish line, DG passed Theta and nosed out a victory, winning by a front tire’s length. The DG riders celebrated by hugging one another, and the crowd cheered, not necessarily for the winning team, but for a great race.

Though there will always be differing opinions on which race brings more fans to Armstrong Stadium, the fact of the matter is that both men and women have their own races, and both groups respect one another. Most importantly, though, competing in the Little 500 signifies a special tradition shared with riders of the past.

“It was such an amazing time, to me it didn’t matter if we won or not. It just didn’t matter in the end. It was so hard and took so much effort just getting to the race, so when that gun went off it felt like we had already won.”

And Then There’s Me

Being a fan of a team that hails from a different city than the one I live in has found me in tough situations throughout my life. OK, tough situations may be stretching it, but every time I tell someone that, yes, I am a Redskins fan, and, yes, I have lived in the suburbs of Chicago for the majority of my life, a skeptical glance appears on their face. What’s the big deal? Is there a big deal?

No, it’s not a big deal. People cheer for different teams in different cities; it’s normal, and it’s great for animosity in sports. But for me, it has caused irreparable damage to my fandom of my beloved Redskins.

You see, when someone roots for a team from a different city/state, that person is trapped in a double bind that is hard to escape from without damaging some of their fan hood. They are either a fair weather fan, the worst kind of person, I might add; someone who hops bandwagons so frequently he or she undoubtedly has no soul. They see no harm in rooting for the Patriots the entire season, then celebrating when Eli Manning hoists the Lombardi Trophy high above his head.

Then there is me. I am loyal to my teams, almost so much so that it is hazardous to my mental and physical well being. Never have my rooting interests conflicted, and I do find pride in that. I’m in another category of misplaced persons rooting for their favorite teams, yet it doesn’t really have a name for itself. For example, these are the different types of reactions I get when I tell people that I am, indeed, a Redskins fan, through and through:

“Oh, OK.”

This person, however keeping their composure, is utterly confused. Matrix like numbers are going through their head, trying to calculate the right reason a sane person would root for the Redskins. They try to think of something, anything, but alas nothing comes to them. You both stand there in silence, knowing that the person is conjuring any reasonable idea as to why you cheer for the ‘Skins. “Well,” I respond, “my Dad grew up in the D.C. area.” The other person tries to process the statement, but surely cannot, and then leaves the awkward encounter, still trying to figure out why that crazy person is a Redskins fan (he’s crazy BECAUSE he’s a Redskins fan).

The next reaction is pure evil, from someone who has never had to endure an over-involved owner who repeatedly kills any chance his team has of doing anything better than a last place finish.

“uuuuuuuuuuuuuuggggggggggg”

It’s hard to put down on paper, but the sound is undeniable, a closed nostril grunt that, though not quite a laugh, is a sinister guffaw that is meant to torment. This person gets no pleasure when their team is triumphant; rather they get off on the demise of other teams. This person is a sadist; a creep whose little joy in life comes from seeing the Redskins score a touchdown in the final seconds of a game against Tampa Bay, only to see the Redskins botch the extra point, resulting in a one-point defeat. Simply put, this person is an asshole.

The third and final reaction that my rooting interest in the Redskins garners symbolizes everything about being a die-hard fan of a lousy team. Though it is neither oblivious to the situation or sinister, it is a one-word response that makes my body turn into jelly, searching for an answer to a near-impossible question.

“Why?”

“Why am I a Redskins fan? Well, that’s easy, my Dad grew up in the D.C. area” is what I say in response. And it’s over. The person wondering why my favorite football team is on the east coast gets an answer, and I’m satisfied because it’s the truth, my Dad and his family grew up in Silver Springs, MD in the 1970’s, back when the Redskins were a formidable team year in and year out; when Joe Gibbs was paving his way to Canton; when Joe Theisman and Art Monk and Darrell Green led the Redskins to NFC East titles and Super Bowl victories.

Every time I tell people why I’m a Redskins fan, I can tell my response is not exactly what they were looking for. The truth, in this instance, is not glamorous, but it’s the truth, nonetheless, and I hang my hat on it. And even though the Redskins have made a meager two playoff appearances since the new millennium, I continue to follow them week in and week out, watching their first game of the season with just as much enthusiasm as the last, even though it probably is meaningless.

Is it impressive that I watch every Redskins game year after year, or is my love and hope for a winning team too much for my sanity to overcome? I don’t know the answer to that question, but what I do know is that I love football and I love the Redskins, even if they deliberately crush my spirits multiple Sunday’s every fall. Also, I think I’ve finally found my follow-up response to the inquiry on my beloved Redskins:

“Well, my Dad grew up in Maryland, and he passed on his love of the Redskins to his first-born son.”

Incredulous inquirer: “That’s not much of a reason.”

“I’m glad you think my reasoning is ludicrous. How about this: Although they’ve never had any semblance of consistent success the past fifteen years, the ‘Skins just drafted a quarterback with a missile for a right arm and shifts so quick it looks like a gazelle is under center. He just won the Heisman trophy, has a cemented nickname already, and will succeed in the NFL, period. Does that answer your question?”

And with that, Robert Griffin III is my comeback to all naysayers. Thank you, RG3.

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