Joy and Pain

Rob Base put it best (for you young bucks out there who don’t know who Rob Base is, I suggest you use Google).  “Joy, and pain. Sunshine, and rain.”  Such is the life of a Miami Hurricane fan.  Our emotional peaks and valleys coincide with the team’s performance.  But, why are the lows so much more painful than the highs? 

 

There has to be tons of psychological studies on this, none of which I will get to here.  I’m simply trying to convey the point that, as Hurricane fans (or whoever your team may be), the pain and torture of a loss is much more agonizing than any joy felt from a victory.  Think about it.  Was the happiness you felt after they won the 2002 Rose Bowl greater than the sadness experienced after the 2003 Fiesta Bowl?  

 

College Football is unlike any sport in that one loss – one single loss – can derail a team’s hopes of a national title.  Granted, in recent years teams with one (and even two) losses have gone on to win championships, but a loss in college football typically translates to your national title hopes being all but dashed.  The reason for this is simple: they only play 12 games and there is no postseason tournament.  Major league baseball has 162 games a year.  Basketball and hockey have 82.  College basketball has roughly 30 games to go along with a 65 team tournament.  Even professional football teams, who only have 16 regular season games a year, can easily absorb a few losses without it truly affecting their ability to win a championship.  This is why college football’s lack of a playoff system is a beautiful thing.  A postseason tournament would nullify the intensity and excitement that surrounds weekly college football games.  

 

This is also the reason why a loss can be so devastating.  I have a friend who is an FSU fan who simply refuses to go to another FSU game in Miami.  The games he’s been to?  Wide Right II, Wide Right III, Wide Left, and the 2004 game (Frank Gore in OT).  What’s that saying…fool me once, shame on you; fool me twice, shame on me?  Well, he’s not about to get fooled for a fifth time.  In thinking of all the last second games the Hurricanes have been involved in (and the Hurricanes have fared quite well in this category), the victories seem almost like escapism as opposed to sheer joy.  And the losses…man, do they sting.  The 1987 Fiesta…the 1988 Notre Dame game…the 1993 Sugar Bowl.  And yes, the coup de gras…the 2003 Fiesta Bowl.  For some reason, even the 1999 Penn State game in the Orange Bowl sticks out in my mind.  A poor spot by the refs resulted in Miami’s having to go for it on 4th down to seal the game.  They failed and then a Penn State WR inexplicably got behind the UM safeties for the winning score.  Ugh.  Sure it was nice to beat Ohio State in the Kickoff Classic that year, but all I remember from ’99 is that Penn State game in the rain.  

 

Even the victories aren’t always pure joy.  My first memory of any college football game is of the 1984 Orange Bowl.  I remember watching the game with my dad at home and, out of sheer nervousness, he unknowingly ripped off the cover of our TV Guide during that last 2 point conversion attempt.  And these are the victories?  Sign me up!  As an 11 yr old in 1986, I attended Miami’s 28-16 win over Oklahoma, though I really don’t remember much about the game.  But you know what I do vividly remember?  Watching on TV a few months later as Penn State’s Pete Giftopoulis picked off Vinny Testaverde for the fifth time.  Later, I would watch Wide Right I and celebrate the win and ensuing championship.  But you know what, the happiness felt as a result of that pales in comparison to the devastation of the ’93 Sugar Bowl. 

 

Perhaps it was because it was a blowout, but the 2002 Rose Bowl was more a relief than anything else.  Sure, we won our fifth title but we were supposed to – we’re Miami, after all.  The following year I headed to Tempe with some friends.  And yes, it doesn’t get more painful than the way they lost that game…but, exiting that stadium and lying in my Tempe hotel room that night I literally felt like a loved one had died.  On the flight home, I did a little self evaluation.  Is this how I want my emotions dictated?  That loss took so much out of me (and I imagine other die hard Cane fans), it literally made me reassess my devotion to the Canes.  Should I reel it in a little?  But, you can’t.  Or, you won’t.  It’s in our blood, in our DNA.  When your team is driving for that 4th quarter score to win the game, your heart is racing and you’re cursing at the ref while throwing your empty beer cans at the TV (well, maybe not that extreme).  Try as you might, you can’t minimize these reactions.  We’re like Pavlov’s dog…ring a bell and we’ll salivate.  Well, show me Jacory rolling out as time expires, down by 4 and trying to hit a slightly open Leonard Hankerson, and my heart will beat like I’m Rush Limbaugh on a StairMaster. 

 

I remember hearing that Vinny Testaverde’s father was suffering from heart problems.  His doctor ordered him to not watch his son play football (Testerverde was in the pros at the time), as it would cause his heart undue stress.  That made me think….am I taking years off my life by watching the Canes?  Uh, probably.  Am I adding years on when they win?  Probably not.  Am I going to change?  No.