My father visited me in Eugene for the first ever meeting between the two schools the previous year and our pleasant reunion quickly soured as our unproven quarterbacks were knocked out, and our supposedly veteran defense was burned on play action passes time and again.
After ending the 2009 season on a high of demolishing Oregon State at Reser Stadium and pulling away from Oklahoma State in the Holiday Bowl, I confidently awaited the revenge match with Boise State the following September.
The game started late on a Thursday night which was early afternoon Friday for us. As luck would have it, I was called in to meet my principal and co-workers for the first time exactly as the ball was being kicked off over ten thousand miles away.
During the first quarter, I was called into the Principal's opulent office and served barley tea. I sat in an over sized leather chair and stared unblinkingly into the depths of the rhinestones in his pink, sparkly, and impeccably knotted necktie. The flashing accessory was light bulbs popping at the Super Bowl in my mind's eye, and I could pay no attention to the words coming from his mouth even if he weren't speaking in Korean.
Unfortunately, instead of watching the second half of the game, I was whisked away to a nearby hospital where I underwent a standard physical, and paid $80 for a swine flu test which consisted of nothing more than running a cotton swab along my inner cheek.
It wasn't until later that night when I was able to check the game recap online at a PC room (we were still weeks away from apartment Internet access). Like a LeGarrette Blount sucker punch to the jaw, I winced not only at the outcome of the game (Eight freaking points! Are you kidding me!), but also the subsequent melee and immediate national ridicule.
Years ago, my high school football coach, in an attempt to ease our adolescent nerves, commented that there were a billion people in China who didn't have the slightest clue about the importance of the upcoming game. It took ten years, but I finally understood what he meant as I walked home hurt, embarrassed and ashamed of my university. The worst part of it was that I had no one to discuss the game with. Those first few weeks were when I missed my family and friends the most. I moped around for at least two full days saddened by the loss.
As the weeks went on, and we became blessed with the gift of Internet access, I began a weekly ritual of hunting for games. Oregon started to win again, first nail biters to teams we were heavily favored against and then convincing wins against traditional powerhouses like USC. I would wake up as early at 3:30 on Sunday mornings to watch the Ducks and then go back to bed when it was over. Of course, the most frustrating but glorious experience of the past football season was the Civil War, where for the first time ever, the winner would receive an invitation to play in the Rose Bowl on New Year's Day. I say frustrating because recently the game has been moved to Thursday night which, again, was Friday afternoon for us. This time I actually had to work, and kept checking for updates in between classes. I fear that I may have taught those kids their first ever curse words and to despise what they assumed was a rather cute and unassuming river rodent. In atypical fashion, I scarfed down my lunch in about three minutes and ran back to my classroom to check the score. Oregon State had scored late and taken the lead. Oregon only had one drive to go and ending up going for it on fourth down twice. All the while, I am making kids repeat "I like chicken." It was agonizing.
We watched the Rose Bowl at the Hard Rock cafe in Fiji. There is no doubt in my mind that we were the only two people on the entire island nation watching the game. I say this with confidence because I called every bar on the main island we were on and the Hard Rock was the only place showing it. Also, we were the only two in the bar. Sami drank beer and I chased my vodka and Red Bulls down with beer. I was good and hammered and angry when I saw the navy and white of Penn State and the yellow and purple of LSU instead of whatever colors the Ducks were deciding to go with. Turns out my frustration was short lived. I had miscalculated the kick-off time and the Rose Bowl would air right after the Capitol One Bowl. Knowing that I couldn't keep up the pace I had started, we ordered breakfast.
Outside the bar it was pouring down rain and inside I was unleashing a torrent of expletives. When the game ended, I promptly power walked out of the bar and sat dejected on the curb waiting for the Bula bus to take us to the resort. What an exhausting season (made even more so by events that would unfold off the field in the coming weeks).
I wasn't able to watch a single live snap of pro football last season. The NFL is very strict about streaming games online and it is impossible to find a decent one. Also, the games start at about 3 a.m. and 5:30 a.m. on Monday morning. I was relegated to reading stats and watching the Gamecast online.
Gamecast is a program that provides written play by play of the game complete with stats. Lines on a simulated field mark the length of drives.
Imagine my surprise sitting at my desk on Super Bowl Sunday (Monday), watching the Colts driving in the final minutes, only to see a giant yellow line indicating a 79 yard interception returned for a touchdown. Unbelievable. One of the most exciting plays in Super Bowl history and I saw a line across a screen. Over one hundred million people drunkenly screaming at big screen TVs in households and sports bars across the country and here I am sitting at a desk in the middle of the day.
For the NBA season, I decided to start my own fantasy league. This turned out great because it helped keep me informed with what was going on with every team. I became an expert on individual stats, but I never got to experience the beauty of an alley-oop or the thrill of a last second shot. I had to find out about Greg Oden getting hurt through friends' Facebook status updates. Another dark day.
Despite the indifference toward my favorite sports, Koreans really are fanatics, especially when it comes to the World Cup. We avoided the enormous crowds that gathered to watch the games shown on jumbotrons across the country. However, even from our quiet abode, we could still hear deafening waves of gleeful shouting eminating from our apartment complex and at the public gathering miles away. The entire experience was unlike anything I have ever seen and I have an increased appreciation for the sport as a result.
Recently, I have been following the whole to-do with LeBron James' free agency. I am completely baffled by the amount of hate that is being directed his way. I am sure my emotions are tempered from having been spared the hype and debacle of his one hour selection special, but what exactly is the big deal? His contract is up and he can play for whoever he wants. It just so happens that he chose a lot less money to play with teammates he enjoys playing with. Is that so wrong?
I think this whole experience has mellowed me out. Don't get me wrong, it kills me not to watch, but I haven't missed some of the negative emotions that comes with being a fan. There will never be another loss that will hurt as much as the BSU loss last fall. Because of this, I can hopefully move forward with the realization that they are just games. After all, there are millions of people in China, and Korea, who have no idea they are even being played.
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