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Commodore Notebook – October 10 10/10/2006 Commodore Notebook Why do you suppose that athletes are so often admired by the masses? It’s been that way for centuries. I used to wonder why we worshipped the guy that could smack a golf ball 300 yards or blast a curve ball into the upper deck in the ninth inning. We idolize athletes because they personify what we fantasize we could achieve with our own lives. We wish for the poise required to hit that jumper with thousands of people screaming; we recognize we often lack the inner strength to come through in the clutch. We dream we might bounce back from adversity like our sports heroes do, especially when in real life we know our own weaknesses when the chips are down. So we toast the quarterback who leads his team to a come-from-behind victory. We stand in line for an autograph from the coach who turned his team from a loser into a winner. And, conversely, we are quick to jump off a team’s bandwagon when it fails to catch lightning in a bottle. I was in Oxford when Halloween came early. Ole Miss came dressed like an underdog but when it rang our doorbell and shouted “trick or treat” we gave them the game. It was disappointing to everyone in Commodore costumes. There has been very little said or written about that game that I haven’t thought myself. I’ve been here awhile and I’ve seen that before. You have, too. But once I got over the frustration of knowing one got away, I have adopted the demeanor of those champions I cherish. I noticed how our coaches reacted in the immediate moments after the game. To be sure, they were a jumble of emotions ranging from frustration to quiet reflection. But to the man they were strong and offered NO EXCUSES inside or outside the locker room. Their determined comments were directed forward, to this week’s game, and did not wallow in the spilled milk. They know what they are doing. With every passing day, I become more convinced Bobby Johnson is the best football coach we’ve had on our campus in decades. The same is true for his staff. If you had the advantage of my view, you would concur, although I could understand if you are guffawing at that statement right now. I’ve seen teams lose intensity as a discouraging season progressed. Some might call it “quitting” but football is a difficult game to entirely quit. When a team gets down, it still tries to win on game day but it loses focus during the week. I honestly have not seen that in Bobby’s five years here — to me a remarkable achievement and a tribute to his exceptional motivational and teaching skills. We’ve had enough talk about voodoo and hapless history. It’s cute to mention and it might elicit a laugh in some circles but curses are hogwash. The only jinx I remember is the one where Barney Fife was convinced he was a jinx and Sheriff Andy Taylor proved his wasn’t. There are no jinxes and those young men on the field Saturday are not mystically channeling with teams that played here five or 20 years ago. It was one game, nothing more and nothing less, and this squad learned the hard way that five turnovers will get you beat in the SEC, regardless of the opposition. For my money, it was the first SEC road game in a long time in which we didn’t show headway. To refresh your memory, we played Arkansas last year before 68,000 Hog fans and won, followed by a narrow loss at South Carolina before over 70,000, lost in double-over-time at the infamous Swamp, beat Tennessee before 107,000, played Top 10 Michigan tough before 109,000 and lost 13-10 in front of 92.000 Alabama fans. That is sufficient evidence for me that our talent level has risen and that our coaches have us moving forward. As fans, we must remember what those special athletes do when the going gets tough. And then we need to do it. |
