Mental Health

So, since nothing has happened since the last blog post…

…other than the most exhilarating, stupefying, glorious, cathartic sports weekend ever.

I’ll never forget every minute detail of those two games, at least from my perspective.  The games themselves, I’m a bit lost on.

We had a game at 4:00 on Saturday; after stadium clean-up, the game was just getting ready to start, so I drove home with the game on the radio.  Katie drove up to Lawrence for the game, and was watching at the Jazzhaus, but for all the reasons enumerated in McGinty’s guest post, and more, I didn’t feel like I could watch the UNC game with other people. There was too much on the line, too much of my sports fandom wrapped up in one game. The highs were too high, the lows too low. I couldn’t even watch it. I literally went to our bedroom and remained face down on the bed, listening to the national radio broadcast…couldn’t even handle Bob and Pipe.

When we extended the lead to 12 for the final time, I started to get dressed, and gradually made my way downtown. I parked just after the whistle blew, and Downtown exploded into the streets.  That was truly a night for revelry. I found friends and family on the streets, and we all celebrated wildly.

I had moved well beyond hating Roy for the events of 2003, but at the same time, I don’t know how I would have handled losing to them in that situation.  More importantly, that win was needed for our whole fan base, to collectively get over it.  Of course winning a national championship is a bigger deal, but is it more important for the collective psyche of the fanbase? I don’t know.

We all love Bill Self. He’s genuine (well, all but the rug). He’s pleasant. He’s fatherly and brotherly and a guy you want to have a beer with. He clarifies so many of the things we always found vaguely annoying about Roy that were magnified when we saw them through the prism of an opposing fan. But until Saturday night, he never *really* had the fans. Roy’s UNC was the dragon that had to be slayed, the tumor that had to be excised.  Even had we lost Monday night, it would have been okay.

And so it was, free from dread, and free from fears over my emotions, that I watched the final at The Jazzhaus. Katie came up from Wichita, and we met Fizell and Sarah there, who had been holding a table for us since some ungodly hour.

You all saw the game, hopefully with other Jayhawks. Enough ink has been spilled over it, so I won’t bother. All I can say is that I’ve never been happier for a team to win than this one.

Of course, when the game ended, I laughed, I drank, I cried, we hugged, we danced (Danced, even). But after a few minutes, revelry didn’t seem appropriate.  I contacted Dan, Abby, Mike and a few others, and just told people to meet up by the door of The Jazzhaus.  We stayed there for a few hours, watching the action, hugging friends passing by. Other than the day Wiz Field opens, I’m pretty sure that sports are all downhill from here. “Downhill” isn’t right…it’s that it’s hard to imagine a high as high, or a low as low.

I’m off to the spring game.

Rock Chalk, Jayhawk.