Winning Won't Cure All Ills

Championships are celebrated by confetti from the rafters, immortalized by photographs of grinning victors, and congratulated by fans, friends and family. But Wednesday night at The Colosseum on Campus, the spectators fled the stands before the final buzzer sounded, the champagne was flat, and fittingly, the Campus Intramural Services staff did not have a camera on hand to photograph the frustrated victors.

The Fraternity League Championship was contested between my Fraternity and one of the smaller chapters on campus last night, but it was hardly played, more survived. As one of my fellow seniors said as we exited the gym, the game was “a waste of time.” Our victory was marred and ruined by the antics, whining and horrendous show of sportsmanship and class by our opponents, who had stunned the Greek world by defeating a perennial powerhouse and our chief rival in basketball, robbing us of a chance to defend our title in a rematch of last season’s championship.

I have played basketball since before I could tie my shoes, and have outlined my love for the game before. Basketball is beautiful, and has long been a constant in my life while other things shifted into equilibrium. All games have rules, but basketball has a culture. You enter the gym, lace up your sneakers, pick sides, and officiate your own game, calling fouls, travels and baskets. The games get heated, and you always want to win, but there exists a mutual respect between you and the guy in the other color, because you both are in the club, you both are ballers.
Unfortunately, not everyone who heads to the playground is in the club. Some people forget that winning isn’t worth it if the game drags on as an offending player whines and calls phantom fouls and travels to give his side a leg up. But justice on the court is swift; his teammates quickly freeze him out, and he will have trouble getting back on the court, because few will be willing to put up with his tired act.

Last night was the equivalent. Thankfully, campus does provide student officials for the games; however, they do not have a future career in the discipline. While they often botch calls, mangle the rules and slow down the game, they are at least consistently poor. It isn’t expected that they will get every call correct, or even most calls, and their crime is typically calling far too many fouls, not too few.

These facts escaped the vanquished last evening. The game was over from the tip, as we rushed out to a quick 22-5 advantage as our opponent sat back in a zone and were picked apart by three-point field goals. I had a tough half, finishing with no points and four fouls, not all of which were well called, but I merely shook my head and headed to the bench as my teammates started the second half with a large advantage.

They had no interest in going quietly, but instead of mounting a comeback, they merely took what was going to be an embarrassing defeat and made it an unenjoyable mess of a game. They repeatedly flopped in an attempt to draw charges, and were outraged when they were called for blocks. They cursed, talked trash, and chased down fleeing officials headed for the scorers table to document their latest infraction. By the end of the game, they had two players thrown out after receiving two technicals, one of whom was forced to leave the premises or risk his team forfeiting the game, three spectators removed for verbally abusing the officials and only four players left to finish the last pathetic minute of the championship contest. What should have been a crisply played game turned into a free-throw exhibition for our team, as they slapped, hacked and pushed their unjustified frustrations on our team.

While I was peeved that my career had closed on such a low point, and that our opponent’s thuggish and immature response to the poor officiating had ruined any possibility of satisfaction from winning our second consecutive title, I was most disappointed by another example of Greek-on-Greek hate. While it is no secret that rivalries exist between the Greek chapters on campus, it is so discouraging to see them become petty bickering matches, often followed by destructive vandalism. I dislike a great number of fraternities on this campus, because I have great pride for my own and want it to be the best, but have forged mutual friendships built on respect towards other chapter’s basketball teams and players, because they are in the club. My brothers have disappointed me with their brutish behavior to rival chapters in the past, and unkind words have passed my lips towards other fraternities, but this offense struck home, robbing me of my joy, passion and ultimately, my last win.

Instead of my last memory being as I dreamed it, surrounded by my brothers as we hoisted our second trophy in as many years, it will instead by the surly faces of our opponent, chasing down the referees and taunting our fans as they scurried for the exits, just happy to have not witnessed a fight or serious injury.