After a NCAA study on the possible violations by USC's football team, they have been banned from bowl games for two years and forfeit the national title. A group is looking into snatching Reggie Bush's Heismann trophy away from him.
If I was on another team, I'd probably high five an old classmate and say something to the effect of "That's what they get!" But I used to play football. I wasn't a starter until my senior year and there is something absolutely demoralizing about busting your butt all week at practice just to sit on the bench come game day. And you don't even get to sit on the bench! It's embarrasing. It's worse if your parents are there.
I can't imagine what this news felt like for the guy or guys on the team who gave it all they had, but still weren't good enough to get more than a few minutes playing time when the coach was bored and TV stations wer on commercial breaks. What about the guy who tore tendons, pulled muscles and practically sacrificed his body for the team; but didn't end up with multi-million dollar contracts while dating A-listers? That poor guy may have gotten laid off during the recession. He may go home look at his wall of championship memories and draw inspiration from it. Do you really want to tell that guy that his years on the team were wasted, stricken from the record and never existed?
Sure, Bush can say, "Oh well, I'll accept whatever they throw at us." He's rich! I'm saying don't take it away from the guy that tells the best story about the little time he played and the story gets more elaborate every year. Let that man keep his story and his dignity. Please, NCAA? I think I might be that man one day.
Here is my story and I'm stickin' to it. Next year, it'll sound even better.
Stop me if you've heard this one before... So we were playing our rivals, right? And they almost didn't have the game because of wind and rain.. No wait, it was a hurricane. Yeah, that's it. So we were playing in a hurricane. And it rained for days before the game... The score was tied and we were going for the field goal. All you could hear was rain drops, the wind howling and the sound of a solitary bass drum counting the seconds on the clock. Boom.... Boom.... Boom...
I could smell the stench and hot breath on the guy lined up in front of me. Nose to nose. The QB yells 'Hike!' and the kicker lays into that ball with everything he has, but they broke through our line and blocked the ball. Before it hit the ground, I grabbed it and ran around the pile of bodies grunting and growling. They were clawing at the ground like rabid animals trying to grab ahold of my cleats. One tackle missed. Two tackles missed. The rain was practically blinding me. I could only navigate my way to the inzone by scoreboard lights and the sound of the crowd out of my right ear.
I felt a guy breathing down my neck. Someone had missed their tackle! So I'm telling myself. '4 yards... 3 yards... 2 yards...' and then I lept into the air just as the guy was diving underneath me. I landed on him and hydroplaned into the inzone like a slip n' slide. What can I say? I just had that instinct, you know? Well with no time left on the clock, that was the game. I felt like a champ. And the hottest girl in school came up and laid one on me. I took her to homecoming and the rest is history.
The truth:
It did rain pretty bad. That was a crucial kick. The kicker hit me in the butt with the ball and the QB dove on it to prevent the other team from scoring on us again. We lost that game by 8 or 12 points. I did take the prettiest girl in school to homecoming, but I asked her the third day of classes. She's now married to some guy and works as a used car salesperson in Spain.
*USC sanctioned story
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