It's amazing the power and meaning that can be packed into three little words. I mean, these are utterances that, once declared, are irreversible. For once the words are spoken, the speaker is committed to a rather serious relationship.
Now, this is a senior column, but it's still a sports column, so you know I'm not talking about the L-word. I'm talking about the T-word, or the Th-word if you prefer to distinguish words beginning with only the letter "t" from those starting with "th." The sacred statement that means commitment in the passionate relationship between spectator and sport: "I was there."
"There" could be either Cameron or Koskinen Stadium, or, for that matter, Carmichael Auditorium, Greensboro Coliseum or a bonfire-blazing West Campus. I've realized that when I say, "I was there," about a sporting event, I say it not only as an admission, answer or boast, but also as an acknowledgment that yes, I was there--and others were not. For every event about which I can say the three magic words, there are hundreds more about which I wish I could stake my claim.
My lucky father not only got the chance to be there in Minneapolis in early April, but he spent the following weekend at the Masters in Augusta, Ga. He was there and can say so.
Meanwhile, I have spent this semester student teaching in a Durham public high school. Instead of being there at many of the fun, carefree events promised to spring-term seniors, and instead of being here at the Chronicle office, I've graded essays and made up Internet scavenger hunts on Shakespeare. Although at times I've felt as I imagine a baby must when it gets its first whack on the bottom and then its first breath of unfiltered, real world air, I would not trade my student teaching experience for a more "normal" senior spring. And I have not missed everything. When my students came into English class the morning of April 3 and asked about the legendary flames that consumed West Campus the previous night, I told them I was there.
I first realized the capacity of this little trio my freshman year at Duke, when I felt it was crucial to connect with as many people on as many levels as possible. When in doubt, or failing to find literary, cultural, geographical, religious or culinary links, it was my defense mechanism to resort to sports (this was an especially effective tactic with males--go figure). A typical freshman-year conversation with any random guy in my dorm is recreated here for your illumination of a lightbulb moment for me.
Me: "So, I see you have a nice wristband. Have you always been into Duke basketball?"
He: "No, actually, if you remember the Duke-Kentucky game back in 1992, I was at a Bar Mitzvah watching on TV and was totally cheering for Kentucky. I was so mad about that game, and God, I hated Christian Laettner."
Me: "Oh yeah? I was there."
He: "Really? No way! You were at that game?!"
The conversation that would otherwise have dead-ended would then continue for minutes, sometimes even into double-digit minutes. "I was there," used to modify a notable sporting event (there were others besides the 1992 classic), became my new favorite line until sorority rush, where it did not quite have the same power illustrated in the previously simulated colloquy.
You see, my relationship with sports is long and complex.
I've always been a spectator and never an athlete. But perhaps because I cannot relate to the unscripted exposition, climax and denouement of the game or the season through the eyes of the player, I find sports alluring, fascinating and perhaps a bit overzealously, I find them allegorical.
I've been a good spectator. A former high school cheerleader, I joined The Chronicle sports staff in the fall of my freshman year. While my contributions have been sporadic, being a member of the sports staff gave me the opportunity to be there often, and to enjoy sports (and others who also enjoy them) even more often.
The national championship bonfire is among my favorite "I was there" moments from my soon-to-expire tenure as a Duke student. Another is the one-minute miracle comeback and overtime win at Maryland in January. Thanks to The Chronicle, I was there.
Beyond that, the triumphs of the women's basketball team are some of my most cherished memories. I sat on press row for women's hoops more than for any other sport; a road trip to Virginia freshman year was my first basketball game story. The real three-special-words times, though, were when my microcassette recorder and notepad were at home and I was simply a fan of the game and a friend to the team.
During my freshman year, Rochelle Parent lived down the hall from me and between then and now, she's been both a roommate and a neighbor, and always one of my closest friends. Other players, past and present, are also on the short-list of people I would call if my car broke down in a ghost town and I wasn't a member of AAA.
So I was glad that I could scream and yell and joyfully cry when Duke beat Tennessee in the East Regional final in Greensboro in 1999. Also in Greensboro, I saw the Blue Devils win their first ACC tournament championship in 2000, defeating North Carolina by only three points. For both milestones, I was there.
In May, I'll leave Duke. But what will I say when someone mentions that Senator Battier or Dr. Schweitzer used to be one hell of a basketball player, or asks if anyone knows where the WNBA star Alana Beard played college ball? I'll say, I was here.
Andrea Bookman is a Trinity senior and senior associate sports editor.
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