Oooohhaaargh. That's my moan of despair. Dear readers, I am coming off one of the most tragic weeks in athletics that I have ever had the misfortune to experience.
First was Duke's last minute loss to FSU on Sunday. Then, a mere few hours later, my beloved Bears suffered a rain-soaked defeat at the hands (or hooves) of the Colts. And finally, after a month full of mud, ice and tripping over tent cords in K-ville, we lost to Carolina at home for the second year in a row.
Oooohhaaargh.
I feel like one of those blow-up clowns that gets knocked down and then bounces back up for more abuse. The Bears haven't won the Super Bowl since I was in the womb and may not until my own great-grandbabies are. My pillows are forever stained with beer and K-ville mud. My face still burns from the acrylic paint I used for the game, as well as my own shame.
But you know what? There must be some good that can come of this. There must be some silver lining to the cloud of disappointment and loserdom that has followed every team I rooted for. Because sometimes, you can learn more from defeat than from winning. Thus, in the hopes of gaining from defeat, I have listed the lessons I learned over the past month:
1) Win or lose, the Super Bowl is the greatest American holiday there is. Not a holiday, you say? If Party City sells decorations for it, then it's a holiday in my book. The Super Bowl is a glorious time of year when we gather around with friends and family to celebrate three of the most American things of all: football, hot wings and blatant commercialism.
2) I learned that every car advertisement inevitably involves a hard-core industrial scene of a car being welded together in a factory. Sparks fly and metal screeches as futuristic robots construct the ultimate vehicle. Then, at last, the beast is released from the cage, and the automobile does something bad-ass with no basis in reality, like driving up a giant crane, or barreling off-road around dangerous mountain curves.
Come on, all I really need to know is that the car can fit all my luggage when I come home from school, and that the sound system can effectively blast "Smack That" as I tool around town. Everything else is just details.
3) I learned why Prince was chosen out of all other artists to be the sole performer at the 2007 Super Bowl half-time show. oh, wait, no I didn't.
4) As far as K-ville, the greatest lesson I learned was this: YOU CAN HEAR THROUGH TENT WALLS.
I know this may be hard to believe. You feel like you are in your own nylon cocoon of safety and privacy. But no, my friends, sound travels right through mesh. As a result of people's failure to understand this, I was privy to such priceless sound bites as:
"Dude, she's just some girl I suck face with on occasion."
"Sonuvabitch, I think I just sat in vomit!"
And, that age-old question we all grapple with:
"Hey guys, would you rather be stranded three miles out in the ocean knowing that no one is coming to rescue you, or be born with only three fingers on each hand?"
Oh, K-ville.
5) I learned that the experience of tenting and then standing side-by-side (or ass-by-crotch) at the Carolina game is the best way to bond with friends. You never feel closer with your fellow Dukie than when you later find their blue body paint all over the back of your shirt.
6) And finally, after a month of sleeping out in the cold, throwing hot wings at the TV set, and screaming my lungs out at the Carolina game, the greatest lesson I learned is this: the way that a person, a team, or a university handles defeat is the most revealing aspect of their character.
It is easy to bet large amounts of money on the team favored to win the Super Bowl. It is easy to sit home in the warmth and periodically glance at the FSU game on TV between your econ problem sets.
But it is inspiring when 1,200 students risk their personal comfort, their GPAs and their pride to sleep out in tents for up to a month, knowing that their team is going up against a much stronger one.
It is inspiring when a team of athletes plays their hearts out after two crushing defeats, refusing to accept that their opponent is ranked higher.
And it is inspiring when fans lose their voices cheering for their school before, during and especially after one of the most painful kinds of losses.
What did a sports disaster sound like Wednesday night? Not like the pitiful moan I let out at the beginning of this column, but rather, like the undefeatable roar of "Leeet's gooo Duuuke!" even when it was long after the clock had already run out.
I have never been prouder to be a loser.
Stacy Chudwin is a Trinity sophomore. Her column runs every other Friday.
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