Athenians, lend me your ears. Sunny April has arrived, and we can now put gray skies, snow, the flu and the wrath of Punxsutawney Phil behind us. We can finally sit outside and enjoy the scenery.
Allow me to be the first to admit that when the first warm day arrived last week, the scenery of this fine Southeastern Ohio campus immediately became more... scenic. However, as Athenians, we have much more than spring's arrival to celebrate. First of all, we survived the Ides of March without (as far as I know) a group of ambitious senators attacking or at least murdering anyone. Secondly, we made it through two consecutive days of trickery. The first being that not-so-funny 24 hours of April Fools jokes. The next, of course, is the evening where we were robbed of an hour's worth of sleep and, more importantly, drinking time in the bars.
So despite all these obstacles in our sometimes long and windy course to summer, we have survived. However, before I begin my spring festivities, I want to give credit to the phenomenon that fueled many of our survivals.
Although the title game of the NCAA Tournament was last night, there is still a stench of madness in the air that has nothing to do with Brutus, Cassius or NRA head honcho Charlton Heston (he played Marcus Antonius in Julius Caesar). It involves a dream, a glass slipper, a dance and that ridiculously cheesy song One Shining Moment. Yes, March Madness takes that sedated phase of late winter and shakes it up. However, the thrill of this year's tournament was far above the usual mid-March shake-up. Watching the Bobcats earn their first tournament birth since the Gary Trent era made this basketball season an unforgettable one. Even more specifically, the four seconds between NCAA birth and NIT death in the MAC championship might have been the most exciting four seconds I have experienced since Red Sox pinch-runner Dave Roberts stole second base in game 4 against the Yankees. Fractions of a second were the difference between an evening of depression and a night of chanting O'Shea
O'Shea O'Shea O'Shea in various Court Street bars. Even after a week of enjoying cloud nine, the Florida loss didn't reduce the thrill. It couldn't reduce the thrill, because the invitation to The Dance is what meant something. It put our university back on the map -one step closer to the big time.
Now, as a big-time hoops contender, Ohio fans can look ahead and begin an official countdown until the 2005/2006 season opener. We have high hopes and great expectations. More importantly, we have a legitimate excuse to put our studies aside and attend more games at the Convo, despite what our academically motivated conscious may tell us. By the same rationale, one could say the same thing about the 2005 Bobcat football season. By no means am I a big-time Ohio University football fan (which honestly, with all due respect, is an oxymoron). I'm a fan of big-time college football. So that means if the game being played in the stadium of the school that I attend holds a fraction of a significance of the game on my television, then I'm going to order a pizza and stay home. However, with the hiring of ex-Husker Frank Solich, I find myself not only thinking about the Bobcats' season, but anticipating it. I look forward to seeing Dave Wannstedt, with his 70s-porno mustache, bring the Pittsburgh Panthers into Peden Stadium. I look forward to seeing Athens create a proper college game-day atmosphere. We might not get Fowler, Corso and Herbstreet, but I expect to see tailgaters, signs and legitimate enthusiasm: all the things necessary for a big-time football atmosphere.
Make no mistake -I love this campus with or without sports. However, I am completely sincere when I say that Tim O'Shea and Frank Solich have the opportunity to do more for the atmosphere of this campus than any stack of bricks or spell of warm weather could ever do. With big-time sporting events comes big-time school pride. And although we will all be proud when we earn our degrees, we can also be proud for future bowl games and tournament appearances.
With all the big-time references I have made, I hope you loyal Post readers don't get that Peter Gabriel song (Big Time) stuck in your heads. Then again, I guess it's better than constantly humming In Your Eyes. I mean, that could lead to an abundance of people deciding to pull a John Cusack and stand outside of female dorm rooms holding boom-boxes above their heads. But if it adds to the campus atmosphere, then I'm all for it. After all, spring scenery does crazy things to March Madness survivors.
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