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I think one of the things that truly boggles me about football is how seriously everybody takes it. One side of their mouth calls it a game and uses phrases like "good sportsmanship" to illustrate how organized and sensible their higher reasoning skills are. Meanwhile, the other side of their mouth discusses how they really feel about it and they take it far more seriously than the word "game" implies. They take it so seriously, in fact, you'd think their name was Ender and that the "game" involved is obliterating an alien species.
To quote the Joker, "Why so serious?"
I understand the concept of competitiveness. I, myself, am very competitive when I play a game. Winning a game feels great. Losing a game means I'll probably spout of a few choice words that I should not print in this column; but regardless of whether I win or lose, I'm over it within five minutes. I don't take games seriously and I'm certainly not about to bend reality for the sake of appearances.
I met Willie the Wildcat last spring while attending the grand opening of the Wefald farewell exhibit at the Kemper Art Gallery. I watched Willie with detached interest as he wandered from group to group of people to shake hands and have photos taken.
It was very surreal. Not as surreal, I'm sure, as it would have been if this were Wichita and I was watching a stack of hay with a face snuggle up to people for photo ops, but it was odd, nonetheless.
It was so weird for me because everybody took him so seriously. Everybody smiled, said "Hello, Willie," and chatted with him as if he were an old friend. Their questions had to be limited to yes-and-no, of course, because Willie can't talk. He merely bobs his huge, cartoonish head up and down or side to side. It reminded me of when I went to Disney World as a child and my mother would point to somebody in a Mickey Mouse costume and tell me to go talk to "Mickey" so she could get our picture. I knew it wasn't Mickey and I felt really, really uncomfortable pretending that it was for her sake. I remember watching the other children my age and wondering if they were faking, like me, or if they were truly delusional.
Now that I'm an adult, it's downright disturbing to watch people interact with Willie as a person instead of as a figment of their imagination. I felt dizzy. I wondered if I'd been sucked into the Twilight Zone or if someone had slipped something into my iced tea.
My boyfriend and his family are tailgating before the game this Saturday and they've invited me to tag along. I didn't know who was playing, so I asked - the University of Massachusetts. Just now, while writing this article, I looked them up on Wikipedia to see what their mascot is. It's the Minuteman. For those of you who aren't sure what a minuteman is, it's a name used for elite soldiers during the American Revolution who fought the British. They had to get ready to go fight at any time in just a minute, hence the name.
So, now I have this mental image of Willie the Wildcat and an "Olde Schoole" colonist with a tri-point hat dancing around the football field and thousands of cheering fans taking them very, very seriously.
It almost makes me afraid to laugh.
Almost.
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