unacceptable loyalities.

Being a sports fan is advantageous in many ways. The players have to worry about the media, the politics, the coaches. There is a rulebook chalked full of personal fouls, ground-rule doubles, offsides, goaltending, and unsportsmanlike conduct. Lucky for the fans we don’t have to worry about 15-yard penalties, fines for technicals, or what any coach thinks. But we have rules. Boy, do we have rules. As a sports fan, it is hard to admit when sports have steered me wrong, but they have. I have broken one of the cardinal rules of sports fandom, and I am ashamed. Where did I go wrong?

What happens when everything you trusted as good and fair did you wrong? It’s like waking up in your grandmother’s house and looking around because you didn’t remember falling asleep there. It’s strange, unfamiliar, and confusing. And then it hits you, you know where you are, but why are you there? I am stuck, and I don’t know how I got here. It’s like I was kidnapped in the middle of the night and tucked snugly into a plush bed at grandma’s house. The sun shines in, the blanket is pulled up over my eyes, but suddenly it’s ripped away. I am the fan of two rival teams. How did this happen?

There is no defining moment I can turn to and blame for this problem. No game, no play, no coach, no player. I don’t know how I got here, but here I am, stuck. Cheering for the Penn State Nittany Lions and the Michigan Wolverines. I want to blame my parents; believe that I was born bleeding navy and white, from my father, and blue and yellow, from my mother. But we all bleed red, no matter how many t-shirts we have that say differently. How could they let this happen?

I have tried to remedy this serious sports illness, but I am think I am suffering from a terminal disorder. I’ve used every trick in the book, done all the prescribed methods: nothing works. I’ve judged character, coaches, jersey style, individual players, play calling, location, and it all comes down to the same result: I am the fan of two rival teams. No solution can fix this detrimental problem. As I write this I am addressing what most say is the first step to recovery: denial. I no longer deny this unforgivable sports sin. I hope the next eleven steps come soon, painless, and easy. But for now, all I can do is admit it: I am the fan of two rival teams.

I dread the day of this Big Ten matchup every year, it reminds me of my wrong doings. Like the pictures from the nights you’d wish to forget, or the camera-caught speeding ticket that gets mailed to your front door. You know it’s there and you’re the culprit, but maybe, just maybe, if we don’t think about it, it will go away. But it doesn’t, there it lies dormant, ready to strike and remind you that you have done wrong. Watching your teams tackle eachother, the colors bleeding together, and then it comes back: I am the fan of two rival teams.

So as I sign off I wish upon you to forgive me, understand that I have tried to fix this. But I am the fan of two rival teams.