A healthy dose of rivalries spice up sports
Though unofficial, this week could be called Rivalry Week at San
Benito High School, with the Baler baseball team completing an
emotional two-game face-off with Gilroy and the softball team
dispatching Notre Dame at home.
Rivalries were even in play academically at school, as
administrators encouraged students to do well on standardized STAR
testing in order to improve on last year’s performance and continue
to stay ahead of Gilroy’s school-wide score. Hey, whatever
works.
Having a nemesis or an archrival seems to help, whether it’s
high school, college or professional sports.
A healthy dose of rivalries spice up sports
Though unofficial, this week could be called Rivalry Week at San Benito High School, with the Baler baseball team completing an emotional two-game face-off with Gilroy and the softball team dispatching Notre Dame at home.
Rivalries were even in play academically at school, as administrators encouraged students to do well on standardized STAR testing in order to improve on last year’s performance and continue to stay ahead of Gilroy’s school-wide score. Hey, whatever works.
Having a nemesis or an archrival seems to help, whether it’s high school, college or professional sports.
When I was a Baler athlete many moons ago, Palma was not just our rival, but our nemesis. They always fielded strong teams and we always got up for those games. I have friends and my sons have friends who are Chieftains – and they are good people and it’s a good school – but I really like to see them lose because beating them means we rose to the challenge.
My freshman son’s basketball team beat Palma two out of three times this year and my older son’s varsity team beat them in Mattson Gym, so that was fun. The Baler football team battled but lost to the Chieftains but they beat longtime rival Gilroy in the Prune Bowl, so there was joy there as well.
That football win also allowed our basketball fans to chant “Just like football!” when the Baler basketball team beat the Mustangs. It was a payback to Mustang fans who chanted “Prune Bowl” during a basketball game at Mattson Gym a season or two ago.
The competitiveness of sports is what makes it so appealing, even for 40-something guys like me who are well beyond our playing days. No longer can we lace ’em up and swing a bat or tackle somebody or shoot a free throw to win a game – except on Playstation. But there is joy in being a fan or a coach or a parent and experiencing that adrenaline rush, which is even stronger when a rival is involved.
Last weekend at a freshman baseball game in Carmel, I felt a bit of that rush while coaching first base for the Balers. We certainly aren’t rivals with the Padres, as they are not in our league nor geographically close enough to be a North-South rival like Gilroy.
But when our team mounted a late-inning comeback and the pitcher’s dad didn’t like how vocal our bench was being in support of their teammates, he took it out on the closest Baler to him – me.
As we started to battle back against the pitcher and our players cheered every hit or non-strike thrown, they got appropriately loud. They weren’t yelling at the pitcher; they were yelling for the batter. Dad didn’t like it.
“Bush!” he yelled across the field in the direction of 14-year-olds who have no idea that the term is used to define unprofessional play. “That’s bush!”
He kept going and going as our team kept battling.
“That’s Little League! This isn’t softball!” he said through the cyclone fence in my direction. I did my best to ignore him, as letting an unruly fan know you can hear him only makes him louder.
“What kind of program are you running?” he continued as another runner reached first base. “Do you condone that?”
I didn’t want to have a conversation with him, but he was getting louder than the freshmen who were getting under his skin without even knowing it. Was he a frustrated former athlete? Perhaps – well, probably.
Carmel’s coaches or players had no issues with our cheering, as it was positive and acceptable. But Angry Dad just kept going.
Finally, after he kept chirping at me and asking if I was deaf because I wasn’t responding to him, I gave him what he wanted.
As if it were scripted, right after he yelled “Is that what your program teaches?” one of our players got a solid hit off this guy’s son. After the batter reached first base, I looked at Angry Dad and said in a calm voice, “No, that’s what we teach” and I guess it surprised him because the “bush” chants stopped.
Alas, we didn’t come all the way back and win in that game, but we did win the second game of the double-header and Angry Dad was not heard from again. The bounce-back victory was rewarding. Not as sweet as beating Palma or Gilroy, but sweet nonetheless.
