Hundreds and thousands of miles from our respective homes — separated from friends, families, neighborhoods and often nations —how do we remember who we were when we got here?
It’s true that many of us choose to throw our first eighteen years out the window and start over drunker, thinner, blonder, or dumber. But the rest of us face a real challenge.
I thought about this as I sat in Citizens Bank Park in South Philadelphia on Saturday watching the man I love most in this world, Jimmy Rollins, stretch further than anatomically possible to start The Double Play and send my Philadelphia Phillies into the playoffs. In that instant, absolutely everything was perfect.
I know that many of you have experienced that same feeling in your time at Penn.
I remember talking with a friend as the Giants won the Super Bowl last semester. Everything was perfect, except that no one would drink with him on a Sunday. I remember bickering with the Colorado Rockies fans in my Spanish class every morning last fall as their team systematically destroyed my Phillies in last year’s post-season (laugh now, ye of the .457 winning percentage). Everything was perfect for them, too. And I remember the thousands of “fans” who suddenly cropped up last October as the Red Sox won their second World Series in four years. I think they’re all psychotic, but for them, too, everything was perfect.
Worlds away from our homes, we do things to celebrate our identities. It is my observation that many folks go from lukewarm fandom to passionately obsessed in their transition to college. Sure, some of us hang flags and photos, join cultural groups, or pretend to have foreign accents, but often the most visible way someone represents who they are and where they come from is by sport. We learn about someone based on who they root for and against, whose jersey they wear on Sundays, and the muscle-bound men they’d give their firstborn to.
Sports are unique in that we can have our funnelcake and eat it, too. They remind us of home and fond memories. But we can celebrate and compete here, too. At a point in our lives in which school, home, internships, and other commitments leave us constantly traveling, sports are our constant. Our teams give us something to call our own wherever we may be.
And so Philadelphians my age scattered all over can proudly say: National League East champs. ENJOY WATCHING FROM HOME, JOSE REYES.
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October 3rd, 2008 at 12:38 pm
I consider my Phillies fandom to be a major part of my identity. It says I love baseball and I love Philadelphia, and these two things say much more about me besides. I wear that red hat very intentionally.
I watched the game yesterday (yeah Victorino!) because it’s fun and exciting, but also because it’s kind of my duty.