Tuesday, December 1, 2009

Griz Football and the GOP

It isn’t often that I get the opportunity to indulge two of my great passions, politics and football.

Today I had the great pleasure of attending the first playoff game for our beloved Montana Grizzlies in their hunt for another FBS national championship; and in attending the game came away with a reflection on the state of our current affairs within our Republican party.

You see, the game didn’t start very well. Our football team was expected to handle their opponents, the South Dakota State Jackrabbits, with relative ease. Someone from the Grizzlies camp forgot to tell the Jackrabbits that they were doomed from the start. Instead of a “wimpy wabbit,” the home team found themselves in a flatfooted attempt to halt a small, agile and adept opponent who came to Montana with one purpose in mind; to beat their opponent and leave nothing on the field. Nothing.

The first quarter began as all games do; a cheer for the home team, a cheer for the visitors, skydivers and the flag of our country. The home team and their throng of fans found themselves mildly annoyed as the visitors struck first, scoring easily. A few folks in my section cheered the Grizzlies and told them “it’s gonna be okay, next possession we’ll score!”

But nothing worked. Running, throwing, blocking; all seemed ineffective against those perfidious Jackrabbits. At the end of the first quarter, our beloved team was down by two touchdowns and nothing that could be mustered by the coach or team seemed to work. About this time I started paying as much time to the people around me as I did the game on the field.

People who had come to the game expecting easy glory were becoming frustrated and progressively bitter.
“Blame the refs!” Said some. And many others agreed. It must be the officials; they are making bad calls!

The second quarter started and to the stunned amazement of many, the Jackrabbits continued their thumping of “our” boys. Big plays were made by this undersized, overrated crew from a plains state that no official could misinterpret. Everyone in the stadium expected to hear the call, “Touch Down!” But we all expected to hear it called for our team!

Our boys managed to find some footing, but the scoreboard does not lie. At halftime, the score was 34-14. The crowd had gone from frustrated to angry. Someone held up a sign calling for the coach to be fired and many cheered.

“What is the matter with these boys?” some people called. One fellow sitting behind me said that he’d “sure be enjoying this game a lot more if the score were reversed.”

In the minutes leading into half time, the tone of the crowd soured from angry to boisterously chaotic. Phrases not suitable for sailors in a bar were flying across the stadium. The frustration and anger were manifest in the number of people who were packing up and leaving.

“No way can these boys come back from this” said a few people angrily as they headed back to the parking lot. The angry crowd that remained continued to behave poorly and contribute to the inflammatory rhetoric that comes when people lose direction and hope at the same time.

Half time. Tension was thick. Fans milled aimlessly around the public areas around the stadium. All of them asking the same questions: What is happening to our team? Why can’t we get anything done? Is it true? Is it the Coach? Is it the Quarterback? Do we really belong in this race for the championship?

Some people left. Some stayed and angrily held court that the problems were many and the solutions simple. Fire the coach. Recruit from out of state. Stop recruiting from out of state. Rework the offense. Rework the defense. All having opinions, but none offering anything constructive.

I left this gathering and went back to my seat in that cold stadium. I noticed there a large number of people, all swaddled against the chill air blowing in from the west. As I passed them, the only statement I heard that made any sense to me at that point: “It’s only half time.”

“We have gone through worse together and if we are going to come through this or not, it will be decided in the second half.”

One older lady, sitting to my left leaned toward me and said, “I wish I was a fly on the wall in that locker room. I bet the coach is really working those boys.”

Halftime ended and the crowd milled back in, far fewer than before and quite a few of them trailing in their own storm clouds as they marched, heads down, back to their seats.

The Jackrabbits blocked a kick and in no time had another touchdown. The crowd let out a collective moan as those varmints from South Dakota drove what seemed to be a stake into the very heart of the Griz. The grumbling of the first half turned into a lamentation. The naysayers were in froth and the quietly determined among us were actually beginning to think that the outcome of this game was a foregone conclusion, that a twenty-seven point deficit was too much for the Grizzlies to overcome. There was talk around me of “next year” and “shame to see the seniors done in such a manner.”

Our boys did seem to find some footing in that third quarter. Doing their best, they scored a touchdown and the defense seemed to spring off the bench with as much energy as before, but no one in the stands would have been surprised had they thrown in the towel.

Much like many of the fans had already done.

But the crowd in the stands does not dictate the course of the game. Even though we had all but given up, one person did not plan on turning over so easily.

One player on the Grizzly team, a senior and a player of uncommon talent, made it clear that even though the game seemed over, he had other ideas. After their latest score the Jackrabbits kicked off and the ball landed into the hands of this one player, he of indomitable spirit and determination. A few moments later, touchdown Griz! The crowd erupted in cheers and the pent up fear and frustration at the total domination by the opponent seemed lessened. We all enjoyed the moment but the naysayers were at it again.

“It’d have been nice if he could have done that in the first half!” One roughneck hollered across our section.

As I mentioned before the crowd never dictates what is happening on the field of play. While we all enjoyed this play, it was the effect of the attitude and the results on our team that was of utmost importance. The third quarter came to an end and our team was still down by twenty seven points; as many points as the team from Montana had scored in the previous three quarters.

Again, the naysayers were at it again with their computations and calculations that “even if” the team went on a scoring drive, they couldn’t make up the deficit in time. The group using the foul language got shouted down by someone’s great aunt and exhorted to clean up their acts or “take a powder”, more cheers to that. A group of flask sipping pundits whose sole contribution to the day had been to vilify the coaches was routed out by the security staff and got to finish their big day in Missoula with an escort off the property and a ticket for their scrapbooks. All the while, something extraordinary was happening on the field.

Starting the fourth quarter down 48-27, the same person who forgot to tell the Jackrabbits that they were supposed to lose gracefully forgot to tell the Griz that it was okay to give up or quit.

Four seconds into the fourth quarter and the Griz scored another touchdown! The crowd erupts into a happy frenzy. People who have sat through the balance of their game are now on their feet, clapping and stopping and yelling for the Griz to do it again.

Football is a game of offense and defense and up until this point, both sides had been unproductive. But this moment was different. It is hard to describe an event as it unfolds, but we have all seen someone who has decided for themselves that it is time for a change and if this change is to be accomplished, it will be up to them. The Griz defense bounced onto the field looking fresh and displaying an energy that was tangible to the entire stadium, the message they sent to their opponents and the rest of the stadium was simple: “It changes right here and right now. You will not pass by us again.” They were true to their word.

The offense that the Jackrabbits had used to such devastating effect in the previous forty-five minutes was useless. Each pass was swatted down. Each run was stopped, and the Jackrabbit quarterback made some new friends in the backfield. The maroon jerseyed boys who had been playing before had turned into young Men and were doing a Man’s job in defending their field against a dedicated adversary.

The Jackrabbits had to concede the drive and punt the ball back into the hands of an offense that was ready to correct the previous mistakes of the previous fifty four minutes. Play after play the Griz advanced; nothing too fancy, one first down after another. With seven minutes left to play the Griz punch it in for another touchdown! Now the score is 48-41 and the Grizzlies are within one score of tying the game. The entire crowd at this point is on its feet; people who left the stadium are hastily trying to get back to their seats; cell phones are out and people are calling friends to tell them to stop what they are doing and turn on the television because something is happening and they need to be part of it.

Again the defense is on the field. They know that the chances of them doing what had been deemed impossible a few minutes beforehand, winning, is in their hands. A Jackrabbit score will likely put the Grizzlies out of reach of what each young man in maroon and silver knows that their fate lies within their actions.

Three and out. The Jackrabbits are counting Grizzly defenders because it seems like there are fourteen or more of these maroon clad devils pulling them to the ground and forcing them to once again turn over the ball.

Five minutes left and the Grizzlies are down 48-41. The crowd is not just on their feet, they are stomping and howling; dancing and clapping like a horde of banshees released for a pagan rite of fall. It is exciting and uplifting in a way that a tent revival can only aspire to be. One minute and nineteen seconds of flawless execution and the Grizzlies of Montana have tied the game. Pandemonium. Havoc. Chaos. All words that can only partially describe what is happening in the stands. The emotional component of this event is powerful in a way that only those of us who were there can fully understand. But while a happy anarchy reigns in the stands, a moment of quiet remains on the field for the job is not done. A tie is not a win and an opponent is not defeated with time left on the clock. The Grizzlies smell a chance at victory, but that victory remains in the hands of the Jackrabbits. They will have a say in the matter and regardless of the improbable or unlikely, they will have their say in who wins this game or not.

The Jackrabbits offense takes the field and every person on the field and in the stands knows what will happen if the Jackrabbits can either score or run down the clock. The Grizzly defense is ready. The Jackrabbits are also ready. The visitors throw for a first down and the crowd, as one voice, moans. The Grizzly defense shakes it off and dares them to do it again. The dare is never honored.

The Jackrabbits are swarmed by a Grizzly defense uncaring of physical limits or the thought of pain and personal suffering. Like a group of warrior poets they fight like the Scots at Bannockburn and swarm the hapless Jackrabbits. With just over two minutes left in the game, the Grizzlies have the ball and the possibility of victory in their reach. It seems completely appropriate that the young man who sparked the drive to come back from overwhelming odds should step up again and be a part of what happens next. After the Grizzlies drive again toward the end zone, their quarterback completes a pass to that same young man. Touchdown, the Grizzlies are ahead 55 to 48.

What has happened to the crowd during all of this? What was once a discordant group of hopeful fans, naysayers and tagalongs has become a cohesive group. Every thought and breath synchronized, as if the slightest deviation from the desires of the group could dispel the miracle we are experiencing. With that go ahead score, the crowd lets fly with a whoop and chorus that the angels in heaven and all points in between can hear and feel. The Grizzlies have battled back!
But wait. There is a minutes left in the game and the Jackrabbits are assuredly not going to give up! They get good field position after the kickoff and start the drive toward the end zone. I hear from voices in the stands around offering not so silent prayers, I don’t look to see who voices these exhortations to the almighty because I don’t want to take my eyes off of the field. It is as if by the force of will from nineteen thousand people that the Grizzlies have done this, this exhibit of grit and determination. I don’t take my eyes off the play and I am rewarded for this effort. The Jackrabbit quarterback drops back two steps and passes; one Grizzly defender swats the ball with his hands DIRECTLY INTO THE HANDS OF ANOTHER GRIZZLY DEFENDER. That player does his own imitation of a jackrabbit and scampers into the end zone, Touchdown Grizzlies!

The game is done. The young men of the Montana Grizzly football team have accomplished what is already being hailed as the greatest come from behind victory in school history and some say it ranks with the Fiesta Bowl victory of Boise State over Oklahoma a few years ago as one of the greatest football games ever played.

How does this story combine football and politics? Metaphor, of course. What I saw on Saturday reminds me of the problems we have been having within our Grand Old Party.

We have a determined opponent who is currently ahead on the scoreboard. We have some fair weather fans that are either heading for the parking lot or are watching from home, rather than buy a ticket and sitting in the cold wind with the rest of us. We have a lot of naysayers who don’t really seem to like the team and would rather stir up trouble by tearing down the coaches and players than be a part of the solution.

Among those naysayers are cantankerous louts who view the political process as an activity where they see how many people they can offend or drive away from the “game” before responsible parties take their bottles, whiskey or milk, away from them and ask them to leave.

This game on Saturday was a microcosm of the process that impacts all of our lives and some people take being a fan seriously. Some people are involved in the game. Some people come to just tailgate and have a fun time. Others come to drink all of our beer and then tell us how we are grilling the burgers all wrong and then some people just turn on the television and root for the home team. You might expect me to vilify some or all of these types of people and I will not do that because we are all one big party. We want the same team to win and we go about the process of being a “fan” differently, but in the end, we all need to learn a lesson from that wise older lady sitting in the stands, “it’s just halftime, the game isn’t over yet.”

We have elections coming up in the next year and it looks as though our adversaries are looking forward to finishing the second half by letting us tear ourselves apart from the inside out. We have a lot of naysayers and people who don’t seem to like our party trying to tell us how to “grill our burgers.” We need to come together as committed “fans” of the GOP. If that fails, then we’ll lose this game. If the naysayers don’t like the way the “coaches” and “players” are doing anything or everything, they are welcome to “try out” for the team and see if they can do any better or they can find a new team to root for and support. Either way they will have to learn maturity, learn how to play by the rules of the game and how to play as a member of a team.

Failing that, we might lose this game but there will always be another field on another day and I hope to be part of the winning team on that day and many others.

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