And now the pitcher holds the ball, and now he lets it go,
And now the air is shattered by the force of Casey’s blow. Oh, somewhere in this favoured land the sun is shining bright,
The band is playing somewhere, and somewhere hearts are light;
And somewhere men are laughing, and somewhere children shout,
But there is no joy in Mudville—mighty Casey has struck out.
——-Earnest Lawrence Thayer
I know that I should be content that my University of Houston Cougars made it to the championship basketball game. They were among an elite group of teams who edged forward game by game until there were only two teams vying for the national title. Just being there should have been enough for me but my history of being a Cougar fan is more complicated than a single moment or a single game. The loss to Florida in the final moments brought back memories that have cursed me for decades.
It was nineteen eighty-two and I was about to finish my decree after pausing to take care of my mother who had battled mental illness. My resolve to get back to school had stalled when my husband developed a rare fungal disease that put him in the hospital for months undergoing chemotherapy. In the meantime I had been blessed with two little girls who vied for much of my time. Eventually the challenges that had pulled me out of the university had subsided and I had returned to complete my degree. It was all about to come to fruition.
There was another legendary University of Houston team that garnered the nickname Phi Slamma Jamma. Guy Lewis was the coach and star players like Akeem the Dream Olajuwon and Clyde the Glide Drexler were heading for the final game in the March Madness marathon. I was even in a course with Clyde and had worked on a group project with him. Hakeem would meet Clyde after class and I often walked behind them as I rushed to an English class in another building far away on campus. Ironically I was so focused on completing my studies that I did not associate those two with the jubilation that had infected the entire student body. i only knew that my group had received a failing grade on our presentation because Clyde had not shown up on our appointed day.
When I complained to my husband he laughed and asked if the Clyde of my group happened to have the last name of Drexler. When I nodded he laughed and told me that Clyde was busy winning basketball games and moving into the finals. it all made sense when I though of how tall and powerful he looked. I was suddenly forgiving and understanding even as I nursed my disappointment in receiving the first failing grade of my university career.
I was incredibly busy attempting to complete the courses required of my major. I was reading and writing papers and studying for exams with not a moment to fritter away. i was also responsible for the care and nurturing of my daughters and the main keeper of my home. When the final game came I had to keep to my unforgiving routines while my husband watched in the back of the house in our den.
At the very end of the contest he called me anxiously announcing that I had to watch the final moments as it seemed certain the University of Houston and its Dream Team was going to win. I raced to cheer them on and just as I entered Hakeem missed a throw. My Cougars had lost. Me and my husband were stunned and I forevermore became synonymous with being a jinx.
It all ended well for me despite my unrelenting disappointment. Clyde returned to class and the teacher realized that she had made a terrible mistake. We received an A for our project and not long after that I graduated and began my career in education.
Of course a lifetime passed. I spent over forty years as a teacher and administrator. I earned a Masters’ degree from the University of Houston and my children grew up and left home. I finally retired and began tutoring and taking care of my elderly father-in-law. A new group of talented basketball players from the university fought their way to a spot in the final game. Once again the lure of a national championship seemed possible but in case my jinx was real everyone begged me to stay away from watching the game and so I did.
Of course our mighty team lost once again in the final moments. I did not see this and I was not the jinx but I still felt a bitter disappointment. It was difficult to believe that this had happened once again and unlike most I was not simply content that the team had lost. I selfishly wanted more for them. There was no joy in Houston and no joy in my home. I guess we have to wait until next time and hope that we finally get the gold. I hope get to see that because there is no fun in losing and I always think of Mudville when we do.
All It Takes Is A Little Love 