Repentant football cynic realizes error of his ways

So they made me write a column. I escaped for half a year, but they found me anyway, huddled behind a couch in the Thresher office. They sat me at a desk, gave me a keyboard, mouse, monitor and the rest, and demanded 700 words on football. Rice football? What? I took a nap.

I first “encountered” Rice football as a high school senior. I had driven to Rice for my application interview, which was scheduled for the sure-to-be-busy homecoming weekend. As my Saturday appointment concluded, I asked the student interviewer, a senior, if he thought I should attend the game that day. He responded to my hopeful question with a blank stare and a memorable, “Game? What game?”

At the time I wasn’t worried. I mean, sure, an hour up the road at Texas A&M roughly 80,000 people in maroon were packing Kyle Field, but this was Rice — there were exceptions to the fan base. I figured I had just encountered one of those people who had no interest in either football or athletics as a whole.

A year later, however, I experienced the awful truth for myself. During our one-win season, I found myself awash in the all-encompassing campus-wide apathy and cynicism surrounding Rice football. My friends and I blamed Ken Hatfield, talked longingly of baseball season and wondered if and when Rice’s alleged Cotton Bowl “victories” really took place.

It only got worse after the season ended, especially when someone told me about the UCLA-Texas-Florida State hit parade headlining next year’s schedule. Who can possibly remain excited about a season that everyone in the country predicts will start with three straight losses? The coaches? The players? The fans? I decided not to think about it.

However, this column forced me to face my football misery. And my nap, like most naps do, helped me to see the proverbial tunnel-ending light. After my snooze, I woke up a born-again believer, and after reading the news briefs on the new staff, I was only more convinced of a forthcoming change in the wind. Anyone who has read Todd Graham’s list of turnaround accomplishments knows Rice football fortunes can change. Anyone who stabbed at a voodoo doll of Mack Brown when he benched Major Applewhite knows Rice football fortunes will change.

These are the men and the times Rice should concern itself with now. I applaud Hatfield and his staff for the hard seasons they coached, and the players for giving him their best, but right now I have a dream of the future — a dream of rediscovered glory and transformation.

Maybe someday Rice fans will fill the stadium to more than five percent capacity. Maybe someday I’ll never hear any more jokes from the opponent’s fans about the number of Rice punts exceeding the number of Rice points. Maybe someday consistent winning seasons, bowl appearances and national respect will be commonplace, and the concern of this column will be insignificant.

Now, more than ever, those dreams seem alive and viable, but that’s all for much later. All I hope for the immediate future is one new season with a new outlook, a revitalization of a storied program: a few more fans, a little more support, a little less wailing and grinding of teeth. All Rice needs is some faith in a new generation of football. That and a framed game schedule in the Admissions Office.

Dylan Farmer is a Hanszen College freshman and assistant sports editor

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