You may know that I love basketball.
You more likely know that, specifically, I love Memphis basketball, and that I'm incapable of joking about it with non-fans, not even a little bit, and that on more than one occasion people have been assaulted for lesser offenses.
You may also know that on Sunday, Memphis played my alma mater, Murray State, at home at the FedEx Forum. And I was there, along with Cristin (who also went to Murray), both of us decked out head-to-toe in Memphis gear (earrings included, CLEARLY).
Yes, I went to Murray State, and yes, I was pulling for Memphis. Many people have a hard time understanding this, especially given that I absolutely loved my college experience. I loved Murray, and the university and my sorority and any and all things Racers. I marched in the Racer Band, I edited The Murray State News, I WON AT COLLEGE. Every single year in October I will travel back to Murray and catch up with my sisters and go to a football game and cheer for the blue and gold and buy heaps of paraphernalia in the book store to announce to everyone who cares to know that I am a proud alumna of Murray State University.
But Sunday wasn't about that. The thing is, I was born a Tiger. Arguably, I was born because of the Tigers. I can't turn that off. I can't love something more than that. It's for life. In fact, the very idea of pulling for someone else against the Tigers makes me feel so uncomfortable that I'm not even going to entertain it any further here, for fear that even IMAGINING the possibility would inflict some type of Bambino-level curse on my boys and then they REALLY might never make a free throw again.
And all of that is why Sunday's game was just about the worst two-and-a-half hours I have ever passed inside the FedEx Forum. We played like rented rats. We showed up during the last 60 seconds of the game. The passing game was ugly, the ball handling was uglier and overall we were so sloppy that I was pretty certain my dad was finally right, and the Little Sisters of the Blind truly had shown up to play this game for us.
I spent almost the entirety of the second half (save the last 60 seconds, when they showed up large) slumped back in my seat. I didn't stand. I didn't yell. There wasn't any point. They deserved every terrible thing that happened because they played like idiots.
And unfortunately as the buzzer sounded and those last 60 seconds of unbelievable plays were (SHOCKING) just not enough to make up for 39 minutes of abysmal basketball, I knew that I would hate this loss far more than any other. Because I knew that for at least a good week I would get to field some variation of this question: "Don't you feel just a little bit proud since it was Murray State?"
Much like the Fresh Prince and Jazzy Jeff's parents, YOU JUST DON'T UNDERSTAND. I hate this conversation. I hated that game. I hated the loss. I do not hate Murray. I love Murray. But I hate that we embarrassed ourselves and I hate that this is probably an indication of what the rest of this season may be like.
And then, when whoever it is that asked this question is still very interested in learning why or how I can love Memphis more than Murray, my brain is already gone. To Saturday. And our next game. Against Louisville.
And my official, professional opinion on the matter is: FUCKBALLS.
cheers,
elizabeth
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