Jordan George
The Central Trend
Forest Hills Central HS
1st Place
Division 3, News Writing
Sports Columnist
I sprinted around my house like a madman, my brother screamed like a little girl, and my dad practically cried. So, what had happened to make my family feel this incredible surge of energy and emotion? It was not a job promotion, a marriage proposal, or major community announcement. We had not bought a new house, and school was not just let out for the summer. The Detroit Pistons had won the 2004 NBA Finals. My house, a city, and a state collectively exploded with emotion over something as simple as a sporting event. But why? Why does 10 tall guys throwing a round ball in an iron rim 1,000 miles away cause us to practically go insane? Because we are true, dedicated, knowledgeable, experienced, emotional fans. For anyone that is a true fan of any team, you know what I mean. Staying up late to watch games, memorizing every player’s stats and jersey number, and idolizing them as a kid shooting baskets on the driveway or throwing the football around the backyard. It is tough to explain this connection we feel with our teams, but there is one thing for sure: there are ups and downs to being a fan. Trust me, I would know.
I have been following the Pistons, Tigers, and Lions as long as I can remember, and was basically born into it. My dad had grown up transfixed by the likes of Isiah Thomas, Barry Sanders, and ‘Sweet Lou’ Whitaker. He often tells me of the long summer days in the suburbs of Detroit, when he and his friends would listen to the Tigers every day on the radio. The summer of 1986, the year he graduated high school, is his fondest memory.
He never fails to remind me that the Tigers started 35-5 that year, which is still the best start in major league baseball history, and eventually went to win the World Series. The child-like excitement that he shows when he recalls those memories exemplifies the power that being a fan has- it can take you back in time, to memories that you’ll cherish forever.
In high school, we are fans of two separate entities. For one, we continue to passionately follow our favorite pro and college sports teams. We watch the Lions every Sunday, watch the Tigers in the summer, and try to catch a Pistons game in the winter amongst the homework and studying. Some of us rejoiced when Michigan State won the Rose Bowl and the Cotton Bowl, while others celebrated Michigan hiring a new coach, Jim Harbaugh. Our child-like wonder remains. On the other hand, we also turn our attention to high school sports, the biggest being football. We pack the stands on Friday nights, but are cheering for something that we are directly associated with, not just fans of. We feel invested in these games because the team is standing for us, the students. No longer do we associate with a team because we like a certain player or coach, but we like the team because we are basically a fundamental part of it. If FHC football wins, FHC wins as a whole.
All of these teams draw support from the community as well, because the community of parents and other supporters feel a direct association with FHC. They feel like they are, in a way, part of the team. If the FHC hockey team beats East, FHC wins, the students win, and the community wins.
As for me, I am still waiting on my summer of ‘86. The Lions and Tigers are on the brink of greatness, and the Pistons are surprisingly decent after releasing Josh Smith. One of these days, I know that one of my teams will have a historic season that I can tell my kids about one day. Oakland Athletics general manager Billy Beane described my feelings about being a fan: “It’s hard not to be romantic about baseball.”
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I know, football is over covered. Countless newspaper articles, TV shows, and movies talk about Friday night football games. Heck, there was even a show called “Friday Night Lights.” What I want to talk about is not the bright lights, the touchdowns, the big crowds, or even the glory of high school football. I want to talk about 30 aluminum rectangles. Yes, as in aluminum the element, atomic number 13. I never truly realized the significance of those 30 aluminum rectangles until I took a step back and removed myself from them this past Friday and stood on the sideline of the field. I’m talking about the student section.
I understand, it’s cliché; however, I think the student section is pretty symbolic (here comes the nerdy writer side of me). Think about it. Two-hundred-fifty students, freshmen through seniors, all standing together with one common thread: Forest Hills Central. It is kind of crazy in a way. You have the sophomore girls that got in a big fight last year standing next to each other; the senior guys who don’t care that they are completely painted pink; a freshman girl who doesn’t know whether she should chant or not; and the juniors who are worrying about the ACT even though it is three months away. All of us, with our different struggles and situations, stand together in support of something as simple as guys in helmets fighting over a leather ball.
The question is, why do we do it? Why do we dress up in ridiculous outfits and chant “OOH AHH YOU WISH YOU WERE A RANGER!” until we can’t talk anymore? It might just be the fact that we humans are pack animals, or it might be that we just want to hang with our friends, but the best explanation that I can find is that we are PROUD to be Rangers. Why else would we do it? Because I know that we are not screaming our heads off just for fun… we must care.
So, we can all absolutely lose our minds every Friday at football games. We can paint ourselves pink, wear weird outfits, and stand next to that person whom you haven’t talked to since freshman year. My question is: where is the pride when we leave the pack of screaming people? Why is it that when we are talking about FHC it is often negative? This past Friday we were saying “You wish you were a Ranger.” I know that we hear all the time that we are lucky to go to such a good school, but it’s true. Why not take a little pride in it like it was a football game? We can’t be afraid to talk about FHC like it is a good thing… because to me, it is. That is my challenge to you: let’s be proud to be Rangers. Because in the end, my blood will always run green and white.