The Perpetual Hope of Next Year

In my short 25 years I feel like I've experienced a lot. I mean my family moved all over the country. I've been able to meet people from all walks of life. I've attended big city schools, and small farm-town schools. Regardless of these different experiences or the quality of education, I would have an extremely hard time finding anything that has had the same meaning or impact on my life as sports. Aside from my parents, sports have taught me more about life and how to live than any book, or teacher, or class has been able to teach. This probably isn't true for everybody. I'm sure there are kids out there that hate sports and feel like sports ruined their lives, either because their not very good at them, or because they plain just don't like them.

Sports have always been extremely important to me. First of all, they are really fun. Fun is important in my life. Also, sports provide an atmosphere where learning takes place, even though the intended outcome isn't necessarily academic. Some important lessons I've learned through sports are: teamwork, honesty, hard work, losing, winning, responsibility, overcoming adversity, character, and many other things. What I'd like to discuss today is a lesson that traverses the world of sports and, like many of the items on that list, should be applied to all aspects of life. I'm sure what I'm about to say is completely subjective to how I'm feeling right now, but I feel like the most important lesson sports teach is the lesson of hope.

That's why we play the games isn't it? Because we hope the amount of work we've put into the game, both with physical training and mental preparation, will be enough to overcome the amount of preparation the opponent has exerted. Sometimes we're David and sometimes we're Goliath. (Which brings me to another lesson I've learned playing sports...It's awesome when David takes down Goliath, but usually Goliath beats the hell out of David.) Regardless of our situation, we always play with at least a glimmer of hope that we can win.

Following professional sports is fun, yet amazingly difficult. I personally tend to study numbers and statistics and talk myself into how the Utah Jazz or any other team I'm cheering for can destroy their obviously superior opponent. I fell into that pattern this year in the NBA playoffs. I ignored the fact that Utah had lost to lottery bound teams like Minnesota (another personal Fav) and Golden State. I convinced myself they could pull-off an upset over mighty Los Angeles. This hope was somewhat vindicated when D-Will hit that awesome fadeaway to put the Lakers away in game 3. Unfortunately with these highest of highs come the lowest of lows. With all my predictions falling into place after a game 3 victory by Utah, my hope was decimated by a crushing defeat. I mean game four wasn't even close. Los Angeles led by 26 and was never really threatened in the second half. David had sprained his ankle on the way out to fight Goliath and he was now a bloody mess in the middle of the battle field.

So I did the only thing a self-respecting Jazz fan would do. I called the season over and began my mental preparations for the offseason. Basically I tucked my tail between my legs, turned and ran as fast as I could. Don't you think that's what the army of Judah would have done if the real Goliath beat the real David? So don't judge me.

However, the unexpected happened. No, the Jazz didn't win the game. That wouldn't be unexpected, that would be the impossible. With a little over eight minutes remaining in game 5, with the Lakers holding a commanding 20+ point lead. The Jazz starters checked out and Jerry Sloan emptied his bench. Ronnie Price, a modern day David, who had played all of 49 seconds (at least that's what it seemed like) all season long, led the comeback charge. While five of my friends and myself were wallowing in our self-pity, griping about bad coaching decisions, and discussing the fate of our free agents, this little guy came into the game and won our hearts. Ronnie Price gave us what we most desperately needed. He gave us hope. Like Andy Dufresne says (Sorry Sports Guy, I'm not trying to steal your thunder with a Shawshank Quote) "Hope is a good thing."

In a matter of minutes six grown men went from complaining like a five year old that doesn't get as many cookies as his older brother, to screaming, hollering, and jumping up and down (on the third floor by the way) at midnight. We went from the complaining version of five year old kids to the happy version of five year old kids. The Jazz were only down by 6!!! The mood change was phenomenal. We were a part of this. We stuck through the crappy season, lost to injuries, we withstood the sportswriters writing us off, we handled the skeptics. Even when we lost hope, we came back for more. We knew game five would be the end of our season, but that didn't stop us from partaking of the glorious goodness of basketball just one more time.

Ronnie Price is responsible for the reinstatement of hope. Thank you Ronnie. Thank you for loving the game. Thank you for your attitude. Thank you for your example. Thank you sports. Your life-long lessons yield wisdom to those who look for it.

Even though the Jazz didn't win, Ronnie showed us that the NBA truly is where Amazing happens.

I can't wait til next year. The Jazz are gonna go all the way!!!