Tuesday was a big night for Dartmouth. As I meandered across the Green, I could feel the buzz emanating from the Bloomberg stage, the assorted news vans and Michele Bachmann's tour bus. Whether you were a Democrat, a Republican or even a reasonable person preferring to stay above the oftentimes-juvenile poop flinging that is primary-election season, you got that feeling.
Dartmouth was the center of attention. And it felt good to be in the spotlight.
There is a distinct possibility that the next president of the United States was only yards away from you yesterday as you walked around campus, saw the candidates speak in Leede Arena or were lucky enough to snag a seat to the actual debate. That's not something to be taken lightly. If it turns out that a Republican candidate is able to win the presidency, deliver on job-creation promises and make significant progress towards pulling the country out of an economic abyss, you'll want to tell your grandkids that you were a close witness to his or her road to the White House. If you worked or volunteered in any greater capacity, you can even claim you made a contributing difference. Now that's patriotism.
There have been very few times during my life when I've been aware that something bigger than me was happening. Typically it catches you off guard. You instantly become aware that you're part of something monumental, and all you can do is hold on for the ride.
Another GOP debate won't happen in Hanover again for who knows how long. Events of such scale and scope rarely grant such close access to students who are in college. But that doesn't mean there won't be other opportunities to revel in great collective moments.
Being a sports fan is one of my biggest passions. I don't understand people who can't associate themselves with a team that is either from their hometown or relates to their family in some way. Aside from the fact that the person might not be interested in sports, it projects cowardice, a lack of faith and most of all an inherent fear of failing.
When I meet a person who has undying loyalty for a sports team, they immediately display a romantic idealism that, in my opinion, is one of the most admirable traits somebody can have. They have the courage to leave their fate to forces beyond their control. It's a recklessness innately tied to a complete disregard for one's own vulnerability. And if you ask me, that's pretty bad ass.
Every year around this time, I deal with the Yankees teasing my heartstrings as they either triumph or completely capitulate in the playoffs. When they lost last week, I was genuinely upset and a little depressed. But what they put me through actually makes their occasional triumphs more meaningful. And when I'm privy enough to witness one of these in person, I feel like I'm actually part of it.
In 1978, my dad sat in the bleachers at Fenway Park when the light-hitting Bucky Dent slammed a three-run home run off of Mike Torres, propelling the Yankees into the playoffs in a one-game matchup against the Red Sox. My dad has endured years of rooting for mediocre Yankee teams after that (see all of the 1980s and half of the 1990s), but he never waivers in his dedication or loyalty. The latter half of the 1990s and first decade of the 2000s treated him to several moments of ecstasy (and many of agony). But when he called me from Yankee Stadium two years ago after the Bombers won their first World Series in nearly a decade, I could detect the raw emotion in his voice. That boyhood excitement was still there.
The basic lack we confront as fans here as Dartmouth is our unwillingness to be let down. We don't see it as worth it to subject ourselves to emotional trauma if we don't have to. For many of us, this is a fine excuse. Many Dartmouth experiences will never be defined or compromised by athletic success there are other priorities that weigh more heavily. But for the hundreds of student-athletes and the fans who support them, a little unbridled loyalty can go a long way.
I'm not saying everyone must be a die-hard fan, but we should genuinely show interest in how our Dartmouth teams fare. We should relish every moment of triumph as a tiny little moment in the spotlight given, on a far less grand and glamorous scale than Tuesday's GOP debate. Greatness can happen in the most unsuspecting moments, and you'll want to be part of the collective triumph when it does. You just have to buy in beforehand.
