Those Things for Which I Am Thankful: The Sports Edition

For me, like most others, Thanksgiving is a time of reflection on the many things for which I am grateful.  Typically, my list does not include any sports-related items.  I guess it struck me as trivial, even superficial, to include them.  This Thanksgiving, however, I was struck, like a ton of bricks, by a competing revelation.  In addition to time spent with family and friends, the gluttonous indulgence of grandma’s classics and, of course, Black Friday, I realized just how far sports have come in forming an important pillar in the foundation of the modern Thanksgiving holiday.

NFL games have long been a staple of the Thanksgiving Day diet, providing a much needed reprieve from the uncomfortable political ramblings emanating from your slightly over-served uncle.  Now, joining the NFL, college football’s “rivalry week” provides some of the best games of the year boasting huge playoff/bowl implications.  Not to be outdone, college basketball kicks off its season in grand fashion with holiday tournaments stretching from Maui to New York City.   The NBA and NHL march on.

Even during holidays, for better or worse, right or wrong, sports play an outsized role in our society.  Sports provide levity to an otherwise heavy world; they are an escape from the chaos with which we are surrounded.  This reality is not trivial.  Indeed, it is profound.  Mired in an election cycle that has seen political correctness thrown out the window, I, too, will throw caution to the wind.  With this as the backdrop, and the afterglow of Thanksgiving still intact, I began to think of those things in sports for which I am thankful.  What follows is but a few.

Underdogs.  Like all unexpected gifts in life, they are the best ones.  Upsets are the lynchpin of sports.  The bigger the better.  Without them, why play the games?

Golf.  After playing on my high school golf team and throughout college, I see the links far too infrequently these days.  But when I do, I am still mesmerized by the oneness with nature.  If you listen closely, the gentle gurgling of a brook, a blue jay’s vibrant song or the whistling wind through the tall Carolina pines all have a story to tell.  Serenity at its finest.  This feeling is only surpassed by that felt as a 15 foot putt loses steam just in time to fall unhurriedly over the lip of the cup.  No better feeling in sports.

The Masters.  That annual reminder that spring has sprung, evidenced by the sprawling dogwoods and the brilliance of the bright pink and purple azaleas.  The physical beauty is only matched by the greatness of those men, past and present, who stroll the fairways.  It is that magnificent tournament where the past whispers in your ear while, at the same time, new history is being made around every corner.  Amen, that is.

Basketball.  There is nothing quite like the jarring sound of a basketball echoing loudly in an otherwise empty gym each time it smashes against the unforgiving hardwood.  It is that sound, and the memory it produces, that is most reachable from my childhood, leaving an indelible imprint on my very soul, and is, for me, as reassuring as mom’s Sunday dinner.  Growing up in North Carolina, ACC Country, the crescendo of fall meant the genesis of yet another season of college basketball.  This time of year, the anticipation and hope is palpable along Tobacco Road, begging the all-encompassing question: what will the cold winter nights ahead have in store for our beloved schools along this route?  Like a cherished blanket, we can always count on ACC hoops to warm the way.

Dean Smith.  This year, especially, I am grateful for Dean Smith, and for having had the chance to see so many of his teams up close.  Watching Coach Smith lead his team in a game was like watching a great conductor direct his orchestra.  Precision.  Composure.  Incredible power, yet supreme control.  Coach Smith’s teams seemed to be just that – a team – moving together as if on a string, of which Smith was the master puppeteer.  But above all this, there was a grace, humility and poignancy to his leadership that seemed to command the utmost respect from his players.  Gentleman, through and through.  Rest in peace, coach.

Charlotte Hornets.  I grew up going to Hornets games when the main attractions ranged from Muggsy, Grandmama (Larry Johnson) and Zo to Baron, Glen Rice and Vlade.  Hopping in the truck and heading to The Hive, stopping at Wendy’s for burgers along the way, were always special nights for dad and me.  Little known secret: when I was young, I used to lock myself in my room and pretend to coach during Hornets games.  I guess I was at different times Gene Littles, Allen Bristow or Dave Cowens.  Glad I grew out of that phase.  After a brief, and awkward, stint as the Bobcats, Charlotte is the Hornets again, as it should be.  Thank you, New Orleans.  This version provides excitement of its own – Kemba’s slick handles, Big Al’s throwback post moves, Nic Batum’s versatility (I call him the rich man’s Boris Diaw), Jeremy Lin’s hair, to name a few.  Head coach Steve Clifford is a true gem, if a largely unknown one.  I am thankful that Michael Jordan dusted off his wallet to keep Cliff off the free agent market this summer.  Good move.

Steph Curry.  I remember Steph as a wee little lad running around the sidelines at Hornets games when his dad, Dell, was our lethal sharpshooter.  Of course, Steph has taken that term to a different level – ok, a new stratosphere.  Watching Steph grow up in Charlotte and star at Davidson, I never dreamt he would climb to the astronomical heights to which he has already ascended.  For us East Coasters, he makes staying up late to catch Warriors games worth the lost shut eye.  He is on lease to Golden State for now, but he will always be ours.

Serena.  Like Bono, Shaq and Oprah, one name suffices.  Even though she was unable to turn the Serena Slam into a Grand One, she remains the most intriguing tennis player of our time, man or woman.  Sorry, Novak.

Tennis.  The one sport I have left.  If we’re talking doubles, I play it as well as I ever have.  On the tennis court, I am Benjamin Button – getting younger with age.  I intend to enjoy it until someone rudely wakes me from this improbable dream.

College Football.  The pageantry, pomp and circumstance which capture our collective imaginations on crisp Saturday afternoons.  The dueling bands, flying cheerleaders, and a stadium filled with people who have come to see something wonderful – standing, waiting, yearning for kickoff.  Tailgating with friends, a football and your favorite brew must be proof that God exists.

NFL.  The NFL is as good as its ratings suggest; Sunday afternoons without it seem somehow lacking.

Carolina Panthers.  I have been thankful every year, since 1996, good times and bad, that the Carolinas have a team for whom to root.  I imagine I can count on one hand the games I have missed in these 20 years.  This year, of course, is different – not only due to their being a perfect 12-0, but because they play the right way.  Not surprisingly, they are led by good men, a group highlighted by Ron Rivera, Luke Kuechly, Thomas Davis and Greg Olsen.  Hard to go wrong.

Cam Newton.  No, I am not forgetting our dancing leader.  His good work this year merits its own bullet point.  He is that colorful personality that you love if he is on your team, but despise if he is not.  I am thankful he is on my team.  Putting aside his obvious talent, I most admire the child-like enthusiasm with which he plays, his ritual of giving touchdown balls to Carolina-clad kids, and the ease with which he plays the game.  As he would say, simple and plain.

Little League.  I am not a huge baseball fan, but Little League represents the game at its purest.  What’s best, each one of the bright-eyed kids with a mouth full of braces fervently believes that he (or she) will be the next Bryce Harper.  The fun part is they might be right.

4Pack.  Over a decade removed from college, three of my closest college buddies and myself have a group text (or channel, as we call it) which we label the “4Pack.”  When one of us sends a text on that thread, those words are prominently displayed on our iPhone screens.  I would surmise that 95% of the chatter on this channel is sports-related, and approximately 50% is related particularly to the North Carolina State Wolfpack, our alma mater.  To me, this represents the power of sports.  At its best, it can be the glue that holds together four friends – who live in four different states and lead completely different lives – over ten years after graduation.  In the grand scheme of things, it does not matter whether we win a particular game.  What matters is the camaraderie, that we experienced it together.  For this, I am truly thankful.

With Thanksgiving safely in the rear view mirror, and now standing at the advent of yet another holiday season, enjoy this wonderful time of year, and give thanks for the blessing of sports which make it even better.  Peace.