Five years ago, Mama and Papa Doc dropped me off on the second floor of Wilkeson Quad and suddenly, I was a Buffalo Bull.
Seriously, I had no choice. I was attending UB, so I was a Bull.
Funny how that works, isn't it? Your whole life you grow up liking a team because of a player, a coach or because your dad put a Yankees cap on you within five minutes of exiting the womb.
But when you go to college, you're a fan of that college, and not because you spent your whole life following Bulls football ?N and I hope none of you have been that unfortunate ?N but because you don't really have a choice. You're stuck there for four years (at least) so you might as well get used to it.
And any real sports fan will tell you that there's nothing quite like the bond you develop with your college sports teams because in a sense, it's the closest you'll ever get to being an athlete yourself. You take classes with the star point guard and eat lunch at the same place as the starting tailback. You head over to the football stadium in the fall because you wonder if maybe they'll pull it out today and you'll be able to say, "I was there when UB football won a game." You spend your winter nights pounding on the bleachers in Alumni Arena because somewhere inside you're convinced that the extra bit of noise made from your stomping helps Danny Hustle play better defense.
You bleed school colors and when they lose, you have this terrible, ugly feeling in the pit of your stomach. But when they win there's nothing quite like that feeling ?N nothing.
If you're lucky enough, then you'll be there for that real special moment that everyone who attends school after you looks back at the history books and wonders, "What was it like to be at the Pittsburgh game?"
Incredible.
And it was even better camping out the night before with some of the biggest die-had fans I've ever met in my life ?N and just like me they were dropped off at their freshman dorms and told, "You're a Bull, now."
Maybe someone in 20 years will ask some of them, "How loud was it during THE Kent State game?"
And everyone who was there will tell you that they never heard Alumni like that before or ever again ?N not the playoff games against Northern Illinois, not for the N.I.T., not even for the Ohio game the year after the "Tip-In."
In a decade, someone will wonder why hating Ohio is the thing to do, but I'll be able to tell him it's because when the rivalry started in my junior year, we were a little jealous of Jeremy Fears, Leon Williams and Tim O'Shea and a lot jealous of that Mid-American Conference title that should have been ours.
Before I came here, I had no idea about the college experience, the love-hate relationship that develops with you and your alma mater. My mom and dad never got the chance to have the prototypical college experience, so I never heard about their college days.
But I tell you what, when I'm going gray(er), I'll put my son on my lap and tell him about the times I traveled to Cleveland to watch UB in the MAC Championships. I'll tell him how nobody hit the runner like Turner and nobody, absolutely nobody, can throw a suit jacket like 'Spoon.' I'll show him my article from the Temple game, to show him that his dad was there when the Turner Gill era started.
I'll show him my faded UB hat that I've had since freshman year and when he asks what all the white and blue stuff is on the inside, I'll tell him how many times I painted my face and how there was this one guy who painted his whole body.
But mostly I'll tell him about how much I loved being a Bull ?N and I really did. I loved going to games and I loved arguing about it after. There's just something special about knowing that you'll only have this unique relationship for such a short time, and how amazing it is that it shines so strong even in the darkest of times (Thanks for those Hofher).
Truth be told, I wouldn't have traded my sporting experiences at UB for any other place or any other time in the world. I've witnessed some of the most memorable moments in the history of Buffalo athletics, and even if in 15 years no one asks me why Toledo sucks, or why I hate MAC refs, I'll still be able to know that for five years, I was a Bull.
