Oh, the things I've seen in four years.
I don't think I'll ever forget the thrill of watching the Duck Boats parade down the streets of Boston, lined by screaming fans, celebrating the continuation of the Patriots' dynasty. I'll never forget the pure misery of the Red Sox losing Game 7 in 2003. Many a trash can suffered at my hand that night, and I almost came to tears the next morning when I realized the loss wasn't just a bad dream.
But nothing could compare to the euphoria of 2004, embracing friends as the Red Sox finally recorded the last out of their first World Series victory in 86 long years. Some thought the Sox would lose what made them special, no longer having claim to loveable underdog status. But we fans got by just fine.
To be a Boston sports fan in this area during these last four years was something special. For those of us who grew up with stories of the magical days of Boston in the 1980s, the 2000s became our heyday. But in four years of college, the memories extend far beyond the walls of Fenway.
I'll never forget the countless hours of hall sports that aided in more procrastination than I sometimes care to acknowledge. And I'll never forget the rounds of FIFA, with their screams of victory and cries of bitter defeat. I'm not sure which took more of a beating: the walls of my room in Metcalf or my GPA. My friends and I invented more useless, wonderful games simply from sheer boredom and laziness that we could have been labeled a think tank - a useless think tank, but a think tank nonetheless.
I learned that there is as much intensity, pathos and drama in a game of club dodgeball as in any professional sport. The same goes for flag football. In fact, anytime you threw a certain Alaskan native onto a team, you were pretty much guaranteed a good show, and a cat.
I'll never forget Professor Gill's "Sports in American History" course. I was fortunate enough to take it the spring of my freshman year, and I'll forever be grateful. For anyone who thinks baseball is just a game, go talk to Professor Gill. In fact, go talk to him either way; you'll come away a little bit more knowledgeable every time.
I'll never forget this summer's World Cup. After a healthy dose of Wikipedia and FIFA 2006, I finally got the soccer craze. When attempting to send a player on a run to set up the perfect cross on X-Box, you gain a new appreciation for the real thing. Nothing could compare to the pervasiveness of the event. Everyone was talking about it; everyone had his or her team. I still have my France T-shirt, and despite the fact that Zinedine Zidane tried to kill someone with his head, I wear that shirt with pride.
I'll never forget watching the Cup finals with two of my best friends in an Italian restaurant in Lincoln, N.H. We were about the only people in the bar, along with a Portuguese family rooting for Italy, since France had knocked its team out in the semis.
But perhaps my favorite memory came last year as friends and I made a road trip to Middlebury, Vt. to watch the men's lacrosse team in the NESCAC semifinals. That was one of the most incredible sporting events I have ever seen, and despite a crushing triple-overtime loss, that game, the determination of the players and the intensity of the fans taught me what it meant to be a Jumbo that day.
At the end of that game we swore we'd be watching Middlebury lose on our home turf this year, and we were partially right. Beating Middlebury for the first time in over 40 years and capturing a regular-season NESCAC title was the pinnacle of these four years. And even though the team lost only a week later, that low was matched by the high of the team's historic NCAA Tournament bid.
It is hard to believe four years have come and gone. I still remember the summer before arriving at Tufts, an older friend, whose father had gone here, trying to teach me the Jumbo fight song. I don't remember the lyrics now, but after four years and too many great memories to record here, a song could never capture all it has meant to me to be a Jumbo.
Thanks for reading.
Andrew Bauld is a senior majoring in English and political science. He can be reached at andrew.bauld@tufts.edu.
