At 9:55 p.m. on Monday, I finally stopped hopping nervously around the room and collapsed onto a vacant chair. Lightning had indeed struck twice as my New York Giants accomplished the improbable: they stymied Brady and co. in the Super Bowl for the second time in five seasons.
As my euphoria fizzled and I returned to earth, I suppressed my excitement — mostly due to my inauspicious geographical location.
On the walk back to my dorm, I didn't rub it in the faces of disconsolate Pats fans or scream at the top of my lungs in the middle of the street. The campus looked taut with civility, a delicate balance I had no desire to disrupt. It was as if the New York and Massachusetts contingents had pre−arranged a peace treaty.
Just 90 miles west of Tufts, however, the scene was not as serene at UMass Amherst as students "erupted in a much predicted riot," according to Brian Canova of masslive.com. Thankfully, Massachusetts State Police and UMass police were on hand to quell the riot in its incipient stage.
You're probably wondering how the police responded so quickly. Well, let's just say comparable events have transpired before — after bin Laden was killed, after the last Giants−Pats Super Bowl and after the Sox were eliminated in 2008 É and after other sports−related incidents in '01, '03, '04, '06 and '07.
The first thing I thought of upon reading this news was the rioting at Penn State in November, but I quickly realized Penn Staters were at least protesting something. Then I thought about the group of California state schools that seem to make headlines weekly for their protests, but they, too, come out in force for somewhat legitimate causes (basically all of which are more legitimate than protesting the firing of a coach who, through his inaction, was complicit in child molestation). Rioting after a game is not only incredibly dangerous, but also akin to the postgame disasters that occasionally grace the front pages of American newspapers: the recent Egyptian soccer casualties, Argentinian fans throwing rocks at each other (with 41 injured and one dead, this was one of the bloodiest in sports history) and Vancouver Canucks fans razing their own beloved city.
And above all, it makes absolutely no sense. Why would anyone ever want to be bombarded with flash bangs and smoke grenades thrown by officers in riot gear for such a stupid "cause"? Perhaps it's because I was a fan of the winning team at the time, but I think it's pretty reasonable to say these Minutemen, many of whom were likely inebriated, should have known better.
According to university spokesman Edward Blaguszewski, who noted that police decided to disperse the rapidly growing crowd only after it grew to around 1,500 people, 13 students were arrested. If that doesn't sound dumb enough, even more students set off fireworks and smashed bottles of alcohol.
Normally, in evaluating a situation like this one, I would search long and hard for an idea of what compelled these kids to riot. But after a glance at the numbers and a perfunctory read of a few articles, I was — and still am — dumbfounded.
The UMass riots changed nothing. The Patriots still lost (in what was a great game, I might add) and will go into spring as unhappy victims of yet another gritty Giants Super Bowl performance.
Since I'm still feeling the elation of a second championship in four years, I'll play eternal optimist for a change and end on a positive note. If any good — and the opportunity is certainly there for it — can come out of this, it must emerge in the form of a much−needed lesson: that outcomes of sporting events cannot be altered by the vehement protests of ordinary people.
