The Greyhound
Matt Kiebus
Issue date: 11/20/07 Section: Sports
Intramural athletics is a safe haven for the average or marginal athlete. If you never played a varsity sport in high school, this is your chance to become a hero.
From the time any athlete steps on a basketball court, baseball diamond or football field his/her ultimate goal is to make it professionally (at least in third grade it is). Some people hold on to these dreams longer than others, some don't hold onto their dreams long enough, but frankly I'm still holding out hope to become the first astronaut-MLB-baseball-player-NFL-coach in recent memory (I think Deion Sanders did it though).
The intramural scene is filled with a variety of athletes: you have your neighborhood street football players, backyard basketball players and the high school benchwarmers. Then there's the special ones who are only playing intramurals because the New York Knicks didn't have enough roster spots open or they turned down a football scholarship to USC because Loyola has a better academic reputation. Yes, believe it or not, your classmates are that athletically gifted, or so some will tell you.
Professional sports dreams may have ended years ago for the legions of student-athletes at Loyola. By default, intramurals have become our NFL, NBA and MLB, but without the cheerleaders, coaches or mascots.
The love of competition is what drives most people to intramurals, not the camaraderie or friendly bonding with classmates. You play to win the glorious white Fruit of the Loom T-shirt that has screen-printed "Loyola Intramural Champions" on it. Friendships are formed and broken. Best friends endure strained relationships after losses. Like all sports, there are pitfalls and podiums. People take pride in intramurals; they play for the sense of accomplishment.
Everyone takes it seriously. Intramural sports aren't treated like middle school gym classes; they're intense like Sunday morning men's basketball leagues. You remember your triumphs and failures.
From the time any athlete steps on a basketball court, baseball diamond or football field his/her ultimate goal is to make it professionally (at least in third grade it is). Some people hold on to these dreams longer than others, some don't hold onto their dreams long enough, but frankly I'm still holding out hope to become the first astronaut-MLB-baseball-player-NFL-coach in recent memory (I think Deion Sanders did it though).
The intramural scene is filled with a variety of athletes: you have your neighborhood street football players, backyard basketball players and the high school benchwarmers. Then there's the special ones who are only playing intramurals because the New York Knicks didn't have enough roster spots open or they turned down a football scholarship to USC because Loyola has a better academic reputation. Yes, believe it or not, your classmates are that athletically gifted, or so some will tell you.
Professional sports dreams may have ended years ago for the legions of student-athletes at Loyola. By default, intramurals have become our NFL, NBA and MLB, but without the cheerleaders, coaches or mascots.
The love of competition is what drives most people to intramurals, not the camaraderie or friendly bonding with classmates. You play to win the glorious white Fruit of the Loom T-shirt that has screen-printed "Loyola Intramural Champions" on it. Friendships are formed and broken. Best friends endure strained relationships after losses. Like all sports, there are pitfalls and podiums. People take pride in intramurals; they play for the sense of accomplishment.
Everyone takes it seriously. Intramural sports aren't treated like middle school gym classes; they're intense like Sunday morning men's basketball leagues. You remember your triumphs and failures.
"I went 1-13 from the field freshman year in the basketball Spring Semester Semifinals," said junior Jeff Lordi, who embodies the intramural passion. "I still lose sleep over it. I'll take that with me to my grave."
In many ways this is the last chance to play for an athletic team, except adult softball, but that's 10 years and about 58 pounds away. College upperclassmen are entering the twilight of their respective athletic careers.
Growing up it's all about the trophies, and they came in bunches (heck, they gave them away for participation). Track meets even give out sixth-place ribbons. Nevertheless, our quest in life is the pursuit of these trophies, but the older you get the more they elude your grasp.
Most of our athletic careers start in second grade at the ripe age of 7, before we learned cursive, and they basically end at 22 when the last horn sounds. At the end of these 15 years we seek self affirmation about our past. It's proof that we did something worth being proud of. As odd as it may seem at 20 years old, our athletic career are almost over. We may have our whole lives ahead of us to balance our checkbooks and worry about our college loans, but right now the opportunity to play ball with reckless abandon like we did as kids is getting smaller by the moment. The pick up games to 11 p.m. are treasured, the Monday and Tuesday night intramural contests are cherished.
"There's definitely a sense of urgency; everyone on the court knows that we don't have many games left," Lordi said. "So we go out there and play for each other, pride and bragging rights."
College intramurals give everyone a chance to feel special; even Charlie Brown would've benefitted. It is a challenge you don't face in your Calc 4 class, but rather a battle against your peers. It brings back the feeling of hitting a home run off of Rob McDaniels in fifth grade, and making the school basketball team in sixth, except now we have a more interesting vocabulary to express anger when the outcomes don't go our way. Granted, the buzzer-beaters and walk-off home runs are not normally televised, and the crowds are significantly less than those old Expos games, but the rush of playing for something -- whether it be pride, glory, women or T-shirts -- is what keeps each person coming back for more.
In many ways this is the last chance to play for an athletic team, except adult softball, but that's 10 years and about 58 pounds away. College upperclassmen are entering the twilight of their respective athletic careers.
Growing up it's all about the trophies, and they came in bunches (heck, they gave them away for participation). Track meets even give out sixth-place ribbons. Nevertheless, our quest in life is the pursuit of these trophies, but the older you get the more they elude your grasp.
Most of our athletic careers start in second grade at the ripe age of 7, before we learned cursive, and they basically end at 22 when the last horn sounds. At the end of these 15 years we seek self affirmation about our past. It's proof that we did something worth being proud of. As odd as it may seem at 20 years old, our athletic career are almost over. We may have our whole lives ahead of us to balance our checkbooks and worry about our college loans, but right now the opportunity to play ball with reckless abandon like we did as kids is getting smaller by the moment. The pick up games to 11 p.m. are treasured, the Monday and Tuesday night intramural contests are cherished.
"There's definitely a sense of urgency; everyone on the court knows that we don't have many games left," Lordi said. "So we go out there and play for each other, pride and bragging rights."
College intramurals give everyone a chance to feel special; even Charlie Brown would've benefitted. It is a challenge you don't face in your Calc 4 class, but rather a battle against your peers. It brings back the feeling of hitting a home run off of Rob McDaniels in fifth grade, and making the school basketball team in sixth, except now we have a more interesting vocabulary to express anger when the outcomes don't go our way. Granted, the buzzer-beaters and walk-off home runs are not normally televised, and the crowds are significantly less than those old Expos games, but the rush of playing for something -- whether it be pride, glory, women or T-shirts -- is what keeps each person coming back for more.
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