I feel like I owe some people an apology.
To the unlucky person sitting in front of me at football games, I really don’t mean to cover you in my saliva.
To the parent with a small child sitting in The Den, I really don’t mean to shape your infant’s four-letter vocabulary.
And to the game officials, I really don’t think you are any of those four-letter words.
Now that that is out of the way, I need to come to terms with the fact that I have a problem.
I didn’t know I had a real problem. Not until the Stanford game.
Yes, I knew I was loud. Yes, I knew I was obnoxious. But sometimes it just takes that weird little incident to make you come to a realization.
That incident occurred at the Rose Bowl. It was simple, really. I was screaming my head off, stringing them together like nobody’s business ““ the usual stuff.
Then a girl looked up at me, without the usual amusement, rather disgust. And my friend had to back me up.
She said simply, “He’s not drunk.”
Her look told me she remained unconvinced.
And then I felt bad. This girl had to endure both my spit and slang. And for that matter, so did all the parents. Amid my tirade, I had forgotten they were there. What a great impression I had made for the parents of first years who had entrusted their sons and daughters to this positive, thriving, learning environment they call UCLA.
It all compounded into one embarrassing moment. But it was not the first.
I have resolved and resolved to stop being that one ridiculous fan. And it never works.
I was yelling at refs when I first went to a Suns/Clippers game at the age of 8. I was yelling at refs as I watched my brother’s recreational basketball games. I had the basketball coach at my high school once reprimand me personally for being out of control.
And of course all that got magnified here at UCLA where the stakes are even higher.
I don’t know what to do at this point.
But I do know that yelling at sporting events is my best form of therapy. I do know I have a lot of pent-up stress by Saturday. I do know what I’m talking about when it comes to sports, and I know I like to show that off to people.
I also know that I care, and I yell, at least in part, because I care so much. I yell at the refs because they are the perfect scapegoat when things are going wrong ““ and doesn’t it seem like stuff goes wrong all the time?
And I yell because no one else is yelling. After a year at UCLA, I still fail to understand how a school can have such elite sports programs and have such an ambivalent, casual fanbase.
Maybe that’s why I haven’t been able to change. The yelling, while inappropriate, is well-intentioned. The more out of control I am, the better I feel I’m doing my job. That seems stupid, and at one level it is. There’s no excuse for outright bad behavior.
But I do wonder what the line is between being a passionate sports fan, and being an obnoxious idiot.
Until I figure that out, I suppose I better apologize in advance to anyone who will be attending the Oregon State game.
If you’ve ever sat in front of Stevens, e-mail him at mstevens@media.ucla.edu.