I'm not an advocate of the theory that sports are of great consequence to very much in the world. Rock and roll didn't save the world, and neither will athletic competition. Sports are sports.
But every once in a while, you might look back at a sporting event and find that it elicits memories of a certain time in your life. Amidst all the games we have watched and played, a few stick out as actually connected to our "real" lives. They might be as widely viewed as a professional game or as personal as high school competition.
When my uncles attended U.Va. in the early 1980s, Ralph Sampson was a college basketball icon. Largely because they had sons in Charlottesville, my grandparents began rooting for the Cavaliers.
They have been fans ever since. While driving to Texas in 1995, my grandfather refused to stop at a hotel unless they were going to have the Florida State-Virginia football game on television.
This past Saturday I went to their home in Roanoke with my mom. It was a surprise trip; I decided at lunchtime to go down. I figured that I would serve as a "guy" my grandfather could watch the U. Va.-Virginia Tech game with and catch up with my grandmother.
So I got down to Roanoke just after the start of Saturday's game. By the time I walked into the den at my grandparents' house, the game was out of hand. Tech came out firing at home after two consecutive losses. Virginia was prime for a letdown in the midst of a seven-game winning streak. But even while cringing at the score, my mom and I watched until the final buzzer with my grandparents.
My grandfather mentioned more than once during the game that "VPI" (Virginia Polytechnic Institute) was playing better than he had ever seen. He managed to hide his frustration pretty well from his trusty recliner. On the other side of the room, even late in the game, my ever-optimistic grandmother was rooting for the Cavaliers to "get to 50." I'm not sure she knew what the score was, but she cupped her hands late in the second half and implored J.R. Reynolds via whisper to make his free throws.
When the game was over, we talked about it for a while. We all agreed that it had already been and should continue to be a special season for Virginia.
"They just looked sick today," my grandfather said.
I couldn't help but fall back into reality.
Fortunately, my grandparents have never really been sick. My grandfather is 89 years old and my grandmother is 87. They are lucky not only to have lived this long, but also to have done so in better-than-average health. Sure, age is creeping in. Apparently that is what happens.
For most of my life I have searched for things to talk to them about. Usually we have pretty good conversations. Yet, as I am beginning my adult life and they are closing theirs, common experience can often be limited.
This winter, much of what we have talked about has related to Virginia basketball. When I call my grandparents, my grandfather always answers the phone. I get one question, traditionally about the weather, before he hands me off to my grandmother.
Lately though, we've talked about Virginia basketball and had some of our best conversations.
Rarely do sports change the world; more often, they simply help to define specific memories. In that way, sports can deeply affect our lives, if only as a topic of conversation between individuals whose lives and experiences have been so different.
Before I left on Sunday, I installed a handrail to help my grandfather get up the step between the dining room and the kitchen. My mom bought groceries for them. As we left, we decided that Virginia would surely bounce back from Saturday's loss.
I'm lucky to have had the opportunity to get to know my grandparents. Many people don't have that. But until recently, I'm not sure we had a common experience that really connected us.
For that reason, I can't help but know that I will look back at this time in my life as a period when our relationship strengthened because we had the common experience of rooting for a pretty good basketball team.
Without fail, during every Virginia basketball game this season, my grandparents will be huddled around the television pulling for the Cavaliers. Long after our postgame conversations end, I will remember this scene when I think of the 2007 season, no matter how many times Virginia beats Duke. I hope so. It is in memories like this that sports really matter.
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