Sidelines
Aloha Stadium
‘Animal House’
for BYU game
IN this time of great seriousness and uncertainty, in this new age when we've been shaken with what really is consequential in this life, during this wonderful season in which our celebration of the brotherhood of man means more than it ever has, it's important to stop for a second and remember that, yes, it's still OK to hate BYU.It is, and don't feel bad about it. Revel in it. Soak it all in. Close your eyes, spread your arms, tip your head back to the heavens and spin around in little circles. Feel it. Live it. Love it. The BYU game is back.
The return of BYU-UH? It's going to be nuts. I can't even describe it. I tried the other night and couldn't even put it into words. It was more of a gurgling sound.
Look at these games over the years, look at these scores: 13-3, 18-13, 10-3, 16-14, 24-23, 41-38, 13-12. Yeah, you remember them. Every game was a fourth-and-forever missed by inches, heartbreak squared. It was enough to make you lose your mind.
Which is why, without any hint of doubt, the greatest moment in Hawaii football history was not Iowa, not Nebraska, not Washington, not a conference title nor a bowl win. It was 56-14. Or maybe 59-28. Happy Heisman, to you.
And it's still there, isn't it? It's an ingrained thing. Even when the rivalry broke up when the WAC did. Even with the "new" BYU -- even when the Cougars traded in those old, multi-stickered, "Jim McMahon," big-Y helmets and lighter blue togs for those new wave, ridiculous Nike outfits that made them look like penguins. Even if the Rushmore-esque LaVell Edwards is no longer stealing local prospects and Power Frowning on the sideline.
You followed them, didn't you? You waited, torn between former UH president Kenneth Mortimer's fiery, spiteful promise never to play the traitors again (all the more reason to hate them, my dear) and the abject horror at the thought of never seeing another BYU-UH brouhaha. No BYU game? There had to be a BYU game!
This was a game that had to be played, because you hate them, really hate them, hate them the way Flounder hated Neidermeyer's horse.
But don't worry. It's OK. This isn't hate hate, not bin Laden hate, or Hitler hate, or even "I hate broccoli" hate. No, this is good, clean, fun stuff. Sports hate, rivalry hate, "I hate the Yankees" hate, the kind where you can't decide between wanting a piece of them at their peak or wanting them to lose every game. (Lose every game!)
You know, the kind of thing that made America great.
Sure, some people may take this too far and go the wrong way with it, as some people always do. ("We can only hope this doesn't fall into the wrong hands.") But sports hate, rivalry hate, is a good thing, especially now, in a world gone mad. It's white lightning, pure and hot and wonderful and about to boil over again, and BYU is undefeated and 8-3 UH has no bowl to go to.
This is the great staple of college sports. This is what words try to capture, but somehow, never can. This is going to be insane. Go ahead and feel it. Let the gurgling begin.
Kalani Simpson's column runs Sundays, Tuesdays and Fridays.
He can be reached at ksimpson@starbulletin.com