Let’s get this out of the way now: I hate Michigan State.
It may be illogical, irrational, and even immoral, but nothing anyone says can change that. It’s a hatred that stems from a childhood spent in Michigan Stadium, idolizing great Wolverines like Mike Hart, who famously called the Spartans “little brother.” It’s a hatred that has allotted me years of bragging rights over my neighbors, as well as the occasional year of shame after one of Michigan’s rare football losses to its in-state rival.
I’m guessing all of you have a similar hatred. It may be a unique one stemming from an allegiance you had before you were a Blue Devil. Or, most likely, it is toward the hated Tar Heels, eight miles down the road.
All of these feelings stem from one of the most unique elements of sport—the rivalry. And rivalry, in turn, is what differentiates college sports from their professional counterparts.
True, there are some great rivalries in professional sports, like Yankees-Red Sox, Lakers-Celtics, or Red Wings-Avalanche (that last one might be confusing to the hockey-illiterate, but trust me, it’s brutal). One’s allegiance to a professional team is tenuous at best, however. It’s defined strongest by geographical location or even by something even more arbitrary like a favorite player. And all these teams play multiple times a year, diluting the impact of the rivalry unless the sports gods bless fans with a playoff matchup.
In college, though, you are your school. You take pride not only in the name of the university on your diploma, but everywhere else you see that name. And while some schools find their names on a famous research paper or in the U.S. News and World Report rankings, the real sports fan cares most about what happens with the school’s name on ESPN.
And when it comes to pride, nothing is more important than bragging rights. You don’t take pride in your accomplishments if they aren’t compared to a rival’s failures. And that’s where sport offers its unique benefit.
In no other venue are two rivals matched up, head-to-head, like they are in sport. When Duke and North Carolina play there is a winner and a loser. There’s no debate. On that night, one team is superior and one is inferior.
The skittish among us, however, might find this profound hatred and egoism that sport engenders disheartening. They shouldn’t. Because as much as we all may “hate” the Tar Heels, the sane among us would never actually try to harm a North Carolina fan. In fact, we’d probably banter good-heartedly with one of our Tar Heel friends, and have them take us out for a drink after Duke beats them yet again.
But in reality, loyalty overshadows hatred. College sport is unique for the community it creates among fans, a community that is strengthened by a common hatred for one’s rival. Say what you may about Duke’s academic prowess, but it’s the basketball team that differentiates this institution from any other of similar academic standing. The overwhelming sense of school spirit that permeates this place wouldn’t be possible without sport, nor without a shared hatred for North Carolina.
And how strong is that hatred, that rivalry? Well, it sticks with you even when you’re hundreds of miles from home. It sticks with you when you’ve spurned your childhood dream school for a new opportunity. It sticks with you even if your team can’t seem to win a game when you’re in the stadium, when it’s in the worst three-year period of its football history and when it hasn’t beaten its rival in three years. This is the situation I’m struggling through along with my beloved Wolverines.
And it’ll certainly stick with me when Duke plays Michigan State Wednesday night in Cameron. That game will mean more to me than any other non-conference matchup because of my prior allegiances, allowing me to feel connected by that hatred for two hours with friends currently in Ann Arbor. To be honest, though, it may just help alleviate the pain of the Wolverines’ recent failures.
So I’ll reiterate: I hate Michigan State. But I’m not against grabbing a drink with a Spartan after the game—as long as it means I get to rub a victory in their face for a few more hours.
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