Spring Break
Breaking up with UConn
Kevin Meacham
Issue date: 4/30/09 Section: Sports
I think I've been a little shy about letting you know how I feel about you, UConn. And, well, it's difficult for an introvert like me to say so, but I'm leaving in three weeks, so what the hell: I like ya, UConn. I really do. And I'm gonna miss you, girl.
There's so much about you that I've liked during the last four years. Rentschler Field has moved steadily closer to getting this whole college football thing right (just as soon as you start working on getting people inside the stadium before kickoff). Gampel Pavilion's student section doesn't take a backseat to anybody in this part of the country. Morrone Stadium is the best home-field advantage in college soccer.
After four years of flirtation, your charms have finally pulled me in, UConn. You turned me into the type of person who gets pumped up listening to the fight song and teary-eyed hearing the alma mater, the type of person who watches the 2004 national championship highlight video on YouTube when I need a morale boost.
Deep down, I'll always keep you in my heart, UConn, even though you're not a lady, just an anthropomorphic representation of a tiny New England campus town. You lured me to Charlotte, N.C., Detroit, St. Louis and Tampa Bay, Fla., and every dollar I spent on gasoline, plane tickets, or Meineke Car Care Bowl shirts or Final Four shot glasses was worth it.
Yet I don't know - on the one hand, you've got so many good qualities, and I've really enjoyed my time with you. But on the other hand, you've got a dark side. Deep down, UConn, you're a bit of a gold digger.
Normally, I don't have a problem with that. As it is, I've been paying you $25,000 a year for your services. You've been very good to me, and I've been able to travel the country and have the best job a college kid could have.
But I can't help but feel like you don't really love me like I love you.
I've sat in the student section at Gampel Pavilion dozens of times, and I see you stifling my fellow students' creativity, banning signs for the last month of the season. I see you take away any of the spontaneity and atmosphere by banning cool fan gimmicks (like that time the guys in the front row tossed up baby powder in sync with Jeff Adrien).
There's so much about you that I've liked during the last four years. Rentschler Field has moved steadily closer to getting this whole college football thing right (just as soon as you start working on getting people inside the stadium before kickoff). Gampel Pavilion's student section doesn't take a backseat to anybody in this part of the country. Morrone Stadium is the best home-field advantage in college soccer.
After four years of flirtation, your charms have finally pulled me in, UConn. You turned me into the type of person who gets pumped up listening to the fight song and teary-eyed hearing the alma mater, the type of person who watches the 2004 national championship highlight video on YouTube when I need a morale boost.
Deep down, I'll always keep you in my heart, UConn, even though you're not a lady, just an anthropomorphic representation of a tiny New England campus town. You lured me to Charlotte, N.C., Detroit, St. Louis and Tampa Bay, Fla., and every dollar I spent on gasoline, plane tickets, or Meineke Car Care Bowl shirts or Final Four shot glasses was worth it.
Yet I don't know - on the one hand, you've got so many good qualities, and I've really enjoyed my time with you. But on the other hand, you've got a dark side. Deep down, UConn, you're a bit of a gold digger.
Normally, I don't have a problem with that. As it is, I've been paying you $25,000 a year for your services. You've been very good to me, and I've been able to travel the country and have the best job a college kid could have.
But I can't help but feel like you don't really love me like I love you.
I've sat in the student section at Gampel Pavilion dozens of times, and I see you stifling my fellow students' creativity, banning signs for the last month of the season. I see you take away any of the spontaneity and atmosphere by banning cool fan gimmicks (like that time the guys in the front row tossed up baby powder in sync with Jeff Adrien).
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