Jayhawk progeny

Before I was conceived, I stood no chance. It was as genetically predetermined as any of my features, my ethnicity and my socioeconomic status. I, Brandon Roy Sayre, was to be a Kansas Jayhawk.

In attempt to uncover the derivative of this allegiance, I need look no further than family genealogy. My father received his Bachelor's in Business from the University of Kansas. Three of my four uncles attended KU. My Uncle Jason, who became a sort of childhood idol to me, was a KU yell-leader. I remember seeing pictures of him in his college years: sporting the then-fashionable crewcut and hoisting blond bombshells over his head, needing only a single hand to do so.

Sometime during my teens, I learned the true derivative of the Jayhawk faith. My late grandfather Roy attended his first Jayhawk basketball game in 1972 when KU hosted the Missouri Tigers. Though having no previous ties to the university, the atmosphere and tradition of Allen Fieldhouse (along with Bud Stallworth's 50 points) evidently made a believer of him. Roy Sinclair hence became the progenitor of his family's sports allegiance.

The funny thing about it was, to my recollection, my uncles & grandfather never even had to proselytize. I remember being utterly mesmerized by their behavior during basketball and football games: the emotion, the volatility, the pacing, the occasional breaking of a toy over the knee. As a famous country singer said, "I liked it, I loved it, I wanted some more of it" (of course, he didn't sing it with the past-tense).

As the steadfastness of my vicarious existence abounded to greater and more irrational heights, so did my distaste for the two (apparently) morally reprensible rivals. K-State, affectionally referred to by some of our ilk as KSUCK, our in-state and more agriculturally savvy rivals, and our mortal enemies: the Missouri Tigers. The hatred between Kansas and Missouri is astonishing, and I discovered that the mutual distaste actually finds its roots in the Civil War free state/slave state tension. The events of August 21, 1863 remain the foremost source of the border bitterness. This date marked the sacking of Lawrence, KS by William C. Quantrill and his band of Bushwackers. Per Wikipedia, "Arriving at the summit of Mount Oread and leading between three and four hundred riders, Quantrill descended on Lawrence in a fury. A four-hour session of pillaging, systematic execution of most of the male population, arson, and other mayhem ensued. By the time Quantrill's men rode out of town, one in four buildings in Lawrence had been burnt to the ground, including all but two businesses." Check out this classy Missourian (in case you can't read his hat, it bears the words "Remember Quantrill"):


Whenever a Missouri fan musters the gall to post on Phog.net, a KU message board I read with too much frequency, the ubiqitous response is "suck it, slaver." I remember, as a child, visiting Silver Dollar City in Branson, Missouri with my family. While awaiting a roller-coaster ride, one of the men facilitating the ride discovered that there were Kansans in his presence. "I thought I smelled somethin!" he crowed.

Something I've realized is that I could easily shed my allegiance. It took me one score and three years to discover it, but it's actually within my strength to make a concerted effort to lessen the fervor of my vicarious existence (I tell myself I will do this very thing each year...typically following a premature upending in the NCAA tournament). I want to emphasize that the existence is indeed of the vicarious nature: I have virtually no connection to any of the Kansas players and coaches...though, for whatever reason, I refer to them often by first name (e.g. "Oh come on, Julian! Dunk the stupid ball!").

I've often been chided for the anti-scholastic nature of my affiliation. I've also realized, in my objective moments, that my fanship provides no practical benefit to my life or to the University of Kansas. By the way, the word "fan" in Italian is tifoso as noted by Elizabeth Gilbert in her memoir Eat Pray Love, "Derived from the word for typhus. In other words--one who is mightily fevered." Food for thought. I'm not an Alum or Donor...and a Kansas victory does not necessarily improve my life in any measurable fashion. In fact, sports tend to make me even more irrational than women do...which is no small statement.

But here I sit today, resting delightedly on the laurels of yesterday's victory over Kansas State. The win propelled our team into the the top 25 for the first time since 1996, also marking our (note the possesive pronoun) first win in Manhattan in some 18 years. Needless to say, I'm sporting a rather broad grin today, a grin that magically makes all the irrationality and idiocy of being a serious sports fan worthwhile.

I suppose I've come to the conclusion that not everything we do/enjoy in life is even remotely rational, and I think I'm quite okay with that.

Kansas--30
Kansas State--24

Lift the Chorus ever onward,
Crimson and the Blue