Rarely do I wish I lived somewhere else. But, for a day or two every couple of years, I think it would be nice to be somewhere else for a little while.
In college football, the greatest rivalry, so it is said, is the Ohio State/Michigan game. I don't really buy it -- my Ohio State graduate in-laws notwithstanding. You see, when that game is over, one state rejoices and the other mourns. But they don't have to look at each other while they do it. They don't have to live with the winners (or losers). In Utah it's different.
In Utah, there's a reckoning.
This is the week. One side gloats, one side fumes, and then we all try to figure out how to live with each other for another year. For me, The Reckoning is threefold:
I live in a neighborhood, and attend church with a congregation, that consists primarily of Ute fans. Yesterday I had to face all of those people. There were a LOT of red ties in the congregation. I sat at the back of each meeting, so that I wouldn't have to look at them. Eventually though, I had to speak to my neighbors, and there was some good natured ribbing. I can take it, I've been humbled before. Church is the least of my worries when it comes to The Reckoning (at least where football is concerned).
I also work, primarily, with Ute fans. They are not as forgiving, or good natured, as the church goers. See, I'm not a trash talking kind of guy. Except for this one time of year. I say things that might be considered ...provoking...inflammatory...perhaps, riot inducing(?). And, for the last two years, my team has backed me up. But The Reckoning will always catch up to you -- it's just a matter of time. It's not even worth calling in sick, because it will be waiting for you whenever you get back. So I just went to work today, and took it. You live and die with your team.
3. My Brother
The worst part about The Reckoning is when you know you deserve what you're about to get. Tim is a Ute fan. It's what he lives for. I'll see him on Thanksgiving. I've been merciless for the last two years. I egg him on. I remind him all year of the last two heartbreaking losses. Last Christmas, I wrapped his presents in BYU wrapping paper. And he takes it mostly, I think, because he's always deferred to me as the older brother. This year he'll tease a little bit, but he won't say much. He'll just sit there in his smug superiority, smiling like the cat that ate the canary. And there won't be a thing I can say. My team has a national championship, but that was decades ago. His team has busted in to the BCS. Twice. He doesn't need to say anything at all. He knows The Reckoning has taken care of all that.
I hear Ohio is nice this time of year.