Ritualistic Behavior
The second week in October probably doesn't mean much to a lot of people. For my older brother Brian and me, the second week of this month always has meaning. You see, for the last 30 years, no matter where we are in the world, we have to talk crap to each other. When I was an over the road truck driver, I would still find a few minutes to give him crap or in most cases, to hear him talk stuff. You see, traditionally, my beloved Florida State Seminoles play the hated Hurricanes of Miami on this weekend.
Maybe I should delve a bit more into the dynamics of our 'little brother/ big brother' relationship. If Brian likes or loves anything, I tend to dislike whatever it is. I always felt disdain for younger brothers who wanted to emulate/idolize/ or constantly pay homage to their hated older brother. Screw that! From teams he rooted for, to movies and television programs he admired, I hated them. Lol. Seriously, whether I secretly admired some of his favorites, I never let him know. During the first year of the television show, 'The Wire,' he praised the hell out of it, making me never want to watch it, simply due to him liking it. Strange, right? Little Brother syndrome is the self diagnosed condition which I have named my behavior. Incidentally, I did eventually watch "The Wire,' and it is probably the greatest show ever created. Whatever.
Back in 1982 or 1983, my brother forced me to watch a New Year's Day game of
football. The Cornhuskers of Nebraska were playing a team I'd never heard of, the Hurricanes. Brian was fervent in his admiration of this team, who to me had the ugliest combination of colors ever put together, a vomit inducing clash of orange and green. Disgusting. I crossed my fingers for Nebraska, but they managed to lose to Miami, giving the Hurricanes their first national championship. Uggh.
I did my research and I fervently began rooting for Miami's biggest rivals, Florida State. Of course, right? From then on, I rooted for the Seminoles through thick and thin, from 'wide right' disasters to free shoes, and even more recently, crab legs. Yeah, I'm a for real fan of FSU football. The interesting thing about our rivalry which most don't remember or understand, the annual game between FSU and the 'Canes used to decide which team would be playing for the national championship on New Year's Day. Look it up if you don't believe me. The second week of October always used to have those ramifications. Legends were made during this heated rivalry, and my favorite football players arose from this game. Deion Sanders, Warrick Dunn, Derrick Brooks, and of course, Charlie Ward. Never cared much for most of the 'Canes, Michael Irving, LaMarr Thomas, Warren Sapp, Jeremy Shockey, etc. Nope. I do like Ed Reed, so I forgive him for going to the wrong school.
Miami and FSU is the ultimate clash of brothers. These kids played Pee-Wee football together, went to the same high schools, and some later wound up playing for the same NFL franchises. Derrick Brooks and Sapp, Anquan Bolden amd Reed, and they won Super Bowls together. Oh, Primetime and The Playmaker, or to the cubistic, Deion Sanders and Michael Irving. Brothers and rivals. Sounds familiar.
This past Saturday, despite all of my other plans and obligations, my brother and I watched the game together, replete with 'Tomahawk' chants, snide references to losses of the past, and texts and shout outs from those who know our history and have lined up on side of the rivalry or the other. My cousin Mike Eversley is my little brother, and he roots for the 'Noles because he was raised right! Lol. My honorary brother, Harold Carter, lives in Australia, but I'm pretty sure he was rooting for the U. Pitiful. Lol.
Over the years, something strange happened though. I find myself rooting for the 'Canes when they aren't playing FSU. Call it a grudging respect for them, or maybe it's an underlying sense of admiration for my brother. Last night, we flipped the channels back and forth, between the Cubbies and the football game. We talked, laughed, drank beer, and reminisced about all of the FSU versus Miami games. Good times, man.
During a lull or commercial break, my brother finally picked up 'Daddy's Boy,' a short story I wrote for which I received my first publishing contract. At first he questioned why I kept saying "My Dad" in the story. I explained why and he became quiet, totally immersed in the story. When he reached the end, he buried his face in his hands, and I could see the wetness in his eyes. When he spoke again, he said he was going to have his 123 students read it, because it hit home for him, as it would for anyone reading it. His pride in me made the game seem miniscule and unimportant. But, for the record, Florida State won, due to a blocked kick. Go 'Noles. Hey Brian, see you next year.
