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About The daily Nebraskan. ([Lincoln, Neb.) 1901-current | View Entire Issue (March 7, 1996)
Fanaticism Teams forge common identity in everyone March is a great month. Aside from spring break, which I have been looking forward to since late January, it happens to be the month when spring training starts. Each of the last three years, I have spent the month in a state of dazed oblivion. I listen to the radio at night and try to pick up the signal from the AM radio station back in Denver that carries my Colorado Rockies games. Of course, the only AM radio I have that picks up the signal is in my car, so I drive around town aimlessly, cheering my team on. It signals to me the beginning of another wonderful summer. Obsessed? Yes. Disturbed? Probably, but for a reason. Quite simply, I love baseball. I never have been the type of fan who gets involved in rotisserie leagues, or mock games. In fact, I rarely do more than read the box scores and watch religiously when the Rockies are on TV. It makes it tough to be in Lincoln, especially because the Journal Star isn’t exactly the Bible of sports coverage. I have been known to drive all the way out to North Platte or Ogallala to pick up the Denver papers. I watch ESPN all night just for a peek at my players, the scores, who pulled a groin. Anything. A friend asked me recently, why? Why all the fanaticism? He said I seemed like such a normal person otherwise. The strange appeal is this. Our teams keep us rooted down to our heritage, past lives, or whatever you want to call it. They create a bond between us and other people. They allow us to identify with other people in the same way we identify with someone who is of the same ethnic or religious background. Jody Burke “/ remember the way I felt when the US. Olympic Hockey team beat the Russians for the Gold in 1980 at Lake Placid. They were OUR team. ” “Hey, you’re a Husker fan, so am I!” The players, the team uniforms and colors, even the stadiums they play in, all become ingrained in our personal memories, and in the myths of the community they reside in. Ever heard a native New Yorker over the age of 45 talk about Ebbets Field, or a subway series? The feeling can even ascend to a national level. I remember the way I felt when the U.S. Olympic hockey team beat the Russians for the Gold in 1980 at Lake Placid. They were OUR team. The best summer of my life was the summer of 1993 when I had season tickets to the Rockies. I went to games rain or shine; I even went to a handful of games by myself. The smell of the hot dogs and feel of the summer sun made me a fan forever. The teams are our identity. They are one and the same. You don’t have to be a fan of the sport to get caught up in it. In 1986, when the Broncos were in the AFC champion ship game, my mother was ranting and raving at the TV along with me and my father. I expect this from Dad. Dad and I are a bit psychotic anyhow, but not Mom. But there she was, screaming at the TV, cheering on the team. It doesn’t matter the size of the team, or the market. Some of the most fervent fans are people who live near small towns that have minor-league baseball teams. That’s why I was more than pleased when Lincoln was recently awarded a United States Hockey League franchise. It gives Lincoln another outlet. We have the Huskers, but hopefully the Stars will bring an identity to the city that has been missing. It adds one more opportunity for things to do here, at the very least. The city has been begging for any sort of excitement for a long time. What’s more, the rivalry between the Stars and the Omaha Lancers should be instantaneous. I hope the community embraces the team as its own and derives as much enjoyment out of the team as I have out of the teams in my home town. These dreams are important to us. For me, they are as much a part of my past as where I grew up. It’s good Lincoln has this opportunity. The city deserves it. Burke is a senior English major and a Daily Nebraskan columnist Nursery of life Young must plan for ‘ageing’ population Ask your peers what troubles them most about the future. You’ll likely hear AIDS, cancer, the economy, devastation of the environ ment, the welfare state, even nuclear weaponry. Such threats to security greet every generation. Few of us would be inclined to name “ageing.” We’re young and seemingly indestructible. And even the advent of our parents’ old age may seem far away. In a younger time, our parents worried about the Cold War and losing friends in Vietnam. Now they are concerned about pensions and Alzheimer’s and growing old. I think we, you and I, need to include in our vision of tomorrow a world overflowing with elders. A report, “The Economics of Ageing,” in The Economist earlier this month said, “In 1900 America had only 374,000 over-80s; by 1990, the figure had gone up to more than 7 million.” If these numbers are any indica tion of the boom in population of senior citizens, by 2030 the number will be staggering. What will these changing demographics mean to the youngsters in the crowd? As The Economist said, the Beatles invited their generation to consider growing old in a light hearted, lyrical fashion. “When I get older, losing my hair. Many years from now, Will you still be sending me a Valentine, Birthday greetings, bottle of wine... Will you still feed me, Will you still need me, When I’m 64.” It’s one thing to consider growing old with another, or with a genera tion. It’s quite another to fret about those who arc older growing ancient. Seems a heavy burden to lay on the mind of any twenty something. And past generations didn’t share the same concern. At the turn of the century, the average life expectancy Kelly Johnson “It’s one thing to consider growing old with another, or with a generation. It’s quite another to fret about those who are older growing ancient. ” was about 50 years. By 1990, this age had increased to about 72 years for men and 79 years for women. This trend begs consideration of several things. First, because we live in the land of political correctness, we’ll need to consider what to call the ageing. Old people? The aged? Elders? Golden oldies? Senior citizens? British children of the 1980s took to calling their elders “wrinklies.” That’s a surefire way to create an intergenerational divide. And second, 1 think this means we will need to change the way we perceive old age and the elderly. Take Bob Dole. The leading candidate for the Republican nomination for the American Presidency is 72 years old. Dole, if elected, can color Americans’ expectations for and beliefs about the aged. While many companies encour age early retirement for economic reasons, people are capable of working into later stages of life. And as it Becomes more commonplace for people to work into their 80s, society will adjust its ideas accord ingly. Third, industrial nations enjoy what The Economist termed, “the luxury of ageing.” People cost money to feed, clothe and shelter, at any age. But older people, after they’ve retired, are consumers. In the Edo era of Japan, peasant families practiced “uba sute,” which means “throw old mother away.” After her spouse died, the family would carry the old woman to the mountains to save the expense of feeding her. The custom is now obsolete. But most nations have a modem equivalent, namely nursing homes. Some say that “ageing in place” will become the norm. Instead of placing people in nursing homes to be cared for, they will remain in their homes. And the help they need will be given at home. Pearl S. Buck presented this challenge in 1954, “Yet somehow our society must make it right and possible for old people not to fear the young or be deserted by them, for the test of a civilization is in the way that it cares for its helpless members.” Consider this. The same baby boomers who crowded the nurseries after 1945 would be packing the nursing homes of the 2030s.” If that is true, those of us in the nursery of life must anticipate the demographic changes ahead. We must be prepared to act with compassion, to allow our elders dignity, to appreciate additional opportunities to learn from their wisdom. As John F. Kennedy said, “It is not enough for a great nation to have added new years to life, our objec tive must also be to add new life to those years.” Johnson if a senior news-editorial and English major and a Daily Nebraskan colamnist Irish want to know all about Nebraska Two months here and I’ve managed to escape the hick factor. No questions about whether we have running water. No comparisons to “Gunsmokc.” First, I had to escape the sweeping American stereotypes. I did engage in one O.J. debate, with people who knew more about Marcia Clark than I ever wanted to know. I had to convince members of a movie-saturated culture that the next-door neighbor usually isn’t Pamela Anderson and that A1 Pacino and Robert DeNiro don’t stage daily shoot-outs down Main Street USA. It’s unfair to compare the whole of the United States to Ireland when Ireland is smaller than Nebraska. New York and the movie culture of Hollywood don’t represent the whole of America. It’d be like saying an Irishman represents the whole of Europe. There are as many differences between New York and Lincoln as there are between New Delhi and Lisburn. And after people figure out I’m not a beach bimbo or city slicker, they start to wonder. Here’s how the conversation goes: So, what part of the states arc you from?” (They notice the accent.) “The Midwest,” I answer safely. “Nebraska,” I say, with a heavy emphasis on the N, so they don’t start asking me about Eskimos. And the reactions have been better than I thought they would be. I was in a pub waiting for this guy to make some smart comment about cornfields when he said, “Oh, Nebraska. Omaha. Strategic Air Command. I bet you have missiles everywhere.” Missile silos, com silos, take your pick. I was in a hostel in Belfast when a man from Galway asked where I was from. I reluctantly tried to explain before he stopped me and said, “Oh, yes, I drove through Nebraska. I stopped in this little town south of Omaha.” That “little town” was Lincoln. At the business newspaper where I work, the obvious response I got was, “Oh, yes. Paula Lavigne “I’ve gotten a few “Dances With Wolves” comparisons and one mention of Charles Starkiveather from an Australian guy in a pub in Northern Ireland. I smiled, finished my drink and ran. ” Mutual of Omaha.” And Warren Buffett, of course. I went on a tour of some crypts under a church (four months as a tourist and you get a little desperate), and the question came up again. “Nebraska,” the man said. “There’s no rock in Nebraska.” I argued until he asked me to name someone. “Matthew Sweet,” I replied, whereupon his eyes got really big. He’s a big fan, and I got a great tour. (By the way, all the record stores here have Matthew Sweet and 311 compact discs. Sorry, no Mercy Rule, but I’m working on it.) I do get a lot of, “Oh, Ne braska. that was a great Bruce Springsteen album.” I’ve gotten a few “Dances With Wolves” comparisons and one mention of Charles Starkweather from an Australian guy in a pub in Northern Ireland. I smiled, finished my drink and ran. While working at the airport, I ran into the one and only (so far) native Irishman who was an American football fan — Wash ington Redskins, but we’ll forgive him. He knew quite a bit about college football too. “Nebraska,” he said. “Yeah, aren’t you guys like, oh, what is it ... the Huskers?” Lavigae is a junior news-editorial major and a Daily Nebraskan coinmnist.
