Surprisingly, I like the Super Bowl the least of these events. Of course, we were treated to a classic game this past February, one with a transcendent good versus evil - sorry Pats fans - theme that ended triumphantly. The Super Bowl, however, suffers from a flaw that its seasonal counterparts do not: It is necessarily a two-team, two-city affair. It is a great event in that its appeal transcends regional boundaries, but true passion for the game is, in most years, confined to two distinct fan-bases, as it was during my hometown Steelers' championship two years ago. For the rest of the country, the event is more spectacle than sport.
March Madness might be the best American sporting event. It is certainly the only one that can, on a consistent basis, encourage casual viewers to become loudly and emotionally involved in a game between two teams to which they have no actual relationship. In general I don't even enjoy basketbal,l but I annually complete a consistently horrendous bracket; this year I took Bobby Knight's advice and was foiled by the early exits of Duke and Pittsburgh. As for the games themselves, I distinctly remember watching George Mason defeat the University of Connecticut two years ago. Just two days ago, I yelled at the television in support of Davidson as the tiny North Carolina college upset heavily favored Georgetown. The passion of the young athletes, particularly from the unknown schools such as Belmont and Siena, is always inspiring, easily surpassing that found in professional basketball. It is truly a beautiful event, marked by the extraordinary emotion, heartbreak and triumph felt by the players and their supporters. It is nearly perfect.
In only a few weeks, shortly after the intense, edge-of-your-seat excitement of college basketball had ended, the focus of the American sports world shifts to Augusta, Ga. As interesting as the other three majors are to me as a golfer, only the Masters carries the broad, transcendent appeal outside of the sport itself that defines the two previous spectacles. People from Alaska to Florida can enjoy the individual skill and passion of the players without being tied to rooting for a particular team. The dynamic of a prohibitive favorite, several top-tier contenders and a few interesting insurgent candidates almost always creates intrigue during the entire four days of the tournament that continues to build until the last few holes on Sunday. Sometimes the favorite pulls it out at the last moment - Tiger Woods over Chris DiMarco in 2005 - sometimes the underdog completes his journey - Zach Johnson over Tiger Woods in 2007 - and, from time to time, something simply extraordinary happens - Jack Nicklaus winning in 1986 at the age of 46. This greatness of the sport combined with the majesty of the stage makes every year memorable and beautiful.
Despite the broad appeal of these last three events, my personal favorite moments of the sporting calendar occur during the intensity of the Stanley Cup Playoffs. Unfortunately, I cannot claim that the National Hockey League has any broad appeal beyond its traditional fanbase, even during the chase for the Cup. But within that group of extremely passionate followers, very little in life is more emotional than watching the success and, most years, failure of favorite teams.
For me, this manifests itself in a quite literally lifelong relationship with the Pittsburgh Penguins. The team won two consecutive Stanley Cups in the early '90s when I was just reaching the age at which I could understand what was happening. Watching the great moments from those championship runs, particularly raising that first Cup in 1991, brings more emotion to my face than any Steelers game before or since. And now, as my franchise ices its best team since the glory days of the 1990s, just thinking about the possibility of this current group of young players raising Lord Stanley's chalice over their heads brings forth a strange sense of pride, as if I would somehow be responsible. It is a sensation that is difficult to describe - it is simply passion for a sport and a team that is endemic in the game of hockey.
And so, with all the stress of classes and the angst of political and social debate, having these (mostly) relaxing and classic events to look forward to makes it all a bit more bearable.
Brandon McGinley is a sophomore from Pittsburgh, Pa. He can be reached at bmcginle@princeton.edu.
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