COLUMN: A note to all our cocky jockies
I would feel like a hypocrite if I didn’t start by saying I used to be one of them. An egotistical jock that is.
When I played football for Cherry Creek High School in Englewood, Colo., we won the state championship my sophomore, junior and senior years.
Oh yes, those were the days. I felt like I was the sun and all of the planets rotated around me. Sometimes, I still pretend.
Two years of having doors slammed in my face fixed that.
Recently, I had lunch with Aaron Smith – who played football for Utah State University in the ’80s and was drafted by the Denver Broncos in the fourth round. He played for the Broncos for a couple of years and is now successful working for AFLAC Insurance Company.
Smith grew up in Compton, Calif., and even though he was one of the best players at USU, he didn’t bank on a lucrative NFL career. He knew how important it was for him to do well in school and graduate on time.
“Hey, I had four years of free education,” Smith said. “A lot of other guys who played with me didn’t seem to understand what a great opportunity that was. They would spend their time messing around, not doing their homework.”
Things haven’t changed much.
Many of USU’s athletes could use a good, solid beating with a 2-by-4 labeled “reality.” Of course in saying this, I speak to the athletes collectively, not individually.
For example, before every home game, the basketball team eats a meal at Juniper Inn.
Before the team arrives, the waitresses at the restaurant draw straws. No, not to see who gets the chance to serve all of the studly players on the basketball team. Whoever ends up with the short straw gets the dreaded assignment of serving the pampered, whining, flirtatious and demanding basketball players. This restaurant features an extensive menu for both children and senior citizens, and yet even the 2-year-olds and the 90- year-olds don’t require as much attention as our beloved Aggies.
“This food is yucky.”
“My Coke isn’t bubbly enough.”
“WAAAAHHH.”
When I’m offered free food, all I usually say is please and thank you. But then again, the sun doesn’t revolve around me (any more).
Another friend of mine works at Cold Stone Creamery. One day, a certain unnamed basketball player came in and said, “Do you know who I am? Do you go to any basketball games?”
This arrogance also carries over into the classroom. But, why shouldn’t it? A few years ago, Utah State was highlighted in Sports Illustrated when it was discovered one of it’s graduated student athletes couldn’t even read. School isn’t important as long as you’ve got game.
“They didn’t seem to realize that after college, reality would set in. Even if by some chance you do play professionally, you’re one blown knee away from working at McDonald’s if you didn’t do well in school,” Smith said.
So, to all of our beloved student athletes, if professional sports don’t work out, you can still pretend you are the sun with planets revolving around you. But don’t slip too far into your fantasy world, because making a special order Big Mac with no pickles can take a lot of concentration.
Clark Jessop is a sophomore majoringin broadcast journalism.comments can be sent to clarkjessop@cc.usu.edu