For the second time since The Corrs released “Breathless,” I, as a UNC Charlotte alum, have a football season to deal with. It’s dreamy, really. It’s hard to believe we actually have a team. (And we’ll take on the Fightin’ Camels of Campbell University in eight days!)
The Charlotte 49ers’ football history is shorter in duration than my junior-year experience. We were a commuter campus without a lot of pride in who we were. That’s changing. Still, I don’t know the full experience of campus pride.
Luckily, my friends do. I’ve already hosted Deb from Deb Runs, who shared what it’s like to be a Hokie. It made me well up with pride, and simultaneously crave a turkey leg. Strange, that. But if Arkansas fans can host a pig pickin’ … (Sorry, Bacon Thompson).
UNC Charlotte was a commuter school under construction. We didn’t have football. We played basketball off-campus. We were the dumb little brother to UNC-Chapel Hill. Kids would rather stay home and watch the ACC on TV than go to games.
Now, people care on campus, and in the community.
When I see people wearing green and gold, I can say, “GO NINERS!” and I’ll get a woot-woot or a fist bump. It’s kind of awesome. We have a long way to go, though, to have traditions like some schools. Such as Virginia Tech.
It’s a fair question. Vanity? Narcissism? Book-deal dreams? Some bloggers speak of an end game we must have when we hit publish for the first time. For some, it’s their toy box, full of everything from LEGO to Barbie shoes to Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles.
We write blogs to learn. And we blog to share.
It might take me a while, but I read blogs of every single person who comments on my posts. And, I pick out some of the people who commented on their blogs. It’s a referral of sorts. I’ve discovered all kinds of awesome that way.
Ever since I was a boy, the “what if” questions got me thinking.
Especially if thinking got me out of chores or homework. So when Amanda at the Miss Zippy blog postulated this week with “what if everyone ran?” it got me thinking. And avoiding chores.
What if everyone in the world decided to become runners? What if you had to wait in line at the greenway or the treadmill? What if you couldn’t swing a skinny trail runner without hitting fierce mama and her bobbing ponytail? Would we all be fit?