Column: Hard to let go of Texas Stadium memories
Published April 16, 2010
I have a terrible habit of getting semi-attached to materials I have used for a while. I hope I am not a mindless slave to these earthly possessions (if they no longer serve their function, I'll have to part with them), but if there is still some semblance of working order present I would prefer to get my money's worth until the bitter end.
The same ratty old backpack I've used through four grades, a calculator from high school with my written name barely legible and a mashed-up tape dispenser are just a few of a multitude of embarrassing confessions that have served me well and probably sound really weird coming from a 20-year-old guy.
Thus, you can probably imagine my horror as two of my favorites met similar dismal fates within the past week. First, it hurts me to say, my water bottle broke recently.
A few days later, Texas Stadium was imploded. Being a Dallas native and a Cowboys fan, this was weird. Although the water bottle meant a little more to me than the landmark did, I got used to seeing Texas Stadium as I drove along. I have fond memories of seeing a Cowboys game there as a 10-year-old and later, watching my high school football team play there in the playoffs.
The new Cowboys Stadium is full of flashy grandeur, and plenty of great (albeit pricier) new memories will be made there, too. But it was odd to see Texas Stadium go. Odd, like when I saw my water bottle make its fatal drop to the floor. Odd, like a college student comparing a water bottle to a football stadium. I let out a somber sigh as I saw my water bottle blow up right before my eyes, just as I would when I later watched Texas Stadium follow suit on ESPN.
Then the man inside me took over. I marveled at the explosion as shards of imposter Nalgene rocketed everywhere, and its contents (water, sadly, as fruit punch or Gatorade would have been much cooler) flooded out all at once in slow motion, as if each drop were competing for a spot on the J school floor.
It was time to start over, to start anew. It's fun to reminisce, but merely remembering won't really get you anywhere. In athletics, the real excitement comes not in what has been done before, but what is yet to be accomplished.
I would like to think when I broke my water bottle, the only other audience member present was catapulted off her feet 10 yards into the air, landing somewhere on the other side of College Avenue. In all honesty, though, she just gave me an annoyed look, probably wiped the water from her leg and carried on with her phone conversation. Life went on (somehow), and so does life in sports.
It's what you are doing on the field that matters a whole lot more than what you did and where you did it. Hard work and improvement are hard work and improvement, whether they occur with the oldest and most derelict of equipment and fields or the newest and shiniest.
Now, please don't get me wrong. If it isn't functional or has to go, it doesn't make sense to keep using it. Buy a new one or borrow it from someone. But if I've had it for a while, I might suggest someone other than me.