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Sometimes it Feels Like the Good Old Days

March 19th, 2024 by Kenneth Abrahams

Sports have always been a major part of my life. Growing up in South Bend, Indiana, Saturdays in the fall when Notre Dame was playing at home, were sacred. It wasn’t uncommon to see the Goodyear blimp circling overhead and we lived close enough to the stadium to hear the marching band playing the fight song. A friend of mine and I would go over to the stadium and try and find tickets. Often, we found people who had friends that didn’t show up and they were happy to give us their tickets. Some game days we waited until halftime and would get tickets from folks that had seen enough and were leaving at the half or just decided they would rather tailgate and listen to the game instead of watching it. In those days, you could get back into the game even with a ticket stub.

Sundays were often spent watching the Chicago Bears games on a small, grainy, black, and white TV set. If my dad was home, he would make us sandwiches to enjoy during the game. Dick Butkus was my favorite player. I also had a Bears sweatshirt, which looked like his number 51 jersey, that I wore when we played “touch” football. Our games were pick-up games that we played without parents, or a complicated set of rules, and we refereed ourselves. They were not part of organized play dates, they just happened. Sometimes we played the sport that was in season or close to it, football in the fall and winter, baseball and Whiffle Ball in the spring and summer, basketball was thrown in on occasion. Growing up hockey wasn’t a big thing.

Despite a lack of talent or physical gifts, through high school I played sports. My athletic career started with wrestling, where I set a grade school record for being pinned the fastest. Many years later my record was broken. In high school, I played football for a season and lacrosse for 2; although I fared a bit better in those pursuits, nobody was going to recruit me to play at the next level. It was a wonderful form of exercise and in many respects a bit of an escape. As a member of a team, you were treated a bit differently. People that would barely acknowledge me before joining would, at least, be cordial and somewhat welcoming when I was on the team. As I said, sports were an important part of my life.

Much has changed since back then. Read The Chronicle of Higher Education or many major newspapers and you can read story after story of the troubled youth in this country. It is disheartening to read about increased rates of mental health issues or to see the statistics concerning opioid use and deaths among our young. Many high schools, colleges, and universities can’t seem to hire enough counselors to deal with the depression, anxiety, and feelings of isolation so many students feel today. Suicide rates have dramatically increased in that segment of our population. Growing up I didn’t know anyone that committed suicide, but both my children have attended funerals of classmates and friends who took their own lives. It is a sad situation indeed. We spent a lot more time today talking about serious subjects like self-harm, gender identity, sexual orientation, diversity, equity, and inclusion than we did when I was growing up.

For years, I was a huge fan of both professional and big-time college athletics but over time that love affair ended. In 1994, major league baseball had a labor dispute between the players and the owners that resulted in the playoffs and World Series being canceled. For me, that was the last straw. Listening to millionaire players complain about billionaire owners, and vice versa, was more than I could take. It was more than 10 years before I went back to a major league baseball game, and I don’t have nearly the same passion that I once had for sports in general. Recently, I have gone to or watched 3 athletic contests that brought me back to the days of my youth. Assumption University, where my wife works, was in their conference finals in hockey and we went to the game. No, it wasn’t the NCAA Frozen Four, but it was a great game in an electric environment. The rink was packed with vocal students, faculty, staff, and parents from both schools. Unfortunately, we had to leave before the second overtime. So, we didn’t get to see Assumption take home the win, but it was a great game that was well played and entertaining. Assumptions Women’s Basketball team was in the NACA Division II East Regional Semifinals and unfortunately lost. A valiant effort but sadly, they came up short on the scoreboard. Last but not least, my nephew was playing in the Connecticut State Hockey finals. When my sister-in-law sent us the link to watch the game, I told her it was a busy time of year, and I would try and watch but wasn’t optimistic I would make it. Sitting at my desk that night I realized opportunities like this just don’t happen that often, so I tuned in figuring I would keep it on in the background while I worked. As soon as the game started, I was hooked. Somehow, the work would get done later. Other than during intermissions, I watched the whole game. Despite being the underdog my nephew’s team won, and to make it even better he scored a goal.

Few, if any, of the students that I watched in those 3 games will make a living through their athletic prowess, but the passion that so many of them showed was clear. It brought me back to a simpler time. Nobody was on the court or the ice taking selfies or posting to social media. They played hard for themselves, their teammates, and the love of the game. When goals were scored the jubilation was evident and their celebrations fun but not over the top. At the end of the game, win or lose, handshakes and congratulations were exchanged. For those that won, it will be a memory of a lifetime. For those that took the loss, for a few hours or a few days, it will be painful. As the saying goes, this too shall pass.

These contests brought me back to when I was a kid growing up. The games looked just like they did when I was a kid. For those hours that I watched the troubles of the world seemed to melt away and all that mattered was what was right in front of me. We all need more times like that and more occasions where kids can just be kids.

About the author

Ken Abrahams was born in South Bend Indiana and is the father of 2 boys both who played sports. Like many parents he helped coach some of those teams and got to live vicariously through his kids. For the record both are better athletes than he was.

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