Monson: U.-Y. rivalry more explosive than others
Gordon Monson
Salt Lake Tribune Columnist
On the one hand, all sports rivalries, within the framework of common sense, are ridiculous.
Utah vs. Brigham Young is no different.
It's about people, many of whom seem exactly the same from an outside view and some of whom differ to varying degrees, finding reasons to isolate and demean and belittle the other guys, despite being nearly mirror images of one another, or only benignly dissimilar, on account of the school they attended, or the team they root for, or the colors they wear on Saturday afternoons.
In a troubled world, where grave considerations create serious divides, the rivalry raging this week between red and blue ranks somewhere between lame and juvenile.
On the other hand, as long as it's kept in that stupid, little, confined context, what the hell? Whoever said that rivalries in sports are so intense because the stakes are so small, maybe nailed it perfectly.
Point is, football is worth hating for.
Anything more significant, such as religion or lifestyle, is not.
That's the beauty and the bane of this whole Cougar-Ute thing.
It is different than most college rivalries in that regard. It's more explosive. It ignites like a lit Marlboro flicked into a bed of dry pine needles, burning right up to the forest's edge, and, sometimes, it burns over into the tall timber, sweeping from the unimportant into the important, and that's where damage does its nasty business.
Cultural anthropologists say modern sports teams symbolize and represent colleges and communities the way knights and warriors once did in feudal times. They supposedly are us, we are them. And whichever side wins, gets the spoils, the booty, the approval, the bragging rights, the self-esteem boost.
In this particular rivalry, though, that boost is more comprehensive than most.
Urban Meyer says he's seen his share of college rivalries in his day. Ohio State-Michigan is the biggest he's experienced, but only because greater numbers of fans in larger population centers are involved there. Utah-BYU, he says, is second, but not by way of pure nitro-fueled intensity, at least not per capita.
"This is a great rivalry," he says. "The country's about to find that out."
But there's that untoward, ugly side to it, too.
The side that transcends the borders of athletic competition or even devotion to school or loyalty to an alma mater.
A side, jackhammered from both directions, that uses - and abuses - a football rivalry as an excuse to hate, outside typical smash-mouth therapeutic bounds. As a cause to loathe or condemn or lash back at some sort of perceived oppression by the dominant "culture," as we like to refer to it around here, or to bash into submission those who choose not to comply with a so-called "higher standard."
Lob a dart in any direction the day of the big game and you'll peg an offender on one side or the other of that pitiful equation.
Anybody who has attended a game in this rivalry has heard the derisive chants and read the profane signs that taunt not only BYU, but the church that owns and runs it. Caught in the crossfire are Mormons who strongly root for Utah, of which there are many. Check the Utes' roster, and see how many players are firm in that specific faith and who have served as LDS Church missionaries, and are now helping the Utes beat the Cougars.
Coming back the other way from the various herds of the good flock is the sometimes sanctimonious shelling, so cocksure that God is cheering for their team, because it, of course, represents His university and all, and the certain and condescending knowledge that the Utes are a bunch of drunks and liberals, living less perfect lives.
Those are the extremes, dancing out on the fringes, and probably are stereotypical.
But they are not apocryphal.
Too bad.
A few years back, while the Utes were beating the Cougars in Provo, a group of Utah fans seated in one section of stands slapped around an anatomically correct blow-up doll dressed as a Cougarette and crudely barked out what they should do to "her" and what "she" should do to them. Honor Code violations, all.
It was bizarre, even by this rivalry's measure.
But no more so than some partisans believing they are better or more blessed from on high because they find too much of their identity wrapped up in feeling connected to righteousness via a school's mission or its football team.
Emotions will flare, rants will rage, then, this weekend about the profound inferiority of the Utes and the obvious deficiencies of the Cougars, the incomparability of Utah and the infallibility of BYU. Everybody's in the pool on this one. In this deal, all around, there are overzealous clowns to the left, and vile jokers to the right.
Funny thing is, on both sides, they're all pretty much the same, at least as far as people go, as far as football fans go, even if there are some slight differences, among some, in the potency of the assorted beverages of choice.
This war is neither holy, nor unholy.
It's just football, the only thing worth hating for.
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