Why is "school spirit" a dirty word at Oberlin?

In recent years-if not decades-it has become extremely fashionable to actively deride or passively ignore intercollegiate athletics here at Oberlin. One need spend only a few minutes listening to conversations at the alumni reunions each May to realize that this was not always the case. Old Guards still bask in the fading glory of the day when Obies could be competitive with powerhouses like Ohio State (or at least Akron and Kent). More recent alums from the Fifties and early Sixties can at least recall when "school spirit" carried positive connotations of togetherness, mutual support and college solidarity.

But today's Obies practically run screaming in the opposite direction when the subject arises. Why? I suspect that the roots lie in the still-fresh traumas of high school. Because of the selectiveness of the school and the rigors of the admissions process, the "typical" Oberlin student was probably among "the best and the brightest" of her or his high school. Not necessarily a "bookworm" per se, but a student for whom academics and/or music definitely came first (If not first, second and third...). If you did participate in any sports, you were an athletic student, rather than an athlete who also happened to attend a few classes. The type of high school student destined to become an Obie was not one the become caught up in the frenetic rah-rah mindset of high school cheerleading and booster-ism-and, in fact, was probably rather repelled by the mindless jingoism and uncritical adoration. She or he was also probably scarred by gym class and playground ridicule: the klutz taunted by classmates because he couldn't dribble a basketball three times without hurting his own foot, or about whom everyone giggled because she couldn't turn a decent cartwheel. Permanent right fielders in the Game of Youthful Life; Chess Club nerds and Band dorks. You may have publicly dismissed the criticism and abuse as adolescent posturing-but deep inside it had to hurt.

So you arrive at Oberlin eager to put this all behind you. Nobody knows you here. Nobody has any expectations for you except excellence in the classroom and practice room. So why, in the Wide Wide World of Sports, would you support Oberlin's intercollegiate athletic teams?

Perhaps you haven't noticed that Oberlin does not have cheerleaders. Even if you do know, perhaps the implications haven't sunk in. There aren't two separate classes on this campus-jocks/cheerleaders and hoi polloi-as in most high schools (and all too many colleges). The man playing soccer and the woman playing volleyball are the same people who sit next to you in biology lab and french horn class, the same people who join you in dorm bull sessions and LGBT meeting, groaning with you on line at the bookstore and gagging with you on line at the dining hall. There is no "jock culture" here at Oberlin, and I suspect that, despite the successes of yore, there never was.

These men and women are busting their humps on assorted fields and courts for two reasons. First, they dearly love sports they play-the physical exhilaration and the psychological empowerment of constantly testing one's strengths and weaknesses against determined opposition. And second, they play to represent their school and fellow students to those of other colleges. Yeah, we may be a bunch of "hippies and fags"-but we're also strong, fast and skilled. When you stop to think about it, this is in no significant way different from playing the piano in a recital, throwing a frisbee around in the quad-or writing for the school paper. They deserve at least as much respect, because they love what they do as truly and honestly as the rest of us love what we do. And they deserve our support because they have the drive and the guts to take that love "on the road" against other schools.

The other day in the dining hall I was talking with a friend about all this, bemoaning the fact that we can't get our fellow students out to support our athletic teams, while she talked about her lack of interest in sports. I asked her how she'd feel if she gave a concert at the Con, and looked out over a hall that was a sear of empty seats. She said she'd absolutely hate it-and then took a good three or four more seconds to realize the import of my analogy. Last semester I attended a friend's Senior Recital at the Con. Not because it was an Event-THE place to be that night-and decidedly not because I liked the music he was to perform. If it hadn't been my friend up there on the stage I would have been bored to tears. But he was my friend. And I could appreciate the effort and expertise he showed even if the end product left me unmoved. And I could applaud wildly and congratulate him wholeheartedly afterward because I knew that he had given everything he had, and I gloried with him in his strength, courage and fortitude. He didn't ask me to love the music, and I didn't require him to entertain me. It was enough that he was my schoolmate, and my friend. Why in the world would I need any other reason to show my support...? The Oberlin athlete is no different.

-Mary Margaret Towey, college first-year