There is something indescribable about the heated battles between certain sports programs.  They are battles which heighten the stakes of ordinary games from wins and losses to something much deeper, richer and more profound than whether the W or the L column gets the extra hash mark at the end of the game.

I really don’t know why that emotional investment happens, but it is undeniable.  As a True Blue Tar Heel, I have to admit that I can’t swear to loving a Carolina Victory more than a Duke Defeat.  Just the mere mention of the words Lehigh or Mercer throw me into a fit of uncontrollable giggles.  Well, maybe I am exaggerating a little when I say uncontrollable… but the truth is that those words only ever cross my lips through an impish grin.

And there is a certain guilt to that.  As a former athlete and the mother of athletes, I know that I should root FOR my team, not against another.  I mean, mostly I do.  Outwardly, I definitely do.  And as I have gotten older, I’ve gotten more sensitive, I promise.

For instance, as a mother of a pitcher, I find no pleasure in a kid struggling on the mound, regardless of the color of his jersey.  As the mother of a cheerleader, my heart breaks a little when I see a stunt fall, or an athlete touch down on a tumble pass, regardless of the team.

And that’s because as we watch our athletes grow up, we know the full investment they’ve made into doing what they are doing.  We see the hours they’ve spent preparing, but we see them as a whole person, not just an athlete doing a job.  We rejoice in their highs and mourn in their struggles, not from the perspective of their individual statistics and skill sets, but with the memory of the boy who made us laugh at a stupid joke, or the kid who gave us a big hug when they saw us just because they love us.

I have too many memories like those to count of the 2016 RRHS Baseball Senior Class.  As they approach too quickly what will be their last games as high school players, I remember.  I remember Logan, barely walking, but hitting his big plastic baseball with his big yellow plastic bat, and his dad exclaiming, “He’s a lefty!” I remember the times when Nick would break into our house when no one was home so that he could play ping pong with Caleb, and that he said it was ok, because we are family.  I remember Zack and Logan, friends literally from day one, putting two Pringles chips in their mouths at once and pretending they were ducks, because, what else is there for boys to do in preschool?  I remember Tyler spending the night at our house, and sitting with me, chatting for hours at the kitchen counter, all while eating every last Hot Pocket from our freezer.  I remember so much about each of them every time they step up to do what they do: Logan, Dylan, Nick, Tyler, Frankie, Jarret, Zack. And it is with the love those memories stir up within me that I root for them with everything I have.  After all, we are family.

When it comes to rivalries, we suspend the knowledge that those personal stories MUST exist for those on the other side, because it is fun to travel to a world of good versus evil, where justice prevails because right always wins in the end.

But what do we do when our rivals also belong to us?  What do we do when the adversary has a part of our heart too?

Welcome to my world.

College Sports has Carolina versus Duke, or Michigan versus Ohio State.  The Lakers versus Celtics rivalry during the time of Magic Johnson and Larry Bird is the grandfather of Professional Basketball rivalries. Baseball boasts the Yankees versus Red Socks, and Football the Cowboys versus Redskins.  And here in Northeastern North Carolina 2A High School Sports, we have Roanoke Rapids versus Bunn.

I moved to Roanoke Rapids at the age of 7.  Aside from my college years in Chapel Hill, that was where I spent my years, and created my life.  This is home.  My children were born here, and they, like my husband and me, all assumed they would wear the black and gold colors of the middle school and  high school on their sports jerseys, through to the caps and gowns that would signal the end of their high school years.

Then life happened.  I won’t bore you with details, but in the fall of 2013, as a family we thought we were being called to move to a more centralized part of the State, and after considering our options, we landed right in the middle of our rival, Bunn.

And there we found a group of the warmest, most humble people who reached out to us when we knew no one, and welcomed us.  Much like Roanoke Rapids, Bunn and the surrounding area boasts many who grew up and stayed there.  Much like Roanoke Rapids, they are a tight knit group, but they made us feel like we belonged there too.

And there we started to build memories, and invest in the lives of the kids around us, so that when they stepped onto the playing field, we rooted for them in a way that was deeper than just the stats on their page and the colors on their jerseys.  They started to be a part of us.

Until life brought us right back to Roanoke Rapids.

We are thankful to be home.  We wouldn’t have it any other way.  Except now I feel there is a part of me whose home isn’t here anymore.  I left a part of my heart where they wear green and gold….

Because now, there are people from Bunn who belong to me too.  And I remember countless happy memories.  I remember the way that Rafi, Freeman, Christian, and Jon led the baseball team with emotion and heart when Logan was a sophomore.  Man, they were fun to watch play.  I remember hugging Nick Williams after his last game ended in an unexpected loss, heartbroken for him, and not wanting to let him go.  I remember the support that Ricky gave Logan, and still does.  And I treasure that he made the trip to Logan’s Senior Night this year, just because he wanted to be there for him.  I love that I tell Brandon that he’s my favorite, and he knows it’s true, even though I say that to people all the time. I love that I still get texts from Hayley, and that Jordan “Crack” will always be the first kid I loved from that school.  I remember the countless kind words and actions from special people like the Timberlakes and Ortegas who didn’t have to accept us but did.  I love that in one short year, my Peyton and Cailyn also made lifelong friends.

And then there is the 2016 Baseball Senior Class. They were the class that adopted Logan when we moved.  They were among the people who embraced him.  And when I watch them play, I remember.  I remember Colton doodling a heart on one of Logan’s notebooks because, what else are teenage boys going to do in high school?  I remember Spencer teasing me and embarrassing me with the same silly humor that Logan has, because I am pretty sure they are the same person, and that as big as his baseball future is, he is incredibly grounded because of his selfless, humble parents.  I remember Tevin’s big hugs, and that Josh must get his warm personality from his sweet family.  I remember Ian’s hilarity and his mom’s friendship; I remember celebrating big plays with Quentin Sanders, and every kind and gracious word that the Medlins and McKeithans ever said to me.  I remember so much of each of them as they step up to do what they do:  Tevin, Spencer, Nick, Connor, Austin, Ian, Josh, Colton.  And it is with the love those memories stir up within me that I root for them with everything I have.

Do you see my dilemma?

What I have realized is, in the end, no matter what, I get to win.  For me, when it comes to this rivalry, it isn’t the battle that heightens these games into something deeper, richer, and more profound than the  W or the L.  For me, and for my family, that emotion and fun comes from the relationships we have been blessed with, and the remembrances of great times gone by.

Oh, but having said that, Go Heels!

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