For the hazers, there won’t be any consequences.
No criminal charges, no names in lawsuits, no public shaming.
But I hope this whole mess causes them to feel a bit of guilt.
I doubt many people — even those doing the running — enjoyed doing it. What kind of twisted person enjoys putting on a freaky mask and humiliating someone weaker than them? But, f*ck, culture is powerful, and a handful loved it.
“Hey! Dudes! I don’t want to touch your d*ck on the way to the shower.”
“Shut up, freshman. That’s how we roll. Touch my d*ck.”
Anyway, I hope the perpetrators, and whoever’s idea it was to bring the masks into it, aren’t bullies anymore. Nobody likes a bully.
For all the back and forth over the last month — “why didn’t they tell?”; “why are the players pissed if it was so bad”; “who has denied it?”; “HE DIDN’T KNOW”; “life is tough, you think this is bad?” — ultimately, the program was undone by a culture that forgave, or allowed, or encouraged, or turned a blind eye to bullying.
It’s pretty sad. It sucks. And it is a failure of leadership.
All that said, I’ve been a Cats fan for 25 years — my first game was also Gavin Hoffman’s, a 41-7 victory over UNLV, and I didn’t have to look the score up. (I was local, so I parked on Sheridan, decamped to the student section, and stood in a row by myself because New Student Week was still days away.)
Most seasons, I’ve enjoyed being a fan. And, because life is about moments, the moments of greatness are what stick with you. (How nice it was to watch Pinstripe Bowl highlights this week, to relive peak JJTBC.)
In recent years, as life gets in the way, I’ve watched a little less, especially when they’ve been boring or terrible to watch. I probably only saw half of snaps last season.
(My worst Cats memory is attending a rainy outdoor Cats wedding, as we incredulously watched the Illinois State loss on the ESPN ticker. Never schedule a wedding on a college football Saturday, unless it’s against an FCS opponent, except when you’re a Cats fan.)
I don’t think this season will be much more fun than Gavin Hoffman’s. But I’ll still fly the flag on Saturdays, and I’ll still start every morning Expecting Victory. And, geez, I like Braun and I liked the new hires and I sure hope this team surprises me. (Chances: less than 5%.)
There is no thesis here. Mostly it sucks that being a fan has been so miserable these last few years, and it especially sucks that some people might look at that purple flag more negatively than they used to. (In the South, I usually got ‘what’s that flag anyway?’ Back in the Midwest, it’s been a nice point of conversation with my Hawkeye flag-flying neighbor.)
And it really, really sucks that this is what brought Fitz down. He deserved a statue. He’s a great Cat, with a flaw. And, while I think he was aware things happened in the locker room, I think he was probably unaware how bad it had gotten for some. And I know that nobody was willing to tell him.
(Maybe Yates or Long or Carnifax thought, one time, at their year-end Fitz meeting, that this would be the year they finally told him to do something about it.
“Thanks for talking to me, [player]. Anything else?”
“Well, Coach, it’s just that, it’s just that, naaah, nothing else.”
“Okay, hit the books, work in the weight room.” )
It’s a beautiful day outside and I’ve got a lawn to mow.
Aw f*cksh*t. Aw sh*tf*ck. Go Cats.
Also, f*ck Gragg with a broomstick.
