True Rivalry

Okay to start, I grew up in the suburbs of New York City. More specifically, a small town called Verona, New Jersey, with about 13,000 residents. I graduated in 2008, and spent 3 years attending Verona High School. Now to all of you locals of Clemson, or anyone whose neck is slightly red, sporting a confederate flag on your truck, or waiting anxiously for Nascar, I might say you ought to be offended. Verona Home School, a town just 20 miles outside the limits of New York City, is home to the Verona Hillbillies.

And like most sports team, we had a rival, the Cedar Grove Panthers, who we dominated (or were destroyed by) each and every Thanksgiving for as long as I can remember. And of course, you had some people, like me, who could really care less about, "caging the panthers," or defending oneself against a rival dressed in Carhartt overalls with straw in their teeth, and pretendng to be retarded. But you had others, who talked real big about trashing up each other's school, which town was stronger, encroaching fights between residents. It was all rather foolish to me.

Then I came to Clemson.

Maybe because I have been here for a little more than a month, and was not born and bred to be a Clemson Tiger, but honestly, the rivalry thing to me is nothing more than a few silly phrases hurled back between Clemson and Columbia. Or was, nothing more than trash talk, and the occasional chicken joke. Then I went to Columbia, South Carolina for the very first time.

One of my hall neighbor, who I will refer to as IQ, is part of the 'Divided House' thing, whereby her boyfriend goes to the UNiversity of South Carolina (USC, which is not to be confused with the REAL USC in Southern California.) She is one of those crazy Clemson fans that pretty much came out of the womb with stripes, and apparently nearly murdered her boyfriend when he announced his intentions of becoming a Gamecock. Even though the poor guy is not really that big of a fan of the Gamecocks, I do not think he can even bring up their games in front of her. I thought she was a little psycho at first, but the more I live here at Clemson, and encounter other fans, the more I realize she is pretty lame compared to some of the fans.

I am that girl from the North or everyone gets annoyed at with when I make fun of this silly rivalry. "Seriously, guys, it's football! Who cares? We have more things to worry!" Evil glares are thrown my way, followed by the occasional, "your not from around here," or, "just you wait till you begin to understand this rivalry." And of course, you have your real compelling argument, "Gamecocks SUCK!" I am not convinced, it's a game! Grow up people!

For his birthday, IQ decided to invite his friends, and some of her's to a Mexican restaurant in Columbia. She invited me along, originally out of pity, as the the girl with nothing else to do. It was a great opportunity for me, as well, because I love South Carolina with all of my heart, but have only seen the small town of Clemson. This, my friend, is not saying much in terms of knowing about your somewhat adopted state. Plus it was another opportunity to get the lay of the land. I finally figured out that Irmo and Greenwood were names of towns and not bugs, and Ninety-Six was not just a football play.

When we finally arrived in Columbia, I was pretty disappointed. Zaxby and IQ had spoke about how dirty, unsanitary, dangerous, and disgusting Columbia was. Apparently, homeless people could be found on every street corner, and crime and poverty is just lurking on every avenue. All I have to say is that I should have expected this from two girls that think the Clemson campus is dangerous, and carry Mace with them every where they go. Ya'll should not even think about coming to New York, is all I got to say about that.

But what did shock me was that, when we exited the car, just outside of the residence hall of IQ's boyfriend, something mind-blowing happened. Sure, we may have been asking for it, with the fact that each one of was in an orange tee-shirt, but even still! As the three of us walked along the sidewalk to the hall, a truck pulled up slowly behind us. Honking, the rolled down the windows and screamed,

"Wrong School, ass----" I'm pretty that if I could hear the rest of what they said, I would have been utterly baffled.

Seriously, people, are you telling me that I am not allowed in Columbia, because I go to Clemson? When we got into the safety, or lack there of, the USC residence Hall, we replayed our story for IQ's boyfriend and his roommates. They burst into laughter and told us it was our own fault.

I like to say I have seen it all, but then something like this comes along and completely shatters my faith in the human race. My fault? It's my fault that ya'll have nothing better to do with yourselves? And then, it came to me. Like a calling from the heavens, this statement materialized in my mind, and before I could begin to understand the repercussions  I entered face first into the rivalry.

"My fault? MY FAULT? Guess what? Your campus sucks! You all are the friggen' chickens, just because your mascot sucks, does not mean that's my problem. And guess what? EVeryone knows Clemson is better? Our campus is gorgeous, your's is like the projects. Our academics are better, and do not even try to argue that. Gamecocks suck."

I am now officially a Gamecock hater.