Author’s Note: Today’s GAZETTA does not focus on the Broncos qua Broncos, but more upon my relationship with the University.The readership will be familiar with portions of the following as the theme has been woven through past writings. Today it appears distilled, offered to the readership to inspire its reflection, comment and discourse.
PROLOGUE: A hot, desultory June day in 1968, somewhere near the Boise River. A confused youth of 16 appears, brand-newly transplanted from racy, vibrant LA to the near tomblike quiet of the River City. He stands looking perplexed at an odd clearing near Broadway Avenue. A chain link fence that may have encircled it is on the ground as if trampled. Corrupt wooden bleachers appear to have been randomly erected somewhere nearby to no discernible purpose. He asks himself “What is this? Where am I?”
ACT I: The same youth, having discovered that in fact this is the site where the Boise State College Broncos play football,attends a game in the fall of 1968. The game itself is only mildly diverting; the bevies of attractive young coeds and high school girls are a different story. His covetous eyes greedily take in their features, devouring every prominence, fold and nuance, whilst his febrile imagination conjures up visions of licentiousness involving their nubile young bodies. At the end, he barely remembers who won (Broncos). This association of sexuality and football would remain with him until his mid-50s.
ACT II : I arrive at Boise State to start spring semester in 1973. The previous year had seen my life completely fall apart to such an extent I attempted to end it; the scar from that attempt is still there. I am living with my parents,but they would never again contribute to my education.My father would make me leave their home at gunpoint at the end of the semester. And the worst was yet to come.I suffer from an ailment (bipolar) that appears to be oddly fashionable now, its title bandied about very glibly IMO. But in those days it was not understood, or even properly diagnosed; I was labelled a paranoid schizophrenic. I would go for a while, then collapse, each episode more dramatic and, for me, more discouraging than the previous one. Everyone gave up on me; some still loved me, and I can’t blame them for not understanding, not being able to witness me, in their minds at least, self-destruct. But each time I rebounded, somehow, and Boise State was there; even earning minimum wage, I could support myself, pay tuition, books, and even have a little fun now and then. I kept going. Boise State was always there for me, and watching the Broncos was an engaging and inexpensive past time. I became aquainted with the players I write about here and saw the transition, the true one, from JUCO to college level sports.
ACT III: Spring of 1977 finds me on campus at Boise State, embarking on my final campaign. The previous year I had been largely confined. But like the Russians in the spring of 1943, I had turned the corner; there would be losses and suffering, but I would continually move forward. I would complete my degree in 1978;my father and I were in cap & gown, he as faculty, me as prospective alumnus (we had a complicated relationship; OBNUG: “Duh!”).I attended law school where I would root for the Vandals (I said I was sick) unless they were playing the Broncos.
EPILOGUE: My evolvement to true Broncohood ends before most of the readership’s, to say nothing of the country’s, begins. I didn’t think, as recently as a few years ago, that we’d emerge into such athletic prominence. I haven’t forgotten my debt to the school;there is a music scholarship endowed by my family, but I know I owe more. This was harder to write than I imagined. I’ll have to ask the readership to match my intent to my result. I cannot be healed, but I can be helped. This helped.
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