West High

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West, Our Alma Mater

by Robison Wells

Thomas Wolfe once wrote: "He saw now that you can't go home again--not ever. There was no road back." This was in Wolfe's book You Can't Go Home Again. It was dedicated to a son who had moved out, got his MBA, couldn't find a job and wanted to move back in. (His son's name was Rob.)

No, actually the quote refers to how things change and you can never go back to the way they once were. Heraclitus similarly said that "It is impossible to step into the same river twice." And thus ends my Wikipedia research into the topic.

What I actually want to talk about is how my wife and I went to our old high school's football game last week, and it was fairly disappointing.

Let me set the scene: we were going on a date, and we suffer from crippling, Dickensian poverty. So, why not go to a high school football game!? Also: I was suffering from crippling, Dickensian swine flu (aka "hamthrax"). So, why not go sit in the cold for several hours and cough on teenagers!? (Have no fear, however, because no teenagers were in attendance. More on that later.)

Here are the details. I went to West High School, which is the holiest of all high schools, as evidenced by the fact that President Monson also attended it. (Sidenote: President Monson also got an MBA from BYU.) (Coincidence??? I think not.) (What I'm saying is that he and I are somewhat academically similar in a few minor details.)

Anyway, back in the day (when I was a freshman), West High took state in football, and we were really awesome, and all other high schools bowed to us and left flowers on the front steps. Ever since then, we've kind of sucked. (Translated: we really really suck.)

In the local newspaper's football preview, they quoted a West High player as saying "We have the noodles, we have the cheese, we have the milk, we have the butter," Scott said. "We just need to get the temperature right and stir it. That's all we need to do." I think he makes an excellent point: West High is better at home ec than at football.

Anyway, last week's game was at Olympus High, which is a rich kid high school. They're a decent team, I guess, if you like winning. (The newspaper preview quoted the coach as saying "'That's definitely our goal here and that's the expectations of our community -- that we compete for a region and state championship,' Smith said.")

(Awesome sidenote: the top two notable Olympus alumni listed on Wikipedia are: Karl Rove and Mark Hoffman (murderer). Compare that to West's President Thomas S. Monson. I think we've learned an important lesson.)

So, we at least expected an exciting game, even though Olympus Titans were going to destroy the West High Macaroni and Cheeses. But what was the actual score? 7-6. But that's because it was a fierce defensive battle, right? No. It's because they both sucked.

Man, I haven't gone to a high school football game since I graduated oh-so-many years ago. Do they all stink like this? I swear that some of the players had never seen a football before, let alone contemplated what they were supposed to do with it.

This was exacerbated by refs who had apparently never watched a game. Now, I know that everyone complains about refs, but my complaining is 100% legitimate. Here's a question (because high school football rules might be different from college rules): can two personal fouls be called on the same team on the same play? And can the refs then give a 30-frickin'-yard penalty to that team? If so, that's crap. I mean, I don't doubt that the West High players were throwing punches; that's what we do over there. But 30 yards? That's ridiculous. (It was probably because our punches could have damaged the expensive dental work of the Olympus High Pretty Boys, and, as was readily apparent, the refs' sole responsibility was ensuring that Olympus suffer no harm whatsoever, physical, mental or psychological.) (West got a ten yard penalty for "Hurting the Feelings of the Passer".)

Anyway. The game wasn't the most appalling part of the evening. That honor is bestowed on the students in the crowd. (I'm defining "crowd" here as "three kids, not sitting next to each other".) I lay the blame for the lack of students solely on the shoulders of the Olympus student body. After all, it was an away game for West, and they suck, so you can't expect too many Macaroni and Cheesers to travel all the way across town. (I don't doubt many of them did, but then they decide to burglarize the rich people's homes instead of attend the game.)

Perhaps I'm being too harsh. By the end of the first quarter, there was a good little student section in the Olympus bleachers. They just weren't watching the game. When things would happen, good or bad, there was generally no reaction from the jabbering students. When Olympus scored a touchdown--and I'm not making this up--there was about a twenty second delay before the students cheered, because they weren't watching. (Here's my hypothesis: they were all looking at their phones, and one of their parents texted them that Olympus had scored. Then that student posted it as his Facebook status. That's how the others found out.)

(As a sidenote: here's one area where West was superior: cheerleaders. This isn't to say that West's cheerleaders were phenomenal, but I swear, I have never seen a more apathetic, uninterested bunch of cheerleaders than Olympus's. I promise this is true: at one point a little girl who couldn't have been more than four years old went out and stood with the cheerleaders--and she was more on-beat than sixty percent of them.)

(Another sidenote, which will probably cause embarrassment if any students google "Olympus High School Cheerleaders" and find this blog: my wife had to use the bathroom before the game and found herself in the restroom with the cheerleaders while they were doing their hair and painting their faces. One girl is reported to have said "I want to put Spencer's number on my cheek. But then everyone will think that I like him." Someone replied "You totally like him!" She said "I do not!" So, if Spencer is reading this: you've heard the absolute truth: just because she painted your number on her face, she doesn't really like you. Duh.)

Anyway. It was still loads of fun. And there was a parent behind us who kept shouting extremely violent advice to the West High players. That's what we do over there. It makes you wonder how President Monson turned out so good.