This is the week when traditional rivalries used to dominate the headlines, but no longer. We have Lewiston at Edward Little … and … and … well, no offense to Poland and Gray-New Gloucester, but when that is the second most bitter gridiron grudge on the docket, it’s safe to say times have changed.
Mt. Blue-Skowhegan and Mountain Valley-Spruce Mountain are relationships of geographical convenience more than games that inspire pyrotechnics at pep rallies and the spray-painting of the opponent’s goalposts in your own colors. Not that we endorse such behavior.
Interesting that Leavitt has taken the place of Thornton on Biddeford’s schedule, at least for this two-year classification cycle. It should be a heck of a football game, but since it’s the first time the two schools have played in each other in anything besides hockey, it’s hardly fit to be classified a rivalry.
Do you think this whole discussion is symptomatic of living in the past? As I think about it, I’m leaning toward the idea of football rivalries being more outdated than the two-party system. Elements such as social media and summer 7-0n-7 leagues keep all these kids in constant contact throughout the calendar year. They learn to like and dislike one another to a relatively healthy degree.
Athletes have adapted more quickly than journalists and parents, I think. We’re nostalgic for the faraway universe in which we grew up. They just enjoy playing and winning. What passes as a rivalry for them is any game in which both teams are good and are a threat to one another in the standings. Bonus points if there’s a playoff rematch every year. Surely that is how Mountain Valley and Cape Elizabeth became “rivals,” as did Leavitt and Mt. Blue for a short and glorious time.
What’s your take, chief? Are rivalries dead? Have they been redefined? Or do they still exist, simply falling victim to my curmudgeonly habit of overlooking them?
Pelletier: Rivalries in the traditional and (to use a word you tried to avoid) outdated sense are dying. I don’t know that we can declare them dead just yet, at least not across all sports.
And perhaps not in football.
You are right, though (Jeepers that makes me shudder): The prevalence of summer leagues and the general offseason camaraderie of specialty camps within the sport have made for a much different atmosphere among the athletes, particularly in neighboring towns or similar and shrinking socio-economic status.
Part of that can be blamed on the necessary consolidation of geographically close, cash-strapped districts. Jay vs. Livermore begat Jivermore, also known as Spruce Mountain. Scratch one bitter rivalry from the list.
Rumford vs. Mexico back in the day? Hello Mountain Valley. And in other sports, Mountain Valley and Dirigo? Pay attention, River Valley friends, that day is not too far off.
But back to the original question: Lewiston/Edward Little is a rivalry that won’t die completely. Consider it the “zombie rivalry,” because no matter how many times you try to bury it, it will continue to live in some shape or form. One of the reasons it has lacked the old luster is its lack of meaning in the overall standings in recent years. But there is still fuel on that fire. At least for now.
I think the bigger question now is: What exactly is a rivalry? And does it matter whether they exist at all?
Oakes: I used outdated. OK, I only said it once, but still.
Not sure if it “matters” to the extent that it takes away anything tangible from the games. They go on. They’re fine. But football is one sport in which a legitimate rivalry adds something to the atmosphere.
You know that from hockey. Step into the rink and you can feel with your eyes closed whether St. Dom’s and Lewiston are playing that night or not. It’s the same at a Dirigo-Mountain Valley or Winthrop-Boothbay basketball game, at least in a winter when the teams are at equal strength. In the latter case, the schools are an hour apart, so proximity has nothing to do with it.
To paraphrase what the Supreme Court justice once infamously said about, ahem, something much different than football: I can’t define it, but I know it when I see it. And I no longer see it with frequency, which in this season of falling leaves and plummeting temperatures only adds to my seasonal depression. Sigh.
Pelletier: Cheer up, big guy … Girls’ hockey practices start in nine days. (But who’s counting?)
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