This summer, I left the house of a high school friend for the last time ever.
His younger sister was finally headed off to college, so the family decided it was time to move.
I’ve known him for the last 15 years of my life, and since high school, that house has become something of a second home.
It was always the reliable hangout spot when there was nothing particularly exciting going on. It was a place where my friends and I would do nothing but play Xbox, eat homemade cookies and talk until late at night. Then we would drive home feeling like we had still managed to make something out of the weekend.
It was the site of four consecutive fantasy football drafts, many memorable low-stakes poker games and thousands upon thousands of dumb jokes beaten into the ground.
It was a home away from home, the place apart from my own house where I spent the most time.
So when we found out that we were going to his house for the last time ever, we chose not to send it out with a bang. We didn’t throw a big party. We didn’t blare music and invite girls over, hoping something memorable might happen.
We did what we’ve always done.
We told those same stupid jokes. We played four hours of FIFA. And we ate cookies. When we left, we left for good, talking as usual about where we would go out the following night, but always conscious of the fact that wherever we went the next night, the night after that or any other night, we would never return to the house on Stella Street.
I knew the somber feeling of that realization was part of growing up, as cliché as that sounds. I knew that as time went by, friends would eventually start moving away, their families would sell their houses and our paths would drift apart. But this vague notion that I was somehow growing more mature through this event was of little comfort to me.
Then something dawned on me.
At first it almost seemed inappropriate to be thinking about sports at such a time. But I remembered that sports, particularly at the college level, behave in a similar way.
As sports fans we form a bond, sometimes practically spiritual in nature, with a team or player. We build memories of that connection, that team’s achievements or that player’s incredible moments.
Then the very next year many of those same players have departed. New faces replace the old, rendering the team fundamentally different from the team we remember.
It’s all very reminiscent of the transition from high school through college and into adult life. You make a set of friends and share memories with them. But over time, even the closest of friends almost inevitably drift apart as people grow up, get jobs, start families and move on down different paths in life.
What we sometimes forget in these periods of transition, though, is that moving on from one set of memories means making a brand new one.
No, we won’t get to see Kris Burd haul in another touchdown pass or watch Cam Johnson put the fear of God in another quarterback’s heart or witness Chase Minnifield streaking down the Scott Stadium sideline with a ball he stole from an opposing receiver ever again. We won’t have the privilege of hearing the snap of the John Paul Jones Arena net as another silky-smooth Mike Scott jumper hits its target.
There are countless Virginia sports moments we’ll never get to experience again.
But it’s a new year, which means new teams, and with them, new moments — new memories.
Maybe it’s going to be Perry Jones sprinting toward the end zone as Virginia sticks the dagger in the heart of yet another highly ranked opponent who didn’t take the Cavaliers quite seriously enough.
Maybe when it comes time to hit the hardwood once more, we’ll be treated to stunningly athletic slams from newcomer Justin Anderson or a breakout year from Jontel Evans as he takes on the responsibility of leading the team.
Maybe someone entirely unexpected will wow Cavalier fans this year on the gridiron, the court, the diamond or the pitch.
Perhaps when we look back on 2012-13 in Virginia sports, we’ll remember it as a waiting period — one that was hard to stomach but ultimately made the next set of fond memories that much sweeter.
The truth is that I don’t know what new Virginia sports memories we are going to make this year. All I know is that I can’t wait to find out.
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