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On Being Somebody Somebody Loves to Hate
Nobody cares if a lovable loser loses.
No one celebrates the losses of inconsequential teams.
Although Liberty University is my alma mater, I cheer for the University of Texas Longhorns football program. My fandom goes back to my youth. It predates Earl Campbell but his ascension to college football immortality fueled and solidified it.
It has been a while since the Longhorns were in the mix for a national championship. After a long drought””they won their last national title in 2005″”they returned to national significance in the 2023-24 season, making the college football playoff for the first time since it was established.
Going into the game on Saturday, October 19, 2024, the Longhorns were ranked number one in the country. The week before, they posted a signature win against hated rival Oklahoma. They blew the Sooners out of the water, winning the game 34-3. They beat Michigan at the Big House in Ann Arbor, 31-12. They were ripping teams apart.
But then along came the Georgia Bulldogs. Arguably, Georgia has been the country’s best program over the past five years or so. They were not intimidated by 100,000 rabid Longhorns fans or the bright lights of a primetime game, these Bulldogs. They were still smarting over a loss to Alabama and out to prove they were not done yet. By halftime, Georgia was beating Texas 24-0. The Bulldogs beat my Horns by a final score of 30-15.
I was not surprised to see Facebook friends who are fans of other Texas programs (the kind that never threatens a national title) gleefully posting about the loss. With their “Horns down” finger signals, they danced all over the hurt feelings of disappointed Burnt Orange fans.
I don’t mind. I have done similar dances on the graves of my mortal football enemies. Just not their schools. Why? Because who cares? They are never in the way of anyone on their way to glory. Their teams are not the teams anyone loves to hate.
West Virginia is an unexpected and interesting Texas “rival.” West Virginia players flashed some “horns down” signs and it fueled the fanbase.
Sean Manning wrote a 2019 article on dominionpost.com (a West Virginia publication) about the strange attempt by West Virginia to provoke a rivalry. He wrote:
When David Sills flashed the horns down in front of 100,000-plus fans at Darrell K Royal”“Texas Memorial Stadium last November after catching a 60-yard touchdown, he started a movement that even he probably didn’t realize would become a rallying cry for West Virginia fans”¦
Upside down flags, car decals, and T-shirts featuring Texas’ logo have been spotted throughout Morgantown for months. Even someone inside the WVU football facility put the Texas game upside down on the Mountaineers’ schedule during spring camp.
But the real question is, why? Why has Texas become the school WVU fans have latched on to to be the next they hate? Morgantown and Austin, Texas, are nearly 1,400 miles away from each other. Before West Virginia joined the Big 12 in 2012, there was almost no connection between either program “” there was one previous game in the series during the 1940s and neither recruited the same area.
There are quite a few reasons the Mountaineer fan base wants to make this a rivalry, but the biggest is cause and effect from conference realignment. Whether you like it or not, the landscape of college football was drastically changed earlier this decade during the latest major wave of realignment, and no one may have been affected more than West Virginia.
The annual series with Pitt was gone, as were established series with other Big East schools like Syracuse and Louisville. In the mid-2000s, rivalries with Virginia Tech and Miami were also lost.
So when WVU joined the Big 12, it was the outcast that no one knew anything about. Geographically, the Mountaineers were the black sheep.
But WVU fans at heart love to hate others nearly as much as they love the Mountaineers. They desperately wanted to find a rival within the Big 12, but needed an excuse to pick one.
Remember, the article just cited is dated. A fresh realignment changes the landscape for Texas and West Virginia once again, which means the West Virginians will have to find some new big bully program to loathe.
I am writing about football but, believe it or not, I am here to make a point beyond football.
“Heavy lies the crown.”
That is a misquote of Shakespeare’s line from Henry IV, Part Two: “Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown”
We use the line today to describe the difficulties and burdens of leadership.
Jesus Christ said, “To whom much is given much is required.”
If you want the privilege of leadership, you must assume its expectations. People expect more of those who can do more and not everyone is pulling for your success. Misery loves company, especially the company of those it envies. Why do so many people hate the Yankees and couldn’t care less about the Mets? Why are the Dallas Cowboys among the most revered and reviled NFL teams? Why aren’t the Jets in that mix? Or the Cardinals?
Wear the Crown Anyway.
Early in my ministry, when I was still in my 20s and already a senior pastor, I found myself under attack from family members of the former pastor, an older gentleman who retired and left California for his home state of Indiana. He left behind a sister and brother-in-law and their progeny. That bunch soon became disenchanted with this kid preacher who, it turns out, wasn’t anything like their beloved brother/uncle/etc.
One of the deacons told me that the daughter of the old man who led the charge to get me out of town (the former preacher’s brother-in-law) was overheard saying about me, “That man makes my skin crawl.”
I have never forgotten that. I hadn’t done her any harm. I’d never had anyone before her nor anyone since (that I know of) say that about me.
It was my first taste of a truth I have repeated through the years to those who find themselves inexplicably and inexorably embattled for reasons they can’t quite grasp. The truth is this: No one has universal appeal. No one. You might think if anyone would, it would be Jesus Christ, who never did anyone anything but good, who loved the unlovely, who lifted the fallen, who freed the imprisoned mind, who made those on the fringe the mainstream. But no. He made enough people’s skin crawl to get Himself crucified.
The more you do, the more you have, the more likely others will resent you. They will be offended by your presence. They will diminish your successes. And, they will celebrate with Memes and high-fives your losses and setbacks.
Good!
Do it anyway. Win anyway. Succeed anyway. Lead anyway.
When I was a teenage preacher, one of my favorite preachers was the brilliant evangelist, Dr. B. R. Lakin. Born in West Virginia near the Kentucky border, the land of the Hatfield-McCoy feud, Lakin became a Christian convert at age 16. The nephew of Devil Anse Hatfield, the leader of the Hatfield clan in the famous feud, baptized Lakin. B.R. Lakin stirred an intoxicating blend of Appalachian wit and brilliant eloquence into every sermon.
Lakin was one of Jerry Falwell’s mentors and heroes. Falwell often found himself in the crosshairs of political and religious enemies. Dr. Lakin, preaching at Falwell’s Thomas Road Baptist Church in Lynchburg Virginia, said to Falwell, “If they’re kicking you in the butt that means you’re out in front. let ’em kick.”
I first heard Lakin preach at a convention to a couple thousand preachers. He talked about pastors of smaller churches ripping and tearing at those with larger ministries. He said, “If you can’t tree the possum, don’t shoot the dog that can.”
I have been a hater and I have been hated.
I prefer the latter because it means I did or became something someone cared enough about to hate.
Be something, do something, say something, write something, establish something, accomplish something”¦
Be somebody somebody loves to hate.