As a Saint Joseph’s University student, I had three pursuits, writing poetry, chasing girls, and learning to hate Villanova. The first worked well, as I finished my Bachelor’s program with an English degree. Two years ago, I added a Master’s degree to my wall. Fate thwarted the second quest, but my marriage renders frustration from a decade ago trivial.
While having an interest in writing since age eight and being a heterosexual made the first two cinches to be passionate about, I needed help with despising Villanova. I knew all about the Holy War between my Hawks and the Wildcats, but my hate remained a puny seed for years.
Fast forward to this year. I perfected the formula for loathing the Mildcats: watching them! Formerly, I had just accepted that hate for the Radnor Township boys would come without full exposure to them, much like I developed dislike for Britney Spears just by hearing ten seconds of her first single. It seems the Mildcats listened to “…Baby One More Time” towards the end of the season, as they limped into the NCAA Tournament with a five-game losing streak.
Thank you, George Mason, for making it six. You hit the Mildcats one more time, indeed.
I am a realist. I know an NCAA Championship will not be coming to Hawk Hill anytime soon. My consolation is knowing one will not find residence at The Pavilion either.