Laying our eggs in the wrong nest

Time our Sea-Hawks dug into wormier ground

By Paul Hussey

Perhaps it was a dream, or maybe even a vision, but I recall overhearing a most interesting conversation between a couple of real live Sea-Hawks the other day – wings, feathers, and all.

They appeared to be an old married couple, if one can make such a bizarre claim of birds. And, as they landed near where I was standing, I listened in to hear what they were saying (which, I might add, was surprisingly in plain English!)

“Fine ol’ day out ain’t it, Mary, m’dear?” chirped one Sea-Hawk to his lady friend.

“Well, if you’re talking about the weather, then I suppose you could say so, Walter,” she replied reluctantly.

“What does ya mean by dat?

“You know very well what I mean,” she responded sharply. “You’ve been ignoring their performance for too long, and haven’t done a damn thing about it.”

And as they carried on, I began to understand what they were talking about. As I listened, I learned that their offspring, the young Sea-Hawks who had been raised to perform at an elite level in university sports, had failed miserably to do so.

“I ‘ave nat!” shouted Walter, the elder, yet stubborn Sea-Hawk who had once been an athlete himself. “But what am I to do about it? All we needs is time – a few more years to let ‘em develop and—”

“You’ve been saying that since they started, and every year since! My patience has run dry.”

“So whaddaya think we oughtta do about it den, Mary?”

“We need to stop laying our eggs in the wrong nest.”

Suddenly, right before my eyes, two giant nests, each constructed of nature’s twigs, bark, and branches, appeared: One was labelled “Status Quo,” with six eggs representing basketball, soccer, volleyball, swimming, cross-country, and wrestling; the other was tagged “Change,” and had three eggs – hockey, rowing, and rugby.

“What is dis,” demanded Walter, the befuddled bird, “some sorta joke?”

“No, Walter,” replied Mary. “Can’t you see what’s wrong here? We keep hatching eggs in the wrong nest. We’re forcing our young ones to grow up and take part in sports they’ll rarely ever succeed in. Not only that, we’re keeping them from sports that they’d be better suited for.”

“Hogwash! Wha’ udder sports cood dere possibly be besides de ones dat we already funds and supports? Surely none that Newfoundland Sea-Hawks cood succeed in.”

“And that’s where you’re wrong! Don’t you remember that for hundreds of years the fisherman rowed their dories here?”

“Yeis,” he sighed, “but what does dat ‘ave to do wit’ enneyting?”

“Rowing! Us Sea-Hawks have been rowing in the Regatta for nearly 200 years. Then of course there’s rugby – we always do well in that, having won countless medals and trophies. Plus, both of these sports have won the Atlantic University Sport Championships, which would have counted under a varsity banner if we could have only sanctioned and supported them!”

“But … dere nat baskeetball er saccer,” sighed Walter reluctantly. “I never did none o’ dem udder sports – what would de committee an’ d’administration tink?”

“Oh forget about those old kooks that you crawl on your knees for! They’ve got their heads so far up their rear ends they don’t know whether their shit comes out of there or their mouths anymore. And I haven’t even gotten started on hockey yet.”

“Hackey too?

“Yes, of course. There are countless players talented enough to play at an elite level and achieve a winning record. Plus, this would bring in a ton of revenue for the program, especially if corporate sponsorships got on board, while bringing a sense of pride back to the varsity program. We’d be the best at something for once.”

Then there was a short silence, as Walter, the outwitted bird, searched for the words to counteract Mary’s impressive argument. He scratched his feathers for a moment and grinned before replying, “We can’t affoard it. It’s juss nat in are budjet.”

“Strange that you should say that, Walter; you can afford to lose games, but not to take a chance on something surely better than what we have?”

“It’s nat wittin’ my powers to—“

“To make anything good happen around here.”

With that, Walter flew over to the two nests and picked both of them up in his beak: one was placed on a golden pedestal, and hermetically-sealed within a plastic case; the other was dropped onto the concrete, killing any chance of something good happening in our nest any time soon. And that, is the truth of it.

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