The last sheet falls off the calendar, and things are bound to change
Should old acquaintance be forgot / and never brought to mind?
New Year’s Day promises a clean slate, an imagined chance to leave the bad in the dim and dusty past and chase the ever-fleeting good into the future. Who doesn’t love the idea of a new start, untarnished by the failings of what was, and full to bursting with the promise of what could be? It’s a headier draught than the golden bubbles falling out of champagne flutes this evening, certainly; the intoxicating allure of hope, promising that if we would but follow, a better life awaits us on the next page of the calendar. Pay no mind to the usual suspects waiting in the wings, ready to ambush us as soon as we sit back down in our offices, or turn on our TVs, or tune in to our favorite sporting events.
Should old acquaintance be forgot, / and auld lang syne.
The truth is, tomorrow is no more or less special than any day that precedes or follows. We place an enormous amount of pressure on that one day, perched precariously as it is at the top of the calendar, to be the motivating force that pushes us back into the gym, or keeps us away from whatever bad habit we’re sure we’ll finally kick this year. All the fireworks in the world, all ringing in one specific midnight hour, still can’t harness the kind of magic we’re looking for.
For auld lang syne, my dear, / for auld lang syne…
Still, we celebrate. The dawning of a new year or the dawning of a new day, whichever you deem more worthy of celebration in that moment. Each with the same transformative power, not based solely on its position on the calendar or the clock, but rather on the space it gives us, in the midst of our messy little lives, to breathe. To take stock, fully, of where we are as it relates to where we would like to be. To try and make the changes necessary to bridge that gap. To hire a new offensive coordinator.
We’ll take a cup of kindness yet, / for auld lang syne.
Let it never be said that I was unduly harsh towards Coach Belichick. It’s the holidays, after all, and I recently had a spooky dream in which I encountered three spirits (all of whom agreed that last season was a wreck, for what it’s worth). There is every possibility that this offseason will prove to be transformative for the Tar Heel football team, that whatever mercurial magic that has pooled here at the bottom of the calendar will wind its way through the bleachers and concourses of Kenan Stadium, resulting in real and measurable change. It was obvious, after all, that something had to give after last season—and give it has. A new office plaque hangs now among all of the familiar (and familial) names that have offices in the Kenan Football Center. With the reported hiring of Bobby Petrino, Coach Belichick has made a big swing at attempting to correct an offensive unit that lived up to the other promunciation of “offensive” last season. As full of hope as I am for the far-flung future of 2026, I can’t look past the fact that the last two head coaches under whom Petrino has served as offensive coordinator were each fired before the season ended.
Time will tell if this change, in this season of such changes, will bring a resolution to the problem facing Tar Heel football, or if it will fizzle out, as so many New Years’ resolutions do.
Happy New Year, from our Tar Heel Blog family to yours.
Category: General Sports
