It hit us hard Friday. Hit us like a watermelon to the midsection.
The new Cy-Hawk Trophy. We didnít believe it when it was unveiled Friday at none other than the most sacred patch of land within our borders, the Iowa State Fair. We didnít want to believe it. Surely no collection of suits would impose such an unjust thing on the people. We work hard, pay our taxes, mind our own business. We get knocked down, but we get up again. Youíre never gonna keep us down. Thatís what we always sang, thatís what we always felt. But this, this seemed too much to take Ö
And yet, we summoned the strength to fight. The realization of what was being done to us, what was forced upon us, was too much for decent people to accept. So we protested in the streets. We went to the airwaves and the bandwidth. Mr. Iowa Corn Growers Association, tear this trophy down, we shouted.
The rallies themselves were liberating. A state-full of people had bonded to pursue something bigger than themselves, an ideal that always has been and always will be worth striving to attain. Which is, of course, to not stand for a trophy for a football game that we think is silly.
The chants got louder. The drumbeat grew deafening. A revolution clearly was in the air. The governor, showing a keen sense of knowing which way the wind was blowing, leaped to the side of the people over that of the oppressors. (Although, he may have apology notes in the mail to the oppressors before the post office closes for the day.)
Clustered behind their stone walls and iron gates, the oppressors held emergency sessions on Day 4. They realized the people were getting stronger, angrier, and more convinced then ever of their purpose. You canít fight that. You can never fight that. So they called for a public meeting with the free press, or whatís left of it.
Today, the monstrosity of a trophy was laid to rest with the promise of a new trophy that will appease the masses. The people had won.
The air feels a little fresher and the food tastes a little better right now, doesnít it? Itís a lesson for future generations. When something matters deeply enough, you fight. And nothing matters more than a football trophy.