In my four years as the sports editor for the  Post, I’ve never sat staring at a blank screen for more than a moment. Like so many of my classmates in the College of Letters and Science, writing has become second nature; whether I know what I’m writing about or not, I can at least spin a load of bull that makes it sound like I half-know what I’m talking about.

Today, not so much. Every semester, when one of my writers at the Post graduates, I have them write a farewell column to talk about their time here at UWM. Now, it’s my turn. Faced with this daunting task, I have so much to talk about, but nothing to say. I’ve taken some extra space in the Post this last week to go in-depth on topics I feel need the attention. This, however, is my farewell column, so I’m going to use it as space to reflect. I do have something to say.

I came to UWM in the fall of 2005 just as many of us did back then – I was rejected by UW-Madison, put on the waiting list for not having a score in the 30’s on my ACT or some travesty like that. The fact of the matter is I have always been a lazy student (hence the fifth year) and a cumulative GPA starting with a two doesn’t exactly scream summa cum laude. But I loved Wisconsin. I had a wardrobe that was about 50% Badger gear, I attended homecoming every year since I was a kid with family, and I even knew the words to “Varsity” when I was five years old. Needless to say, rejection was difficult to take.

My plan was simple – work hard in my first two years at UWM and take the automatic transfer so I could finally be at my second home. Being a big sports fan, I figured I would catch some games while on the east side; be a Panther while I’m here, but a Badger in waiting.

I liked UWM. It was my first semester when I considered myself lucky to have found a good school to fall back on, even though it wasn’t where I wanted to finish. When my first Wisconsin vs. Milwaukee basketball game came around, I was conflicted. I went to the game with a couple friends who were in school at UW and had season-tickets in the “Grateful Red” section. I wouldn’t have been able to go back to UWM if I was decked out in a Badger jersey at the game – it’d be like denying my (albeit hopefully temporary) identity, so I wore plainclothes. I took no sides, not for where I was, or where I wanted to be.

It was a back and forth game. The Panthers were a damn good team, coming off a Sweet Sixteen appearance and chomping at the bit to get their first victory in Madison since 1992. The Badgers, on the other hand, lost to eventual national champ North Carolina in the Elite Eight, a result that led me to be sour for a week in my senior year of high school. My neutral identity allowed me to watch the game without getting too emotional, although I thought the refs were pressured unfairly by the crowd into favoring Bucky. When head coach Rob Jeter, an assistant in Madison only eight months prior, got whistled for a technical with less than five minutes to go in an extremely close game, I lost it. I bellowed “That’s bullshit!” at the court, causing about 20 rows of Grateful Red in front of me to turn around in confusion.

“We’re getting screwed,” I told my friend Eddie. As soon as the words escaped my mouth, I realized that I had referred to the Panthers as ‘we.’  I have never been so happy to be called an “asshole” by 200 people in my life. But there I was, finding out something about myself.

The fact of the matter is, I identified with the team that got screwed over on that call. I maintain that Kevin Massiah’s dunk in Brian Butch’s face was most definitely not a charge, but had it not have happened, I might have left that game still preparing for a transfer. I got the grades for the automatic transfer that next year, but there was no moving to my second home, because I was already there.

I realized that for all the homecomings I went to, for every time I sang “U-rah-rah Wisconsin” or the two Jim Leonhard jerseys I wore almost constantly (home and away), my relationship with UW was very one-sided. It was a school that I loved unequivocally, but when the time came to take me in, it didn’t love me back.

I wasn’t alone in this. UW-Madison is one of the most selective public schools in the country, seemingly impossible for many prospective college students who grew up much like I did in the state of Wisconsin. Out of that selectivity, the University of Wisconsin-Milwaukee has become what UW and its alumni always feared: a second flagship institution. That selectivity has changed things in this state.

UW-Madison hugs the capitol, yet more students from Dane County attend Milwaukee. More Wisconsinites attend Milwaukee than any other school, including Wisconsin. Most importantly, more of our graduates stay home in Wisconsin than any other school. Yet UW-Madison’s endowment is ten-fold what we have on the east side. Their campus is also ten times the size of ours, yet they retain land-grant status just in case they need to stretch out a bit more. It’s not like we could use that status to fix our cramped campus or anything.

So my love for UW-Madison, over time, became an equal and eventually more powerful connection with Milwaukee. I owe a lot more of my future success (hopefully) to Milwaukee than to Madison. The same goes for all of us Panthers.

Is that my fault, for not applying myself in high school?  Absolutely, but that slacker attitude brought me to my real second home, a place I call Alma Mater, the place that loved me back. I’d like to take this time to thank the good folks at Rockstar Games for ensuring my eyes were glued to Grand Theft Auto rather than Great Expectations while I attended Nathan Hale in West Allis.
When I sat down at the computer, ready to pump out one more column, I wanted to send a message to every part of the UWM community who reads my ramblings: students, faculty, alumni, and neighbors. That message is simple: cherish your time spent at UWM, and be loyal to Milwaukee as Milwaukee has been loyal to you.

People often talk about how we don’t have a “real” university. That’s garbage. We have world-class faculty, a very large and successful alumni base, and a student body with many bright futures ahead. So don’t sell yourself or our Alma Mater short. Don’t shy away from being a fan of the Panthers if you enjoy sports. Just because we’re playing UIC and not Illinois doesn’t mean the game is any less exciting or the rivalry is any less intense. The love and loyalty you put into the Milwaukee Panthers will be rewarded in the long run; ask anyone who waited decades for our Sweet 16 run, and they’ll tell you they wouldn’t trade the experience for anything in the world.

If we’re ever going to shed the unfair reputation as a safety school, support of athletics is key. We need tangible support as a unified community, and the fact of the matter is we’re not going to get thousands of people to show up and watch someone take a physics exam. Athletics, while many see it as a waste of money, is the key to a better and brighter future for UWM. Is it the only way to pluck that chicken?

Of course not; continued investment in academics is our mission, and always most important. But a great athletic program is the best marketing a university can get. For one week in March of 2005, the entire country was talking about UWM. That fall, I came into a school of 26,000 students. That number is now flirting with 32,000.

So as I step away from the news desk, I want to thank the people who have helped me find myself at UWM. Thanks to Rob Jeter and the coaching staff of men’s basketball, for building the program we love the right way, from the ground up. Thanks to Sandy Botham, for always being a great quote, an unmatched cheerleader for Panther Athletics, and such a good person. To every one of the employees in the athletic department, for almost always keeping open doors and greeting me with a smile and candid discussion. To every student-athlete whose tireless effort on the field of battle gave me inspiration and joy probably too many times for my GPA to handle. I can’t forget the parents of those student-athletes, who always supported the students that cheered on their sons and daughters, and defended us when we probably took the taunts too far.

To George Koonce, who did not accept our status as a “mid-major,” and did not shy away from trying to change that. I would be remiss to not extend my thanks to everyone who worked with me at the UWM Post, as my times in Union EG80 are some of the happiest of my entire life. Thanks to alumni and fans who helped foster Panther Pride in me. While they’re too numerous to name completely, I did want to thank Bob and Beth Altman, John Bartel, Paul Spicuzza, Fran Deisinger, Lou Weiher, Tom Sczerbiak, David and Lori Nicholas, the Van Dusens, Tom Hecker, Gerard Randle, and coach Dye in name.

There’s no forgetting the Klotsche Krazies, or Jeter’s Jungle, or the Panther Pack. Those students who shared my love for the Black and Gold made my time cheering on Milwaukee so much better. They preceded me – Mike Kennedy, Mike McMillan, Josh Bass, Nick Hoffman, Devin Kack, Ben Goodhue, and Justin Einerson. And they take over for me as I graduate – Travis Wacker, Korry Bertram, John Parker, Keerin Pinch, Jose Matamoros, and Derick Kelly are just a few of many.

Most of all, I want to thank Bud Haidet. It was shortly after his retirement announcement that I admitted to him, in an interview, that my dream job was the one he had performed so well for twenty years at UWM. Instead of continuing, the five-minute interview turned into a three-hour discussion of my future and what I needed to do to become the Athletic Director of the Panthers. He truly cared about me and my future, just as he did about the people who worked hard for him over the years. I don’t believe there’s an AD in the history of college sports with a better batting average at hiring coaches than Bud.

Lastly, I want to thank you. It takes a lot of courage to stomach reading a textbook, but a lot more courage to read my weekly garbage. Thanks for allowing me to share my ideas and stories about the Milwaukee Panthers with you since I stepped on campus in September 2005. It’s a time of my life that I will never forget, and I am beyond fortunate to have that time chronicled in the pages of the UWM Post. So, one last time, I proudly exclaim:

Fight! Fight! For UWM!