Welcome to Arizona, son. Now pick: University of Arizona or Arizona State University. Your wardrobe, your friends and your future could depend on it…
Shit, 37 years ago I picked ASU. Seemed obvious. My grandfather retired to Sun City. My sister went to ASU. I was following them just to get the fuck out of Akron, Ohio.
Paid my $30,000 and only 20 years later I had two degrees. (Yeah, fuck you, I’m stupid OK?)
About 10 years ago, I got a job at UA and moved (during the week) to the Dirty T. Weekends I’m back in Phoenix. So I’m like Missouri during the Civil War. Half the time with the north (Arizona State) and half the time with the south (Arizona).
My new friends at the Third-World Tennis Club demanded to know: “are you a fan of the world renown University of Arizona or do you follow the teachers college in Tempe that will admit anyone with a pulse and a line of credit.”
My old friends in Phoenix don’t give a shit. Only the “little sister” ever thinks the rivalry is important. Tucson people are obsessed with Phoenix – constantly talking about how hot, crowded and awful it is in the Valley of the Sun.
People in Phoenix think about Tucson about as often as people without toe fungus think about toe fungus.
So my answer:
I’m a proud alumni of ASU. I went to several classes with Sparky the Sun Devil mascot, and paid every penny of my tuition on the last day of each semester just before they kicked me out.
But the UA President signs my paychecks, so I’m with Wilbur — loyal to the UA Wildcats (as long as the checks clear.)
Categories: Tales of Tucson