A day of mourning: Farewell, Pac 12; Good bye to our family dog

Sports and non-sports intersect. Pac-12 melts down, and our beloved Cooper is gone

Shocked. Angry. Frustrated. Confused. In a sudden change of direction nearly overnight, the Pac-12 Conference went from being one of College Sports’ Top Leagues to a shadow of its former self—as Oregon and Washington declared their intentions to join the super-sized Big 10 conference, following on the heels of UCLA and USC in joining the monster league, making them the 17th and 18th members. Timing and exact details are coming for the conference’s pending death, but seem academic at this point. In fact, the response to the news about the Pac-12 has been much more emotional than fact-based.

The planned departure of the Ducks and Huskies leaves the Pac-12 with one-third (more or less) of the membership it had just a few weeks ago: Oregon State and Washington State, Cal and Stanford are still in; Utah, Arizona, Utah, and Arizona State are all reportedly looking to depart for the Big 12.

The rapidity of the Pac’s virtual dissolution left many fans (me included) shocked. The initial loss of the Los Angeles schools months ago was taken in stride, but UO’s and UW’s leaked exit in recent days was sudden, perhaps driven by the proposed Pac-12 media package that went all-in with Apple. I love my Mac computer, but the Apple platform is not ready for primetime in some respects. I probably still would have signed up for it, but not everyone likes the Apple-Sports connection at first glance.

Many are angry about the lack of rationality involved with the Big-10 defections. Sure, the departing teams will get more money in their new conference, but at what cost? What manner of travel will the teams have to endure to compete in the Eastern and Central time zones? And an 18 team league? How often will your college be in the running for a playoff spot? How will your team compete against the high flyers of the Big 10—Ohio State, Michigan and the like?? The extra cash from television revenues is enticing, but the other costs long term could be more excessive over time.

The frustration associated with this meltdown of the Pac-12 is directed at Oregon and Washington, closely followed an earlier declaration by Colorado. No specific names can be identified, but when Colorado bolted suddenly, and the Ducks and Huskies left right on their heels, it was done with what appears from here—a knee jerk response. No apparent consultation with their Pac-12 peers, just a dash for the door. Those responses aren’t cool or calculated, just opportunistic. And that stinks. Between the media money and the NIL deals brewing for players, college sports and their fans are in unfamiliar territory. No telling what happens next. And that is frustrating.

This sudden collapse of the Pac-12 was also confusing—with many unanswered questions. Why did did the latest teams leave so abruptly, and make the “announcement” so close to the start of the season? I am sure the storylines will be shared over time—but so much of the decision making doesn’t seem to involve actual logic or common sense. It again appears to be all about the money.

The pending death of the Pac-12 is tragic. The issues surrounding the conference’s demise are numerous. And the folks most hurt by it all are the fans, and those who work at sports events at the member schools. And the athletes who had signed up to play Pac-12 sports and now face an unfamiliar landscape. After more than one hundred years, major college sports on the West Coast has been reduced to metaphorical rubble. There will be plenty of tears shed before it is all over.

The future of the remaining Pac-12 teams remains very much up in the air. And it is sad that the team supporters have been left with nothing but questions about what comes next.

The rapid Pac-12 implosion is much like an apocalyptic movie where cities and towns everywhere have suddenly been annihilated, leaving dazed survivors wandering the landscape in all directions.

We all want to know what’s next. But first, the dust needs to settle.

Death on a more personal note—In Memoriam

My wife and I—and my children are still in mourning about the loss of our longtime dog, Cooper. The two toned (beige-brown) mini-doxie was put down July 15 after dealing with significant health issues in the days before his demise. I wrote a letter to our pup (on Facebook) to help me deal with the loss. Here is most of that letter:

Today I had to do the hardest thing I have ever done on my own. I took you to the vet and helped you cross the rainbow bridge at the ripe old age of 14.

Cooper Gilman. 2009-2023

After an overnight episode a week ago that left you unable to walk in a straight line and eliminated your appetite, we went to the doctor to chat about your situation. We suspected a stroke based on the evidence, but the wiser practitioners of science suggested it could be something like an inner ear issue that left you so unsteady.

We got purchased meds, took you home, and looked for healing. Eventually, you were able to stand on your feet, but could only walk in short bursts on the floors--not so in the uneven backyard.

For three days, you laid in your bed and refused water. You took minimal amounts of liquid over two days, then stopped again. Food was never eaten. We had to pick you up to get to the water and to pee outside. A canine invalid.

So today--this Saturday--I took you back to the doctor for the final act. My lovely bride and your "mom" was getting ready for a bridal shower for one of our daughters and so it was just me and you.

You laid in your bed on the seat next to me, only struggling once to look out the window when we had an extended traffic signal. You licked my hand as you were being petted, and I almost started crying right then and there.

I gathered you into your long-loved bed blanket and took you inside. The clinic staff quickly got us into a waiting room.

They came to retrieve you for a minute to install a catheter. After returning you to the table, the doctor came in a moment later--with three vials to inject into your tiny veins. The first put you to sleep and I saw your body relax for the first time in days. Then vials B and C were administered, the doctor checked your heart and confirmed you were gone.

I cried for probably a minute afterwards, kissed your lifeless body on the head, and returned to the car. After being warned it might happen again, I sat for another minute or so to let my eyes leak freely. The drive home was mind numbing.

Now that I have been back at home for maybe an hour, I seemingly hear you scratching at the back door, wanting back inside. I still look over at your crate, half expecting to see you laying there as you did for so many years... it is just too quiet.

There are so many stories to share about you, Coopy. The way you would put the leash in your own mouth and saunter to the front door in anticipation of your 30 minute walk. The times you got loose outside and worked your way through gaps between house fences to get a block away from us instantly. Your begging for food and treats--on a constant basis. The times you would fall asleep on my lap as I laid back in my recliner.

I miss you so much, Cooper. You were a good boy.

Dad

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