“Play to win; don’t play not to lose.” In high school I played on a basketball team with an outstanding number of losses. Our post game discussions in the locker room usually included comments on how we would never win a game if we didn’t believe we could do it.

“I want to see some fire out there,” my coach would bark. “You guys acted like it was over before you even set foot on the court!”

We would all listen, go home, then come back the next game and play exactly the same way all over again. We never learned. We also never won.

Veishea was officially noted a “success,” according to the organizers. No riots, no fatalities, no major problems — and no fun, according to the word on the street. What was the problem? Instead of playing to win this weekend, Veishea was trying its hardest not to lose.

It makes sense, I suppose. I can’t imagine any student on campus wanting Veishea to bring about the loss of another life, the loss of a license or money because of drinking, or even the loss of the whole celebration. In that sense, ISU won. According to the cuff ’em and stuff ’em stats in Monday’s Daily, arrests decreased by 300 compared to last year’s event.

Somehow, the victory seems empty. I’m not insinuating we must have problems plaguing the festival to truly enjoy ourselves or that wild, boorish crowds equal eternal happiness. Yet my feelings can best be described in a Billy Joel-esque kind of way — I’d rather laugh with the sinners than die with the saints.

Veishea went through the motions this weekend. Meanwhile, authorities and organizers held their breath to see if all their careful plans and rules would work. I only hope these regulations don’t scare away all the sinners, because when they stop coming the saints might follow suit.

The most fun part of Veishea for me was always the people. I remember waltzing up and down Welch Avenue my freshmen year, gnawing on a turkey leg and seeing almost every person I had ever met in my entire life. People from all over the state and even a few from farther away were all focused on a couple blocks in the center of Campustown. I was thrilled! I was enraptured with the excitement! Old friends meeting new friends! Dodging old boyfriends, scouting out potential new ones, talking with complete strangers — it was an extrovert’s dream.

Taste of Veishea left a bit to be desired this year. Instead of a constant stream of people on Welch, it sounded more like a medium-sized trickle. I received e-mail from friends who do not belong to the “Cyclone Family” to inform me they would not be coming from out of town this year. They heard Veishea would bite the uninebriated big one. Those nasty out-of-towners are the ones who cause all the trouble (or so we like to believe), but their presence also creates part of the fun.

We may even have problems getting our own people to stick around. Some students simply packed up and left town for weekend, rather than enjoy the sober side of Veishea. Just like fans are hard to come by when the chips are down for an athletic team, people are not going to come to something if they don’t believe it’s going to be fun. By taking away the people, we in a sense take away from some of the tradition.

Do the new nonalcoholic rules mean doomsday for the 76-year tradition? Not necessarily. Good attendance at Dew the Rec and Rock Veishea may encourage organizers to keep it up and work on getting even better acts for next year’s celebration. A lot of people had a very fun time this weekend. Perhaps next year we can find a way to convince others to continue to join us for our university party that serves mocktails and cola instead of cocktails and beer. Perhaps getting the entire student population to believe that it’s possible is the first step — then we can tackle the rest of the world.

A Time For Change was the theme of the weekend, and Veishea has definitely reached a turning point. The administration, police crews and, most of all, the Veishea committees can breathe out slowly, knowing that the students didn’t blow it. They didn’t blow it this time, that is. What happens next year? If this not-losing attitude keeps up, Veishea could end up like my basketball team, with a pathetic record of 0-18.

If Veishea wants to survive, keep playing it safe. If Veishea wants to succeed, start playing to win.

Joanne Roepke is a senior in journalism and mass communication from Aurora.