College ball is unique and wonderful. I live for this week every year, especially when the Illini are at the top of the league. The ACC tourney is in town this week, which I didn't realize until I was walking with friends at lunch on Tuesday (my office is four blocks from the CapOne Arena downtown) and saw various pedestrians wearing the regalia of various teams. Went online and snagged lower bowl tickets to a highly entertaining Virginia Tech-FSU game on Weds at noon. Enjoyed it with my close friend who played for the Terps nearly 60 years ago and, sadly, pines for the ACC. He shares my late father's birthday and in a way fills the void my dad left. He's pushing 80 and loves the game and its lore as I do. Listening to him describe playing in Clemson's smoke-filled tobacco barn arena in '66 (when I was two months old) gives me chills.
My dad passed 20 years ago this coming summer and would have been 100 next month. He was a Southern gentleman of honor and few words, having endured an unimaginably hard childhood, but when we sat in the arena together watching OSU basketball, or in the living room watching sports, none were needed. I miss him every day.
Last Saturday I got up early and took my daughter back to VT after spring break where we attended the VT-Notre Dame men's game. I couldn't get her interested in sports as a child, and had no success during her freshman year encouraging her to dive into Hokie nation and attend football and basketball games. I kept telling her "these are your people, these are your teams, this is your community." But then she finally did last September as a sophomore. One dose of
Enter Sandman at a Saturday night Labor Day weekend game in Lane Stadium and she became a monster. Sitting with her in Cassell Coliseum last Saturday afternoon as she taught me the Hokie cheers and customs, as she asked insatiably about fouls and high ball screens and cheered with mad elation, I thought of my dad, how he died when she was only three months old and never met her, how she favors him, and how he would have cherished her and she him. He was sitting there with us, silent and satisfied in this communion like no other. I felt no sadness, only gratitude and peace. It was intense. And this game we love gave me that experience that I'll now treasure in the virtual locket I carry through life. I drove the four hours back home up I-81 in the driving rain and relentless truck convoys, having gotten only five hours of sleep the preceding night, feeling pure joy and exhilaration all the way.
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Donned my O&B polo shirt on an unseasonably warm DC day this morning, pulled on my lucky Illini basketball socks, and am ready for the 18:30 tip enjoying the game with good friends, one of whom is from Serbia and has never seen a college basketball game.
No matter what happens this month I give thanks for the team we've enjoyed since BU assembled it last June. Much more than that, I give thanks for this game. These games that bind us, that bring my Serbian friend a step closer to being an American. The anticipation of the season, the ups and downs, so many victories. I have faith there's more to come. Our guys have worked incredibly hard, which I never forget, even when I'm shouting at the TV in a bar for someone to please GO TO THE FREAKING BALL when Justin is trying to inbound it.
I get a bit emotional when I think of the great fortune I had to attend UIUC and the indelible mark the campus, the Big Sky, my friends, and the school made on my soul. I'm thankful for what Dan has created here for all of us in the Illini community to enjoy. It's a wonderful part of my life. We're fortunate beyond words to have enjoyed the show that TSJ, Marcus, CoHawk and their teammates have put on this year. The pipeline is primed (Canadian or not) and I'm hopeful that our program will roll on through the sunny uplands it has finally reached after several years careening through dark valleys.
We love no other so let our motto be: victory Illinois varsity.
