Far above the golden valley….
I went to college in the only town in Kansas that isn’t overwhelmingly conservative. It is the most random place on earth. A little blue dot in a big red state. It is in the middle of a bunch of fields and 45 minutes away from the only big city. Lawrence. Otherwise known as “hippie-land” or the place where North Face fleece goes to die. But I loved it there. ‘Effing loved it. I spent four of the most fun, life-changing, dramatic, hilarious years in that town. That is the place where I grew up. I drove into that town as a 17-year-old, naive kid and left….well….I left a 22-year-old naive, kid, but I promise, there was a lot of growing in there too.
My dad went to college on a basketball scholarship. He never would have attended otherwise. He had no money, was the oldest of six kids, and was too smart for most of his teachers. But he was good at basketball. So good that he took a bus across town from the crap neighborhood he lived in to go to a private high school to play ball. And then was recruited to play at university. While there, he got a degree in biology, which would lead to him doing some of the most respected work in his field, working for NASA, and saving lives via cancer research. A poor kid from the ghetto was saved because of this game.
Basketball has been ingrained in my psyche since I can remember. I always knew it was partially responsible for who I was and how it affected our family. When I decided to attend the University of Kansas, it became even more prominent. A KU fan (especially a student or former student) is inundated with the history of the game from the day they walk on to campus. How the man who invented basketball was our first (and worst) coach. How we won the NCAA championship in overtime in 1952, and our coach was the greatest the game ever saw. How this coach still haunts our fieldhouse and we all need to “Beware of the Phog.” How in 1988, a ragtag group led by the best player in the league stunned the world with a win, therefore becoming “Danny and the Miracles.” After hearing all of this, plus the rock chalk chant eerily echoing of the walls of Allen Fieldhouse, how could I not be moved?
So, yes, this game means more to me than it probably should. And in college, it was a huge part of my life. I’m not one to write much about college anymore, mostly because I’m old and tired and I figure you’d rather hear about my child’s pooping problems or watch Muppets videos. But also because I’m so far removed from it. I can hardly remember what it felt like to be that person. To get so caught up in something that it can make or break your whole day. I can sort of recall a day in 2003, when a beloved basketball team went to a championship game and lost. I cried. A lot. And Trent, who doesn’t really care for basketball or said team, comforted me. The decorated cars in the streets sat still on the sides of the road. People walked up the main street quietly. There was no loud cheering. Just a lot of sad faces.
But yesterday I remembered exactly what that felt like. And in the big city 45 minutes away, I sat outside with 500 other former-students. Some came straight from their jobs, now in nice suits instead of old t-shirts. Some came wearing all blue. Some all red. Some got drunk. But we all held our breath with three seconds left in the game. Total silence.
Then the cheers errupted. They rose out of that venue like a phoenix from the ashes. Overtime.
A 20-year vendetta, finally fulfilled. The weight of curse, lifted. And it couldn’t happen to a better team. A better group of young men. Guys who played like a team should, sharing the burden and the glory. Guys who went through more this year in their personal lives than most will go throw in their entire lives. A coach who led them through it all, therefore leading him out of his predecessor’s shadow. Good people. Nice people. I remembered what it felt like to have a game make or break your day. And to see all of those smiling faces. The total joy in the eyes of a bunch of 27-year-old “adults.” Even Trent, who doesn’t care for basketball or the team, was jumping all over the place. He actually told a guy to move because he was standing in his “lucky spot.”
It felt so good to be young again. Even if it was only for a few hours. And so insanely unexpected. Rock Chalk. Jayhawk. KU.
Thanks to those amazing young men for such a fantastic game. Whoever you were cheering for, you have to admit there couldn’t have been a better match up. And also a big thanks to Trent, Heath and Mikayla, for making it such a fun night. I don’t think I’ve ever seen so much happiness in one moment, and I’m glad I got to share it with you guys.
Now, let’s cheese it up!
