The Most Wonderful Time of the Year

March 18, 1993 was the greatest sick day of my life. It was the first time that being sick actually felt like a blessing. It was the day when my sports fandom went from "why watch SportsCenter every day?" to "why is there only ONE 24/7 sports network?". On March 18, 1993, I stayed home sick from school and watched my first NCAA basketball tournament.

The NCAA basketball tournament is a 68-team (formerly 64-team) single-elimination tournament of conference winners and the top teams in college basketball. Due to it's one-and-done nature, it is nerve-racking for all teams and fans. The tournament is unique because household names like Kentucky, Duke, and UCLA are matched up with teams they never play from smaller schools without basketball history like Santa Clara, Florida Gulf Coast, and George Mason. These small schools have little to lose, so they play without reservation while their top-seeded counterparts often play wary of what could happen if they lose.

I remember certain details of that first day, but not all. I can recall the blue quilt that my dad and I spread out on the brown shag family room floor and his first explanation that this tournament would be happening all day, all weekend. Why had no one told me about this before? All of my sports memories started around autumn 1992 with Sid Bream crossing home plate and ending the Pirates' competitive baseball for 20 years, so maybe it was natural that spring of 1993 would be my first exposure.

St. John's beat Texas Tech in that first game. Then, it just kept going, all day, culminating with me falling asleep while Pitt got run out of the gym by Utah, 86-65.

Why do I remember some of these things? Well, to start, most of my childhood memories have something to do with sports. I remember my first Pirates game, my first Steelers game (1993 NFL playoff loss vs Buffalo), and my first Penguins game (generally, 1993 Stanley Cup vs Chicago).

On top of that, the NCAA tournament has just become a part of my life in ways other things have not.

Over the years, I've had a few different plastic/rubber basketball hoops for the kitchen that was probably my favorite toy growing up. That 1992 tournament was played in my kitchen almost as much as in arenas around the country.

The 1993 tournament was the first bracket I picked, incorrectly predicting the first 16-seed (Navy) to beat a 1-seed (Missouri).

In junior high, my social studies teacher and basketball coach, Mr. Wellendorf, had a TV in his room that he'd tune to games.

Come high school, they may as well have not scheduled classes in the afternoon. Any teacher that had a TV tuned to games would be signing hall passes to students who wanted to watch instead of learn. During senior year, my day ended with a few class periods or study halls in the video production room, so I recall sitting there and watching games with my good friend, Brandon. I distinctly remember that tournament because the day it started, March 20, 2003, was also the first day of invasion in the Iraq War.

If it weren't for memories, things like this tournament would not stick. I could go on and on with these thoughts, as I haven't even gotten into college yet. I will simply say that there was nothing more exciting than going to a college like Pitt that was a consistent top contender in this tournament, despite constant underachievement. The things we enjoy most are associated with our favorite memories for a reason; we want to keep living those moments over and over again.

(Sports) Seasonal Homesickness

For context, you need to know just a few simple things about me. First, I grew up outside the city of Pittsburgh and, therefore, bleed black and gold. Second, I moved to Tacoma, WA, 20 months ago in September 2011. I've experienced a good bit of homesickness from time-to-time which grows and fades and has been less severe each time it creeps around. Lately, for you statistics nerds, I've realized a positive and direct correlation that explains the cyclical nature of my homesickness. I'll call it SSH, or, Sports Seasonal Homesickness.

This concept may make sense to some and make no sense to others. If you're a sports fan, you know what I'm talking about. I mean a REAL sports fan. One that reads articles in your local paper after games, follows your team's beat writers on Twitter, and watches every game you're capable of watching. Folks from cities like Chicago, Philadelphia, or Boston might know a lot about what I'm talking about.

I have gotten to the point where I can predict when my depression will set in each year. Late December through early February, most of March through early April, early May through early June, and mid-September, or, NFL playoffs, March Madness, MLB Opening Day, NHL playoffs, and the start of NFL/NCAA football season. Thankfully (kinda), the Pirates have never given me much to care about aside from the start of the season, so October is sorta safe.

There's no way around it. It's a simple formula that I am 2500 miles away from the center of my sports fandom. People in the northwest simply don't care about sports as much as the east coast or midwest and that's okay. It stinks, but it's okay. It makes it hard for me to really get into the teams I've followed forever because I don't have as many folks to talk to about the Penguins, Pirates, or Steelers. They like other things and that's cool. I don't love hiking (yet) or dogs (ever) or climbing stuff (dangerous), but I knew that was the culture coming into this chapter of my life. 

The homesickness doesn't come from the teams as much as you'd think, although I do love a good walk down memory lane with Soixante-Six. No, it's the memories tied to them that really hit me. 

With the Penguins, the memories are abundant. Walking into Police Station Pizza on Friday nights with my dad to see the Pens game on a 19-inch color TV sitting on top of the Coca-Cola fridge for the cooks to watch. Recording portions of TV or radio broadcasts on cassette tapes so I can listen again the next day while mom carted me around running errands. Creating our own wooden shooter-tutor for my hockey net so I could re-enact games from the night before. As an adult, creating lifelong friendships over games at the Otto or Redfield residences, remembering that we don't talk during play unless it's to instruct ("PINCH!"). Vowing never to eat Mrs. Malkin's red borscht without beets again because it jinxed a Stanley Cup game against the Red Wings. Drinking nothing but Pabst Blue Ribbon during Game 7 of the Stanley Cup because that was my good luck charm.

For the Pirates, so many memories of trips to see the worst team in baseball for about 40% of my joyrides in my first 2 years of driving. Joking about the oft-forgotten pieces to the longest seasonal losing streak in pro sports history (20 years), such as Jermaine Allensworth, Francisco Cordova, or, my personal favorite, Rob Mackowiak. Playing wiffleball in my backyard with my closest friends picking different eras of Pirates teams to be (with 1992, of course, being the most popular). Spending most summer evenings with the game on the radio or the TV for the last 20 (losing) seasons.

The Steelers are the biggest unifier. My mother does not watch sports, but she surely knows if the Steelers won or lost each week thanks to the mood of my father. Watching games with my dad at Grandma's house. Watching playoff games with friends in high school and putting our jerseys over our faces for each field goal attempt. Yelling obscenities at Ike Taylor. The list goes on.

It doesn't stop there, either. Pitt sports have been a staple in my life the whole time, as well. Going to games at old Pitt stadium after I'd go play video games or mess around with AutoCAD while dad worked overtime at his engineering job. Choosing games against crappy teams like Rutgers or Temple because we knew there'd be tickets available and Pitt might actually win. Shooting hoops in our driveway with my friends to let off steam after Pitt would lose tough games. The good years in the early 2000s when the unthinkable happened and bowl games and March Madness became staples year-in and year-out. Tyler Palko. Larry Fitzgerald. The list goes on again. (re: It's Tough Being a Pitt Fan).

Needless to say, these memories and feelings creep up when each season reaches their pivotal points. I've spent the last 2 years searching for anywhere to watch games at bars or online. Subscribing to MLB.TV because I couldn't imagine a summer without Pirates baseball. Finding a Steelers bar where I could watch games with people who aren't still bitter about a pathetic Super Bowl with the local team. Finally moving into a house (with Canadians, no less) that has cable where I can watch the Penguins. These are necessary evils to maintain sanity in these times of depression.

There's really no way to alleviate this depression. It's something I'll have to live with forever. WebMD says there's no cure aside from moving home, which I don't have any plans to do any time soon. God says I can't go back yet. Thomas Wolfe says you can't go home again, but I don't trust him any further than I can throw him (which probably isn't far because dead bodies are heavy, I hear).

So, every once in a while I'm going to be sad. I'm going to miss entire Saturdays and Sundays spent on the Redfields' couch watching games. I'll miss the assumed case of Yuengling sitting in Jordan's fridge when the Pirates are on 90% of summer nights. I'll miss the no-nonsense attitude of Pittsburgh sports fans and their hate of everything Philadelphia. Until the Lord calls me home (Pittsburgh, not heaven, although they may not be mutually exclusive), I will do whatever it takes to create a pocket of my life for the black and gold (or blue and gold) to give my sanity some relief every January, March, June, September, and each month in between.

It's not just sports. It's the only life I've known.

Let's go Pens.

Let's go Bucs.

Here we go Steelers.

Hail to Pitt.

Friday

Nothing much better than a Friday for one of the first beautiful days in this year's edition of Spring, right?  Riding to work was enviable today cruising down Craig Street on my World Sport this morning with the 63 degree air engulfing my frame.  After a winter of trudging 30 minutes in the snow to get to CMU, I cannot think of better weather to take my 12-minute bike ride to work than today.  Here are a few beautiful thoughts on this beautiful Friday:

March Madness, of course!  Today is the second day of the 68-team tournament.  Basketball is my favorite sport and the next three weekends are the most demonstrative displays of human emotion you'll see in sports all year.  The buzzer-beaters, the upsets, the money pools, and the hope that Pitt will finally make that elusive Final Four.  When my job search ends, I know that the first two days of the tournament will be the first vacation days I try to land.  I've worked Christmas Eve and New Year's Eve; not a big deal.  Yesterday and today?  I'd rather be on my couch.  

Finding a killer job.  I have found a lot of really cool jobs during the past week of job searching, but the best one may have been found in a final gasp of applications.  The position is a Coordinator for Student Activities at CMU.  This coordinator will be the adviser for WRCT (CMU radio), cmuTV, the Activities Board, and a few other programs.  Being the staff adviser for CMU's radio station and Activities Board would be a perfect fit for me.  I love engaging students with on-campus activities and I absolutely loved my time at Pitt's radio station, WPTS.  I love music and students who love music, so this position is at the top of my wish list.

Facebook fasting.  Today is Day 9 of the fast and I barely miss Facebook.  It was an enormous waste of time and I've been plenty more productive in my life since the fast started.  The most unexpected effect is that I am valuing my alone time far more than I ever have.  Facebook would fill the white space of my personal time with a gray area of social interaction.  Instead of wasting time on Facebook, I've been applying for jobs, playing music, and enjoying time reading or with friends.

This weather.  Mid-60s and sunny.  Perfect for biking to the Union Grill after work for a Rogue Dead Guy Ale and March Madness with my buddy Jordan.

What are some other beautiful things about this beautiful Friday?

#letsgopitt