This past Monday night I made my way toward home from work around 7:00 p.m. As fate would have it, the client's home from which I departed happens to be on the west side of Indy, which meant I would have to cross the monstrous facade of Lucas Oil Stadium on my way home. Usually this only causes me to swerve a couple times on I-70 trying to stare down the hulking beauty of a stadium that I am proud belongs to my NFL team and city. However, tonight was different. Tonight was the National Championship game. And not just any National Championship game. Tiny, hometown Butler taking on evil power Duke. All day the fiscally responsible voice in my head (this voice is very soft spoken and shy) was gently nudging me toward enjoying the game on television. The voice gave many reasons: save money, HD quality, bonding with family, reverse jinx potential for a Butler victory, etc. But when push came to shove, no matter the situation, my Honda was exiting toward downtown in hopes of snagging a ticket.
Now, there's something you need to know. I am no bandwagon man. I have the ticket stubs to prove it. Butler vs Xavier at Hinkle. Vs Youngstown State. Vs Green Bay. Vs Wright State. I have been a Butler fan, along with my cousin Luke, for a long time. So seeing Butler play for the national title was much more than simply getting caught up in the hype of the local team making the big show. This is something I had daydreamed about for a long time, yet was such a far-fetched fantasy that I would usually change the scenario mid-daydream to make it more realistic. Who makes daydreams realistic? This was how far from almost anyone's mind it would be for Butler to play Duke for all the marbles. Even now, it seems impossible that it actually happened.
So being at this game was a must. In a cruel twist, my cousin Luke, who now lives in Indiana for the first time since becoming a Butler fan, found himself in Albany, Georgia, on Monday and unable to attend. So I was in the role of the lone wolf. No one else besides Luke would be an appropriate companion for this journey. After some wheeling and dealing, I scored a good seat for a low price. With that out of the way, I had some time to take in the scene. I saw the Butler players boarding their team bus. This was odd, because at their hotel, it would be faster to simply walk to the stadium, but I guess you just can't do that. Next I walked by many hotels and restaurants and enjoyed watching people preparing for the game with pre-game drinks and food. (It has always perplexed me how people can get drunk before their favorite team plays the biggest game in their history - don't you want to remember this moment???)
Downtown Indy was hot and humid - very odd for this time of year, and I was torturously overdressed. I had determined that my navy blue pullover had to be worn because this was the same pullover I wore when I attended the Boise State-Oklahoma Fiesta Bowl, so I needed all the mid-major mojo I could get. The only problem was, along with jeans, this was an incredibly hot outfit to have on at this time, and it was now soaking wet after a downpour. I was forced to sternly convince myself that neither I nor this pullover had anything to do with the night's result, and therefore it was okay to go back to the car and change into shorts and a t-shirt.
You know how it ends. Butler loses. But what I felt in that stadium Monday was why I will always love sports and, in particular, the spirit of Indiana basketball. 70,000 fans (minus some Dookies) chanting in unison, "DE-FENSE! DE-FENSE! DE-FENSE!" and "LET'S GO BUT-LER! (clap-clap-clap-clap-clap)" You know 85% of the people chanting, screaming, clapping, nail-biting, and pacing have never taken a class at Butler, but we all knew what it was about. It's the thing we all use to share a lot more than we do now.
We Hoosiers remember the Sectionals, Regionals, Semi-States, and State Finals of the past. We remember our rivalry games. We remember packed houses at The Wigwam, Chrysler Fieldhouse, and Case Arena. We remember Bob Knight and Gene Keady and Steve Alford and Keith Smart. And now we remember reality. The spirit is gone from the high school level forever. IU isn't so good right now. Purdue has yet to meet expectations. And the Pacers are a joke. So this is it. Butler. This is Indiana Basketball. Hoosier Hysteria. Everyone in this stadium from Indiana knows that tonight is our chance to get back some of what has been lost. We also know that Butler ain't making a habit of playing in this game. Indiana State in 1979 came so close. Never been back. So it created an incredibly tense atmosphere. We also knew that if Duke built more than a seven or eight point lead, it may be out of hand for good. It would reach five or six, but Butler always brought it back. Near the end, as they scored four straight to cut it to one, it seemed like our desired miracle may actually happen, despite me being convinced it never could since thousands of people were all watching the pot, waiting for it to boil. I am normally rather reserved at games (trying to pull off the "former player/student of the game" look), but I could not contain myself. I was yelling at the top of my lungs. "COME ON BUTLER!!! COME ON!!!" It just wasn't to be. But the memories of their run, and that game, will live on for a long time.
