I wrote this one year ago, but it still applies. In honor of my Dad especially who was not only a Big Green parent, but a basketball official as well. Dad isn't doing so well these days, but the spirit of this little burg is as strong as ever. God bless you all Big Green fans!
A few thoughts:
A beautiful Sunday morning brings forth a humble beginning, and ending to another March madness ritual. To small town folk like me it means putting away the banners, and cleaning up the streets paved with toilet paper from another successful basketball season. I use the term successful in light of defeat, because even though the local high school teams came up a bit short on their quest for a state championship, the energy, and enthusiasm never quite fades from memory. My Mom used to fondly remembered her senior year when the boys team played in the state tournament in 1954, and I also recall my big brother playing on the hardwood at St. John Arena in Columbus, Ohio in 1978. The electricity of it never seems to leave your bloodstream no matter how recent or long ago it has been; basketball will always be king in our home town.
Today, the sun shines again, people gather in song, and praise to the rhythm of a church organ while secretly a little girl's dream becomes a goal for next season. Friendships strengthen, faith begins the healing process once again, and Easter awaits a saving grace won so many centuries ago. The trials of life go on, children grow as the grass beneath the winter snow breaks through, and twilight gathers stars to wish upon once more.
My heart is planted here in these humble surroundings, and you can bet I'll keep my eyes open for a chance to see the reality of all that hard earned practice offered up in sacrifice for one more trip, and my ears will be tuned to the sound of a radio broadcast from the Big Dance come another season on the king's court. Until then I know the memories will go on feeding the hopes of another generation longing for an opportunity to mold a dream into a pot of gold.
God bless.
A few thoughts:
A beautiful Sunday morning brings forth a humble beginning, and ending to another March madness ritual. To small town folk like me it means putting away the banners, and cleaning up the streets paved with toilet paper from another successful basketball season. I use the term successful in light of defeat, because even though the local high school teams came up a bit short on their quest for a state championship, the energy, and enthusiasm never quite fades from memory. My Mom used to fondly remembered her senior year when the boys team played in the state tournament in 1954, and I also recall my big brother playing on the hardwood at St. John Arena in Columbus, Ohio in 1978. The electricity of it never seems to leave your bloodstream no matter how recent or long ago it has been; basketball will always be king in our home town.
Today, the sun shines again, people gather in song, and praise to the rhythm of a church organ while secretly a little girl's dream becomes a goal for next season. Friendships strengthen, faith begins the healing process once again, and Easter awaits a saving grace won so many centuries ago. The trials of life go on, children grow as the grass beneath the winter snow breaks through, and twilight gathers stars to wish upon once more.
My heart is planted here in these humble surroundings, and you can bet I'll keep my eyes open for a chance to see the reality of all that hard earned practice offered up in sacrifice for one more trip, and my ears will be tuned to the sound of a radio broadcast from the Big Dance come another season on the king's court. Until then I know the memories will go on feeding the hopes of another generation longing for an opportunity to mold a dream into a pot of gold.
God bless.
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