Aproaching March Madness

KK asked me this morning what had happened to my voice. I replied that my voice is recovering from yelling myself hoarse from last night's MSU win over Indiana University at Breslin. MSU played a terrible first half: many turnovers resulting in IU points. At half, IU was ahead by 10 points in a low scoring game. IU had previously beaten MSU at Bloomington by 20 points. MSU needed this win to cement an at-large bid for the NCAA tournement this March although MSU had a signature win over then nationally #1 ranked Wisconsin this last Tuesday. Saturday was "game day" on ESPN with taping beginning at 9:30AM and ESPN with its familiar crew televising live the game itself beginning at 9 PM. KK and I arrived more than a hour early. Immediatedly next to the stairs leading to our nose-bleed bleacher seats, there they were, the ESPN crew prepping and preening infront of the still "on hold" TV cameras. We would see this same setup and crew at the end of the game as they took several "takes" prior to broadcast. At court side, with the play-by-play were Dick Vital and Amy and ... a host of other somewhat knowledgable game analysts. What I saw during the game did not match the commentary of the game by the play-by-play. Dumb plays, bad referee calls: fouls called and not called; but the game as commented upon were the blocked shots, dunks, the shooting and makes, the fans, coaches' and players reactions after shots made, missed, or turnovers. The game I saw was played in the trenches, big men blocking out big men, rebounds fought for, guards rounding screens to get an open shot, balls popping loose from player's hands as they were hacked, elbowed, pushed, moved out of position. Inspite of the bumping and grinding, shots were made; game changing blocks, rebounds, foul shots happened. Fatigue was visible. Star players displayed the joy and elation after a shot or block or steal made. Individual players or coaches sense of disgust was visible after a foul. Anger at the referee for not calling a foul; booing by the crowd; disbelief at what was or was not seen. A hushed quiet (with a few cat calls by scattered IU fans) when MSU went to the foul line. The home crowd yelling and waving arms in the line of site when IU players went to the foul line. Cheers at a miss by IU, "air ball" when IU failed to hit the rim during a shot. Taunting of the player when they touched the ball again "air ball, air ball" until the IU player hit a shot to break the "spell". So the game that I saw, had ebb and flow; streaks of mastery, streaks of one dumb play after another on both team's part. In the end, lock down defense by MSU force IU into poor shot selections; fatigue, as evidenced by jump shots falling short, hitting the front of the rim; throw away passes; panic, when doubled teamed at the end of the game. All the while, there was the din of the student sections: the entire lower bowl filled with students in white tee shirts (white out), all but the seats behind both players benches and scorers table, the "Izzone" (named for coach Tom Izzo), and the entire middle section of the Breslin Students Events Center upper bench seats in the nose-bleed sections KK and I were seated next to, chanting "MSU, MSU,MSU", singing the MSU "Fight Song" lead by the Spartan Brass Band (30 strong), and there I was singing and shouting at the referees and players who made turnover after turnover, clapping and yelling my approval when a play was made. Towards the end of the game, I had lost my voice. KK told me she would be very angry with me if I had allowed myself to become so excited as I precipitated a heart attack. My head and body were certainly into this IU game as well as the one earlier in the week against U of Wisc. I was reassuring myself that I had had, at least on preliminary results, a good stress test the week before, and was in "better than average fitness for a man of my age". So. It is better to go to the game, even in the nose-bleed section, requiring binoculars at times, than to sit at home, watching tunnel vision segments of the game, the ambiance broken by advertisements, with commentators and analysts saying narry a disparaging word towards a referee or coaching or player's mistake. The shear totality of the experience of being there: alive. Even the walk from the parked car to Breslin and then back again. KK and I talking on the way in, anticipating various players "stepping up" and afterwards, walking back, the plays that were made and not made, the coaches comments after the game, and the general feeling of excitement and relief that there was another victory. I spoke last nite with my hoase voice.