As I was reading Mark’s column this week regarding the great basketball teams of old, I was thrust back in time to those magical state tournament runs years ago. I was a young lad. I was in eighth grade during the first run. I remember going up to the Target center and screaming louder than I ever have rooting for our school.
That first run didn’t end the way we were all hoping, but we all knew it wasn’t over yet. My dad told us most teams don’t end their season with a win. That first run resulted in a third place finish at the state tournament and the first trip in a three year run.
My family and I were not the most dedicated fans, but we always showed up for the big games. We were not the superfans that showed up to every regular season game, but we did show up to every playoff game. We made every trip, often times with a carload of company. Each year we brought different friends, with the exception of Tyler Schlaak, who always made the journey up with us. That reminds me, did any of you hear? Old Schlaaky got his feet wet with coaching and is now running the ninth graders around the old gym.
Back to basketball. I can only speak for myself in this regard. Those trips to the state tournament were among the best experiences of my childhood. Few moments can even compare. It felt like it brought the entire community together. As a fan, I felt connected to everyone else there.
After the first state tournament the town threw a parade; the same parade that would eventually follow the next two seasons. It was here, I felt I learned the value local sports can bring to a community.
Thought for the day: We are a little short on space for this week’s column, so this will only be part one.