Prospector Sam - Dear March Madness...

Dear March Madness,

Let me simply start by saying, welcome back. I, and so many other people, have missed you. That sentiment feels stronger than ever this year, because it’s now been almost 23 months since the final whistle blew on the 2019 NCAA tournament.

Last year was tough, for a million different reasons, some of which were obviously more significant than basketball. But the decision to cancel the Tournament, one of the best sporting events in the country, was a loss for sports fans and for the college athletes who work so hard to compete in it. And, let's be clear, it is so much more than just a bunch of basketball games to decide a national champion.

It’s a spectacle. A period of weeks, especially in the early stages, filled with excitement, emotion and passion. It gives players a chance to compete, gives fans a few hours to live and die with their team’s success or failure, and brings friends together for afternoons and evenings of celebration.

For me, your importance is much deeper than just a basketball tournament, and a few fun weeks. I was raised on college basketball. More specifically, I was raised to bleed Syracuse Orange, because my father grew up in a small farm town just outside of the city where Syracuse men’s basketball team is as close to religion as it gets.

I never went to Syracuse University, and I’ve never even lived in New York, but that program means as much to me as any I follow. There’s something deeper to it than just supporting the local teams I grew up with, probably because the commitment is so different. Finding ways to track the games and follow the Orange was much harder while living in New England, especially in the 90s and early 2000s when that meant getting up and grabbing the paper from the driveway to see the scores of the games played the night before.

But the real connection, and why you mean so much to me, goes all the way back to the opening rounds of the Tournament in 2003. I was just a kid, still in elementary school, who had filled out tons of brackets that I meticulously hand marked as each game finished on Thursday.

When I woke on Friday morning, ready to tackle another day of multiplication tables and Egyptian history, I was only hoping to make it through the school day to get back and watch more games. Instead, my father looked at me and said, “no school today, bud. We’re going in to Boston if that’s alright with you.” My jaw dropped, before lighting up with one of those smiles you only find on Christmas or a wedding day.

Boston was a host for the first two rounds of the tournament, and none other than the Syracuse Orange, who I had never watched live, had drawn that location. My dad had managed to grab 3 tickets; one for him, one for his best friend from college, and the other for me. And I wasn’t an only child either. I had two brothers, one older and one younger, but neither of whom loved basketball nearly as much as I did. My dad had picked that day for the two of us, which meant the world to me.

There begins the story of one of the best days of my life. We got in at noon, ate soft pretzels and burgers, and watched the Syracuse beat down on an overmatched Manhattan team. Another game, then a walk across I-93 to the North End, the Italian neighborhood of Boston, for freshly made pizza and ice cream.

Two more games, including hopelessly rooting against Big East-rival Pittsburgh, and then a drive home to a dark house where I should have been long asleep. It would have been hard to even imagine a better day for me as a kid, and its one I still look back on with some of the fondest memories.

The story happens to have an ever happier ending too, because those same Syracuse Orange won their first and only NCAA Championship 3 weeks later, riding Freshman phenom Carmelo Anthony and 3-Point ace Gerry McNamara (my favorite player of all time).

Now, that one day means a lot to me, but every year you give me a new story or memory. Whether it be incredible games, crazy upsets, converting a common area into a bunker of TVs and beer in college, or convincing a local casino in Australia to let me control their full wall of TVs at 5 AM to watch games, I always walk away from March with something extra than I had before.

And so does everyone who cares about the game. It ties us back to college and the schools we moved into when we left home for the first time. It helps us connect with coworkers over a bet on who can pick the best bracket. It lets us meet up with friends on a Thursday night, to sit down and have a few beers while catching up, putting aside all of the other things going on in our lives.

See, what you are is really a reason to step away from everything and to enjoy sports like a kid again. Players obviously have a chance to do something great, and to memorialize themselves in college basketball history by winning the most important trophy in the sport. But for every day people, it’s a time to just enjoy college basketball in its purest form.

An excuse to take a break from everyday life for something we love to do. We can watch sports endlessly, spend time with the people we care about, and even try to make some money on the boards if we’re feeling lucky. Most importantly, its an opportunity for something to look back on. I have my day with my dad, but I’ve heard endless numbers of stories from friends and family who have their own meaningful memories.

And in a time where everyone has had fewer chances than normal to get those experiences, after a year of lockdown and so many other difficult changes, having you back is more important than ever, even if it still wont be the same.

So to you, March Madness, I say welcome back once again. I know I’ve been looking forward to this moment for a long time, almost 23 months to be exact, and so many other people have too.

The crowds may be smaller, and bars may not be filled, but I have no doubt that, as always, you will bring unforgettable moments, and not just from the games played.

Sincerely,

Prospector Sam ⛏️