What Hoosier Basketball Means to Me

So, who knew that writing a political science thesis would be so all-consuming? Obviously I didn't when I signed up to do it last year, and I barely had enough energy to watch the games, let alone write about them.  Well now I've graduated and, even though I have also started up in the Master of Public Affairs program at SPEA, I'm hoping to be able to get back into this for the coming season.

As we are now about 24 hours from the "official" start of the season in Hoosier Hysteria, I thought I'd take the opportunity to write a bit about what Indiana basketball has meant to this 23-year-old Hoosier kid.  I'll preface this by mentioning that both of my parents come from Missouri, where baseball and football easily outrank basketball.  They moved here to Bloomington in the winter of 1986, meaning their first experience of Indiana basketball was a National Champion team and all the madness that comes with it.  I came into the picture in 1991, my brother in '94, and we moved to the small town of Syracuse, IN, sometime in '96 to follow a teaching job.

Growing up in a town in the northern part of Indiana meant I ate, slept, and breathed basketball, just like kids all over the state, but also meant that I didn't care too much about IU basketball.  Hell, I'm from the same town as Shanna Zolman, the state's all-time girls high school basketball scorer, and I was absolutely hooked on high school ball, traveling the area with my parents to watch her play.  I really didn't care about any college team, although I did root for the Hoosiers if they happened to be on.

Enter the 2002 Indiana team.  This is one of my first truly distinct memories of IU basketball.  I was a 4th grader that year, and just happened to be on Spring Break for the national title game.  I also happened to get my tonsils ripped out the very same day.  Even with that, my family and I set up camp in my dad's classroom where he projected the game onto the wall; we were eating nachos and everything.  Although the result was not what any of us wanted, the Hoosiers stuck for me.

Fast-forward eight years, and I find myself a wide-eyed freshman on the campus of Indiana University.  My parents joke that they had to leave Bloomington just so that I could find my way back.  My first semester was an overwhelming whirlwind fueled by Finite and German 250.  It was also fueled by medical issues.  I'm not going to bore you with all of the details, but by Spring Break of that year I was diagnosed with insulin resistance (and a whole host of other things which often come with hormone levels being out of whack for seven years).  Thanks to my body's inability to process insulin, coming to campus I tipped the scales at 275 pounds, and nothing I did would make it go away.

By this point in the story, Indiana basketball had already had its less-than stellar 12-20 season, which was still better than the two seasons before.  This team had a lone senior in Jeremiah Rivers, the 7'0" Guy-Marc Michel was ruled ineligible, and the future second-overall draft pick Victor Oladipo was just an unheralded freshman out of Maryland.  I was at just about every home game that season, living for each and every win and reeling after every loss.  Then came December 10, 2011, a day that changed the course for IU basketball.  I remember I was there for the Kentucky game and could not believe the atmosphere, knew that this was where I absolutely wanted to be.  As you all know, this team would go on to be 27-9, finishing in the Sweet 16.

During this season I found myself thinking "If these guys can do this, can keep pushing and fighting and defying expectations, why can't I do the same?"  I started working out more, eating better, and being more diligent in taking my medications.  After a win, I'd do a workout of some kind in celebration; after a loss, I'd do one just to release some pent-up energy.  I kept working in the off-season, knowing the team was doing the same.  So far, I've lost about 65 pounds and am still losing more, and it is all with Indiana basketball as my inspiration.

This still does not explain all that Hoosier basketball means to me.  It’s about tradition, about the fact that the Indiana jersey does not have a name on the back because it’s the name on the front that matters.  It’s about hard work, about putting the team ahead of any individual.  It’s about the banners in Assembly Hall, about the craziness that is Hoosier Nation.  It’s about hope, about always believing, even if it seems impossible.

To put some of these statements in context, my best friend and I camped out for Hoosier Hysteria two years in a row.  The first year, we got to Assembly Hall just after midnight and had a blast, even if we had no idea what we were getting into.  It was cold and we really hadn’t planned ahead at all.  I was even wearing flip-flops!  Last year, however, we went all out.  We arrived at Assembly at 11am…the day before Hoosier Hysteria.  We were the first ones in line, outside of the Crimson Guard, who edged us out by about 10 minutes.  We played Cream and Crimson Jenga, watched “Hoosiers” at midnight, and got donuts and milk from Coach Crean the next morning.  We also met all sorts of amazing Hoosier fans, people who shared our passion and our hope.

As I’ve been talking with classmates this week, people who aren’t from Indiana and don’t understand what this basketball-craze is, I’ve found myself perhaps rambling about all of my experiences the last four years.  I start talking about guys like Jordan Hulls, Christian Watford, and Derek Elston, the ones who came when very few players would.  I mention how Jordy was the heart and soul of the team, including his senior night speech and how a packed house shared his tears, showing thanks the way only Hoosier Nation could to the hometown boy.  I talk about guys like Victor Oladipo and Will Sheehey, the ones who came in to show the world that you don’t have to be highly ranked to do great things.  I mention their personalities, how Vic was the kind of guy who always wanted to meet everybody and how Will was always Public Enemy #1 for every opposing fan base, but how both played with limitless energy.  I talk about Cody Zeller, mentioning how my finite prof stopped class at the time of his announcement so that we could find out where he was going (I still remember the cheer that erupted, probably the only time that has ever happened in a finite class).

I also talk about this year’s team, gushing about its strengths.  I rave about Yogi’s leadership, about his skills as a distributer and the ice in his veins during games.  I praise Troy’s explosiveness and speed, how he’s able to bring a fan base to its feet.  I offer amazement at Stan’s change in shooting hand from left to right and how this will make him even more of a threat while driving.  I talk about Hanner’s improvement, praise his shot-blocking ability and defense.  I wonder aloud about the newcomers, about Nick and James and Rob and Max and how their shooting abilities will help space the floor.  About how Tim and Jeremiah could possibly help us down low in a pinch.  I mention how much more together this team seems compared to last year and how that may translate onto the court.  While I know this team does have some question marks and weaknesses, I choose to save those for some time after the Hysteria has died down.

All of this goes to show the type of impact Indiana basketball can have on a Hoosier kid.  As the sign my roommate and I made says, “Hoosier Nation is… A Way of Life.”  It is the inspiration that keeps me working out and doing what’s best for my body.  It is the center point for most of my favorite memories from my time as an undergrad.  It is the chills I get every single time I hear “Where the Streets Have No Name,” how I can see the darkened gym and the fans, clapping in unison, ready to explode, how I can feel the energy and anticipation building up inside of me.  Coach Crean expressed it better, and more succinctly, than I could ever hope to when he said “It’s Indiana,” because, for a Hoosier, that says it all.