March Madness Memories: On Magical Possibilities and Being a Kid Again
“Kids remind us in a hurry all that’s important, all that’s real, is the here and now. They have a way of showing us that there’s something to celebrate in life at any moment… We tend to think of children as weak and vulnerable, as fragile little people. To me, they’re giants.” — Fred Epstein, If I Get to Five
It’s 1999. My family is in Chicago, and the adventure of exploring a new city is thrilling for my 7-year old mind. More than 2 decades later, I don’t remember a lot about the city, but I can tell you that the fresh $40 in my pocket heading into the Nike store felt like a million. I bought the first shirt I saw- shiny and baby blue, like nothing I’d ever seen before. They didn’t make these kinds of beauties in my native Columbus, Ohio. My $40 was gone before both feet had entered the store.
I also remember the front desk having tiny rectangular mints with gold wrappers. I must’ve eaten my body weight in them over the long weekend. The magic of being a kid- seeing a new thing and wanting the utmost of them. Shiny blue shirts. Golden front-desk mints. Big buildings all around. I just wanted to consume it all.
I crave that feeling today. Don’t we all? I want that child-like gaze, those jolts of wonder and possibility. I’m 30 now with a 7-month son, and he is schooling me in the power of presence. Of being completely attentive to the mysteries and magic of new sights and new feelings. All the discoveries that stop him in his tracks- ceiling fans, new toys, bowls of pureed peaches. Utter enchantment.
The most potent memory from the trip was watching my precious Buckeyes lose to UConn in the Final Four of March Madness. We watched on our hotel TV as I practiced spinning my mini-final 4 ball on the tip of my finger. Just like my dad taught me. The ball was teal and covered in palm trees, and I must’ve borrowed some of my brother’s $40 to buy it. March Madness slid its way into being the highlight of that trip for me. It has a way of doing that, doesn’t it? There’s something unexplainably special about it, an endless well of possibility with every matchup. The brackets, the predictions, the what-if’s. The first day of March Madness has always been my most anticipated day of the year, even beating out Christmas. Pure magic.
Rewind a couple weeks. I remember waking up my dad on a weeknight sometime after 2am. I tossed and turned all night because the Buckeyes were playing Auburn in the sweet 16, a game we were supposed to lose. “Did they win?!” I had promised myself I’d watch it on VHS the following night after school, but I couldn’t wait. “Bucks won. They did it. Onto the elite 8!” I don’t remember who we knocked off next, but I’m sure I spent significant time replaying it in the driveway afterward, pretending I was Michael Redd or Scoonie Penn.
Then there was the day my parents got us a pool table. I’m now a freshman in high school and obsessed with playing billiards on the computer against my friend, Seth. My brother and I had always wanted a pool table, and on the night we played Tennessee at 9:27pm (yes, that was the tip-off time), the inaugural billiards games went down. The feeling of staying up way later than I should have on a school night was ecstasy. That pool table provided our family so many more memories over the years, some of my favorites with my brother we still talk about often. Blasting In Rainbows by Radiohead and playing game after game. The joys of teenage freedom and brotherly love.
About two weeks later, I watched the Buckeyes lose in the championship game to Florida. I laid on my couch, fresh off a major nose surgery from a brutal baseball injury. I shed a few tears; I remember how sure I was the Bucks would win the game, just for me. I felt like the universe owed me- after breaking my nose, cheek bone, and orbital bone during my first high school baseball game. The highs and lows of March Madness, man, colliding with the ups and downs of life.
There have been plenty of other painful losses over the years. Busted brackets… and I mean BUSTED. Buzzer-beaters to remember. Wild upsets, none quite as shocking as UMBC’s a few years ago- the first 16-seed to ever take down a 1-seed in the first round. I remember watching, mouth agape, at something many had called a miracle that would never happen in sports history. Until it did.
The feeling that anything is possible, that something thrilling is going to happen at any moment, is the lifeblood of March Madness. I think we love this tournament so much because this is also a feeling we all crave a fresh taste of in adulthood. When you’re 7 and in a new city, with a new final four basketball in hand, anything can happen. Dreaming up driveway buzzer-beaters back home, something thrilling is at your fingertips. Tiptoeing to your parents room in the wee hours, scratching your itch of sleepless anticipation to learn if your team won. The magic and the possibility. When March Madness kicks off each year, I relive this feeling. There’s nothing quite like feeling like a kid again.
One of my favorite daily moments with my son is when he wakes up. He welcomes each day with the biggest grin I’ve ever seen, followed by rapid-fire, jubilant babbling. It’s as if he rises each day, totally blown away that he gets to do THIS all over again. He gets to be here, now. Seeing new things, tasting new tastes, welcoming new faces. Arms wide open, he just wants to take it all in.
The 2022 March Madness tournament tips off tomorrow at noon. I can’t wait. Tonight I am a kid trying to sleep on Christmas Eve. Tomorrow morning, like my son waking up for the day. I can’t wait.
Let the madness begin. And let us all tap into the childlike awareness of all that is possible, all that is magical, all that is right here and right now. May we all reach for this awareness, for this feeling, and experience the joy of being a kid, again.
