Between Chapters: Rock Chalk
Our warrior, still on the upswing, stumbles upon some magic that could be of use.
From the locker room at Allen Fieldhouse with the legend Coach Bill Self.
When I’ve defended my fanatical love for Kansas Basketball to the plethora of unsympathetic partners I’ve had over the years, I was often rebutted with accusations of selfish, typical boyish behavior. It’s true, I have long forced those around me to share an (apparently) threatening piece of my heart during the winter sports season. But I implore you, it’s not selfish. It’s just not about them.
Growing up in Lawrence, the indisputable center of the basketball universe, my father (as is birthright in the Smith household) took me and my brother to every game at Allen Fieldhouse. We’re talking all the way back to the Danny Manning days. I witnessed Dick Vitale give Nick Collison a standing ovation. I was there when KU stormed back down twenty to beat a loaded Mizzou squad in the final Border War. Even in the rarest of circumstances when the family traveled on a game-day, we’d pull over to some random ass bar & grill to cheer on our beloved ‘Hawks. One such occasion we were still on the road, flirting with losing radio signal, so we stopped just in time to hear Jacque Vaughn sink a buzzer beater along with Hoosier Nation’s spirits. My dad and I went nuts.
Jayhawk Basketball represents the very best of sport’s history, tradition and excellence. But it’s so much more than all that to me. It’s a text thread between childhood friends who rarely see each other anymore. It’s an escape from ALS, even if for two hours. It’s a long-standing game of KU trivia between brothers, over stats no other humans could remember. It’s the foundational bond between father and son.
I wondered if I would ever see another game at “The Phog.” What with my new limitations and recently abandoned season tickets. Then two things serendipitously happened: Coach Bill Self sent me a video commanding me to fight. He even gave me his phone number less I forget his instruction (he heard of my diagnosis through a mutual friend). And star player Christian Braun, his dad, Donald, stumbled upon my blog somehow and was so inspired that he (and Coach) arranged for me to attend a must-win game against TCU.
The dream night included floor seats, a KU victory, and a locker room meet and greet with the coaching staff and team. Coach Self was even gracious enough to give his players a motivational speech on behalf of my battle. And who was there to witness the magic of The Phog once more? My dad of course.
Fresh off back-to-back defeats, that team never lost another game from that night forward. They ran the table, winning the Big 12 regular season, conference tournament, and national championship.
Jamie, despite her MU Tigerness, was so excited for me to have that whole experience. It truly was bucket list worthy. Over the years she and I have indeed had to learn to compromise on all things KU. That’s to say, I pick and choose my battles more strategically. But though Jamie may have my heart now. Kansas Basketball will always be my first love. RCJH.