March Madness Memories

         Yesterday was slightly rainy on my run (about 40 minutes) and I just found myself a little preoccupied while running, a preoccupied train of thought I sometimes try to avoid.  It happens every now and then I suppose when you run the same road over and over where scenery doesn’t consume you as much and the thoughts sneak in.  With Girl’s basketball season wrapping up and the newspapers filled with “memories” I found myself going back to “remember when” days.  I’m not quite sure why I don’t stay as on top of girl’s basketball as much as I once did.  I wish I had a more valid excuse as to why and I know I should but sometimes I think it’s an avoidance of “things”.  I’ve talked to very few people about this and since this blog is an open book as to getting through “this” then I suppose I guess I’ll reveal a little bit of it. 

            My senior year of high school (dating back to long ago days of 2001) J……our high school girls basketball team made it to States…the notorious Charleston Civic Center where March Madness takes over the town.  We always had a really tough region to play out of usually boasting several top 10 teams in the state every year.  This special year we beat the odds and made it through past Bridgeport to invade the Charleston Civic Center with Ritchie County Rebel pride.  That week was full of ups and downs (bruises and soreness)….the down part is of course losing in a battle that we still may be a little bitter over J   I remember just how packed our side of the Civic Center was with fans who had been at every game the whole year, fans who surprised us and made the trips to be there to cheer us on, and fans we hadn’t seen all season, nevertheless the overwhelming support is a memory I’ll never forget. 

            That game was also the last game I played FOR my dad (also known as coach depending on the season or instance) as a Ritchie County Rebel.  Some (many perhaps) may not realize, but I actually was a bit of a different player.  I believed everything that I could do….if dad or someone told me I could.  If they believed enough in me to do something I believed enough in their judgment that I could.  I probably was one of the most nervous players that ever stepped on the court.  I remember the night of our first round state game dad was taping my ankles all while I was scratching fiercely at the hives that had began to consume my arms and legs because of my nerves.  (Don’t fear this happened quit often when I would get worked up, and if anyone remembers the first half of this particular game I’m almost certain it was obvious) I remember he kept telling me “If you’re going to throw up…throw up now”.  As a leader you can’t illustrate uncertainty or others will pick up on it and worry too. Therefore, I always had to have dad walk me through my own doubts and nerves so that I could be the stronger person for others. 

            Dad would tease about his nerves making his hand shake.  He’d joke about us all driving him crazy so much it would make his hand tremble.  In light of dad’s sense of humor, I’m sure it was his way too of dealing with the unknown actual reason as to why his hand was actually shaking.

With me saying that, you can assume if you know signs of Parkinson’s Disease where this may be heading.  Honestly, we didn’t think too much at first as it had been happening throughout that year and nothing thinking it being anything more than possibly just nerves making his hand shake.  Doctors examined the situation, made suggestive diagnoses but Parkinson’s really wasn’t a well known disease at the time for it to be a possibility.  The Parkinson’s diagnoses came right before I was leaving to college to play basketball for Robert Morris University.  I remember being on the phone several times prior to me actually leaving with my new basketball coach as to how I was going to be able to handle this and the thousands of what if’s that can consume a person.  I think once I went to college I went through a slight bitterness stage too inspired by the “why dad” factors. 

I can still hear a lot of dad’s advice even though his voice may not actually speak the words anymore I am happy to suggest what I’m sure dad would say in any situation. Many times being “there is no crying in baseball!”  (Even though dad technically didn’t make that line famous…there definitely shouldn’t be any crying any time) J  I spent a lot of time standing next to the out of bounds line beside the bench with dad giving his oversight on what to do next, and I think of that a lot in my life as to what the next play is going to be.