I am from Indiana. I am a Hoosier. I grew up with a basketball in my hand and a basketball goal outside my house. We spent hours in my driveway playing pick-up games, Horse and just shooting free throws. Our basketball goal was regulation height with the free-throw line precisely 15 feet from the basket and painted on our driveway. When you got depressed in Indiana, you didn't go see a shrink...you went outside and shot hoops.
On the weekends, we watched Indiana college basketball. Everyone knew that you did not call our home during IU basketball games. If you did, you either didn't get an answer, or you got the cold voice of my mother answering the phone with, "Who is this? Indiana is playing basketball."
I grew up in a college town. When they had a home game, we were there. We would deck ourselves out in the school's purple and white, grab our UE #1 foam fingers, and head to the game come rain, shine, or snowstorm. We only missed a game if we were out of town on vacation, but that was rare as we did not schedule a vacation during the basketball season. When March comes, Hoosiers are inside watching basketball. In Indiana, basketball is life.
When I moved to Florida, I thought I had left the United States when it came to basketball. Basketball goals were only found at the recreation centers. The only goal I've ever seen outside a rec center was in the street, and it was one of those kid goals that could be lowered so everyone can dunk.
Hardly any natives watched basketball on television, and the only fans that came to the college games were college kids. And can I tell you how bad the college team was? Our Indiana high school teams could have played circles around the University of South Florida Bulldogs. It was a sad sight, but as long as I was able to have cable, I could get my basketball fix. When March rolled around every year, I put in early for my days off to experience the madness. I never had to worry about getting those days. I was usually the only one who requested them. I carried my basketball in my trunk, and when I got homesick, I'd head to the court across the street from my apartment. Some of my first dates with Tom were on the basketball court.
As the years rolled by, I started watching less and less basketball. Indiana was rarely shown on television anymore. I married, moved away from the courts, and eventually lost my Indiana connection. Tom and I use to have a competition each March Madness in filling out the brackets, but that stopped about 5 years ago when Tom stopped picking. I use to bet each year with a Kentucky friend of mine when Kentucky would play Indiana, but eventually, that died off. Little by little, basketball started disappearing in my life. My mother could not believe it when she would call to discuss a game with me and would discover I wasn't even watching. I tried to explain it was a Florida curse.
Last week she called me and admitted that the curse had gotten to her. She said she understood now how it happens. There is sunshine, warm days, the beach, the water, and the golf course all a stone's throw away from our homes. Basketball does not dominate the Sports section of the paper. Games are not announced on the radio. Even March Madness, unless it is played here in town, takes second fiddle to the arrival of Spring Breakers.
Don't get me wrong. I was born in Indiana. I'm a Hoosier, always will be a Hoosier, and basketball will still be in my veins. But I realized that I had become a Floridian after 16 years when I sat down to watch the final laps of the Daytona 500, listened to the Auto Club 500 on the radio, and am now wondering who will be in what pole position for Sunday's UAW-DaimlerChrysler 400.
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