by Last night I walked into the gymnasium at a North Austin high school to watch a playoff basketball game between central-Texas teams Anderson and Weiss.
Along with my close basketball friend Randy and his son Ry, who had just finished a fine McCallum basketball career, I wanted to support friends and players from neighboring (and rival) school Anderson.
These are several boys (and families) that our sons have played with and met through sports, summers, and social events over a number of years.
Looking around the gym before tip-off, I saw countless friends and familiar faces. That included half a dozen high school coaches from our district, many great dads I’ve coached with, and a handful of outstanding AAU coaches who have shaped our boys over the years and made our kids better people.
Growing up as a Hoosier, you lived and breathed high school basketball. In my hometown of 120,000, the eight local schools competed each February in an open, three-day sectionals that took place on the floor of a 12,500-seat collegiate arena.
In those years the IHSAA state tournament was, as fans of the movie Hoosiers recall, a single-class* event. But get this: a coin toss also determined the draw for the first round of each community’s Sectionals.
No seeding of Evansville’s teams 1-8 meant that the top two teams might actually meet in the first round — and every once in awhile, they would. More likely however, you’d end up with a huge Thursday semifinal match before the actual championship game on Friday.
This random factor meant that even the lowliest, most snake-bit team — with the luck of the draw — could potentially summon the will, get hot, knock someone off and win the whole thing.
The entire city, it felt like, turned out – filling the stands. Which were garishly striped – from the rich royal blue of my Memorial Tigers in Section A, to the dirty gold of the Central Bears across-court, to the formidable scarlet and gray, two sections over, of perennial power the Bosse Bulldogs.
During that glorious week, if your school team was fortunate enough to survive and advance, you would attend (and maybe even participate in) daily pep rallies on three separate days.
Classes were an afterthought.
Come tip-off, your school’s entire cheering section showed up that evening wearing full “theme night” regalia. It could be Hawaiian shirts on the first night; suits and ties for the semifinals; and togas for the championship game.
Alive in the bracket for one night or all three, you stood and cheered non-stop and often a student among you would unofficially lead everyone – even your cheerleaders, who were standing below — in chants directed at
· the opposing team (“Go back/Go back/Go back to your woods…!”)
· their fans (“We got spirit, how ’bout you!”), and of course…
· the officials (“Nuts and bolts, nuts and bolts, we got screwed!”)
When the opposing team’s lineups were announced, your entire section held up newspapers – hiding your faces while everyone distractedly “read the paper” while ignoring the rival starting five.
As the week progressed, the “hope springs eternal” excitement of that first round gave way to intensity. While the venue got loud on the two quarter-final nights (Mon/Tue), the true definition of “Barn Burner” became clear on Thursday night.
Now it was serious. The Semis. A plucky team was going to rise up from its tough-luck regular season and send home some “better” squad.
On Thursday night, the energy and drama inside that old stadium would build (contrasted with the postgame arctic blast that awaited outside), and you were eagerly pulled into the grip of the always-tight semifinals doubleheader.
The intensity was palpable in Friday night’s Sectional Finals – which my school advanced to only once, and lost, during my sophomore season.** Somebody was cutting down the nets afterward and you hoped for the dream to continue for your school.
That was a great feeling. It still is.
I am 57 years old and last night brought back vivid memories, even though it felt bittersweet.
Since coming here in the mid 1990’s I’ve been drawn to all aspects of the sport and followed every Lone Star angle of March Madness one could find. We witnessed state playoff games, and a few NCAA subregionals, in the early 2000s.†
This past decade-plus, our three sons have played youth, select and later high school basketball. They have since graduated. Ben played at LBJ and twins John and Rob, as seniors just a year ago, helped lead Austin McCallum to its best campaign in awhile. That was a hell of a ride (and still is with Rob at UTD) and stirred a lot of great memories.
Last night, about 1,500 “Lone Star Hysterical” packed the house at neutral site Rouse High School.
With full turnouts by both schools (and no masks), the big-game energy was just amazing. And a sight for sore eyes after two years of anxiety and nonsense.
The Anderson team of 2022 is a good one, with coaching and offensive advantage and senior depth. Its opponent, the Weiss Wolves, benefitted from a huge, 6-8 and 6-6 front line and athletic guards.
The Trojans had just completed two consecutive perfect 5A District seasons, going 28-0 — a feat that no future AHS team will equal for years, maybe ever. Doesn’t matter who you play.
Heading into the fourth quarter of a tie ballgame, Anderson’s sharp-shooting accuracy suddenly abandoned it, and at the worst possible moment. By the time AHS found its aim again it was too late, and Weiss had handed it a season-ending upset loss, 47-38.
That’s March for you.
Several current Trojan players, including Mike, Jack, Mitch, Derek and others, represent the youngest group of players that I have known from the “Daddy-ball” coaching years. And now that many are graduating seniors, the game at the high school level moves on […shoutouts also to non-Anderson seniors Ben J, and the McCallum Knights I’ve gotten to coach, Noah, Ry, Brock, Mack and Hud].
Even as #20 Texas was battling #10 Baylor on the final night of The Erwin Center, as we departed I mentioned to my friends that this really did feel like my last high school basketball game. Of course, we’ll probably still get out and root for teams and players ahead. The rivalries and big playoff matchups will always be there.
But an era has passed, an era of our boys and their families — the ones that I have known best — moving up together in the sport. It’s great to see those kids turn into young men. Along with a bit of the bittersweet, as well.
Start the clock on the next generation — and hey, here’s to becoming a Grandad (someday), and a whole new ballgame, in the years ahead…
* – Historically, before consolidation of rural school districts in the last half of the twentieth century, many Indiana high schools in little towns had few students; basketball was a natural game since it only required five starters and a few reserves. All it took was one or two great players to elevate your high school team — a dream chased by nearly every small Hoosier burg.
** Evansville was good, not great, at the state level. Most years, if your school won the Evansville Sectional, you were advancing to Regionals (the round of 64) playing with house money. Now, if your team was truly loaded that season you might win the 4-team Regional and advance to the Semi-State (Sweet 16) – each played on the Roberts Stadium court. It happened on rare occasion. [In my era, only Bosse (’43, ’44 and ’62) and the Huskies of Evansville North (’67) could brag of having actually won Indiana state titles.] But make no mistake: If you’d cut down the Sectionals nets, you had just earned bragging rights for the entire next year. Winning the Sectional in town was a Big Deal.
† Rather inexplicably, the UIL around that time surrendered its rightful claim to the state capital hosting the state championship game. So now, it’s played in San Antonio. Go figure.
ADDED: March 4, 2022 IHSAA • Class 3A Sectional 32 championship — Bosse 66, Memorial 63
Stuart Wade 
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