Photo (c) Joni McDaniel 2015
My eyes didn’t want to
believe what I was reading on Facebook; it was a simple post which stated “the
gym is gone.” The photos that accompanied the statement left no doubt with
flames that appeared to be shooting straight to heaven from where the roof should
have been. A sacred place of my childhood had perished, and my heart was
broken.
It was a cold crisp December
evening, snow dusted the ground, and with the falling temperatures mom had
bundled me tight as mummy. The sense of anticipation enveloped me when I saw
the parking lot of the gym was almost full. I was about to see my first
basketball game. I didn’t know what to expect.
Dad found a parking spot, and
when I opened the door I could hear the sounds that emanated from behind the
closed doors of the gym. I could hear the ring of a basketball being bounced
against the hardwood floor. As we approached the door we could hear the
opposition cheerleaders urging their team to victory.
It was my introduction to
Hoosier Hysteria. We came to see my cousin Danny Banks play for the Springville
Hornets. When we approached the door there seemed to be a roar from inside. The
visitors were warming up on the floor, and as dad purchased our tickets the hometown
Hornets came out of the locker room.
Danny led the way as the
hometown Hornets circled the court before breaking down into two lines for
layup drills. The local crowd stood as one and cheered. I was hooked on
basketball. The old scoreboard straight of the movie Hoosiers would tick down
to the start of the game. The place was packed, which didn’t take a large crowd
in the tiny gym, but the whole town seemed to be at the game.
It would only be a couple of
years before I played for the Hornets as would my brother, as my dad and his
brothers. The sense of history, and community was always felt in that small
gym.
When I came home on leave
from the Air Force in the late 70’s, I knew where to find my friends, and a
friendly game of basketball. Well as
friendly as Hoosiers can get playing basketball. The sense of knowing you were
home again warmed my soul.
As the years went by, I would
still drive by on a December night, and if I listened close, I could hear the
roar of the crowd in a tightly contested game from long ago. I’m eight years
old walking across a snow-covered parking lot with dad, my heart races in anticipation for what for what awaited me behind the closed door. It was a love affair with Hoosier Hysteria that waited just beyond the entrance. The gym may no longer
exist, but in my mind, and stories it will live on.
Joe Glasgow is
a former senior staff writer at Fanstop.com, and is the author of the book Play
Ball! Growing Up With Baseball https://amzn.to/2o4M62h
