The characters and other fun of March Madness

March Madness is underway. For the one or two of you who need the explanation, MM is the trademarked named of the annual NCAA basketball tournament (and is finally able to be applied to the women’s tourney as well). March Madness travels into April, but that’s a whole different story.

For the first time in a while, I actually filled out a bracket this year. I’m having a friendly competition with my friend Jody. No money involved, no prize; just a reason to pay attention to all the games. I’m the “commissioner” of our little competition, so I get all nerdy tracking the games, recording scores and keeping track of our individual wins. At the end of the Round of 64, we were tied with the identical score of 22 (one point for each win). After the Round of 32, I hold a slight cumulative edge at 30-29. In other words, neither one of us is doing well.

But as with most sporting competitions, the athletic contests themselves almost take a back seat to the characters that blossom in the background.

Who doesn’t remember Sister Jean, who became synonymous with the Loyola University Chicago? The nun, who held many professional roles on the campus, including assistant dean and academic advisor, attached herself to the men’s and women’s basketball teams in 1994, according to a university website timeline. She served as academic advisor and worked with student-athletes to keep their grades up and remain athletically eligible. She dubbed herself the “Booster Shooter.” In 1996, she became the official team chaplain for the men’s team.

Sister Jean became a ubiquitous presence at NCAA tournaments and was soon a national treasure. She died last year at the age of 106.

Sister Jean was honored with her own bobblehead. Photo Loyola website

Already this year, the Miami (Ohio) men’s swim team has endeared itself to the nation, as have the student radio broadcasters of High Point University. 

The swimmers made quite a splash (you knew I had to go there) when they stormed the arena aisle to camp out behind the hoop, with the goal of distracting opposing free-throw shooters. In a really tight play-in game, the Speedo-garbed guys jumped up and down and waved their arms to distract the shooter.

The Miami of Ohio swimmers are big supporters of the basketball team.

The distraction was successful in a critical moment and the Redhawks hung on to defeat Southern Methodist University to notch their first-ever NCAA tourney win. They lost to Tennessee by 22 points in the Round of 64, but school history was made.

The boys of water first started expressing their support of the hoopsters in January, according to online reports.

I say the swimmers should get an official assist in the scorebook.

High Point University, described by clueless network broadcasters as a "small Methodist school," was the decided underdog as a 12-seed, going up against No. 5 seed Wisconsin of the Big 10 conference. I’m sure most pundits — and bettors — expected High Point to get blown away, but the plucky Panthers more than held their own against the Badgers. Down by as many as 10 points, the Panthers battled back on the back of some hot three-point shooting and the team won by a point, 83-82, in the last few seconds of the game.

But while the players were doing their job on the court, student broadcasters Jimmy Rosselli and Griffin Wright were doing their thing on the sidelines. As the team made its way down the court in the contest’s waning seconds, the two announcers called the action with professionalism. But when backup Chase Johnston delivered a layup that put their team up by a point, the two young men went nuts and their reaction went viral. They have been interviewed by a variety of media outlets, including Fox News, Sports Illustrated and Yahoo Sports.

Johnston made some personal history with the game-winning layup. It was the first two-point bucket of the season for the three-point specialist.

I’m sure High Point’s victory broke an awful lot of brackets (including my friendly opponent’s).

My favorite image so far is video footage of Prairie View A&M’s Hassane Diallo staring up at Florida’s Olivier Rioux, who measures up at 7’9”. Diallo, who at 6’8” is probably accustomed to being the tallest person in the room, literally cranes his neck to look up at Rioux’s face. In almost comical fashion, Diallo gives Rioux a nearly head-to-toe glance, as if to say, “Is this guy for real?”

Rioux later dunked a ball after barely leaving the floor. It looked like a two-inch vertical jump was all it took.

Betting and other side activities and competitions have branched out from the tourney. Folks will bet on or rank anything, including school mascots.

Sports Illustrated recently published an article ranking the mascots of all of this year’s tourney teams. The. Clemson Tiger was rated the No. 65 mascot (three participating teams were listed in another ranking as having no mascots at all.) Apparently, according to the accompanying blurb, the tiger, for whatever reason, has occupied the mascot basement for several years. 

Iowa’s Herky the Hawk is ranked 54th, with critics thinking he needs to smile more. Villanova’s Will D. Cat is no. 47 and TCU’s Superfrog is no. 21. Missouri’s Truman the Tiger sits at no. 20, with a snarky note to Clemson saying “these are tigers done right.” Ohio State’s Brutus Buckeye is no. 11, while Akron’s Zippy the kangaroo is the bridesmaid at no.2. You can read the article to see what SI thinks is the tourney’s best mascot.

St. John's University's Johnny Thunderbird.

In full disclosure, there are many online mascot rankings, with vastly different results. I’d guess there’s more than a little personal bias in such “rankings.” For example, Yahoo Sports published a list that would make you think the two entities were writing about the proverbial apples and oranges, the differences are so great.

Finally, because this post could go on forever, I’ll share with you a compilation of some of the most unusual names of this year’s players: Solo Ball (UConn), Chandler Bing (Vanderbilt), Ben Humrichous  (Illinois), Michelangelo Oberti (Penn), Penn’s TJ Power, forward, (ha ha! Get it?), Poohpha Warakulnukroh (UCF), Federico Federico (Texas A&M) and Oluwabukola “Bukky” Oboye, Santa Clara.

PA announcers have probably been rehearsing them for days.

Go Chandler!

And go Duke, for the sake of my bracket!

Do be a Becorn

I'm almost embarrassed to admit that I’m having serious trouble coping with the current events of our country and the world. I find myself in an emotional condition that is totally new to me — seriously pent up anger, hatred, disbelief, frustration and incredulity are consuming me.

I just can’t any more with the political landscape of these less than united states, and I have found myself enjoying guilty pleasures provided by the sweet creativity of others.

So I’m taking on the task of sharing these sweet discoveries with you, because I’m sure I’m not the only one suffering from the catastrophic news of the minute.

Today, I’m introducing David M. Bird, artist and creator of Becorns. 

Photo credit: David M. Bird Facebook page

“Becorns are characters made from acorns and sticks, then photographed in the wild with real animals,” Bird states on his Facebook page. “The process usually involves a study of animal behavior, bird seed, and a lot of patience.”

I’m thinking patience doesn’t even begin to describe the work of this man who has brought so much pleasure and enjoyment into my life. The characters themselves are thoughtfully designed, painstakingly assembled and lovingly stored when not tasked with an outdoor assignment.

He surveys his property for the exact right spot for a scenario he has planned, he creates a drawing of the scene he hopes to capture photographically, he sets the scene up and then camps out with the patience of a monk to capture the desired image.

Photo credit: David M. Bird Facebook page

Anyone who has ever attempted nature photography knows it is a game of hurry up and wait. It is a lonely, mostly thankless task that involves early morning and late night treks into wilderness areas, with no promise of return on time investment. For every single image that a photographer puts forth for public consumption, there are probably a thousand others that never see the light of day. My friend Kevin Moore, a well-known street and nature photographer, says he often depends on the photographic technique known as “spray and pray.” Roughly, that translates to quickly shooting a bunch of frames and praying there’s one good one. The great shot of the eagle in flight, with a perfect wing-spread, is not a one-and-done lucky shot. It is the result of squatting in the woods for hours, in all weather conditions, hoping to spot an eagle, let alone getting a decent shot.

So with that background, I pay homage to the efforts of the Becorn creator. Bird is at once an artist, a builder, a costume designer, a carver, a scriptwriter, a director, a set designer, a photographer and editor.

And after all the planning, building and shooting, he shares his work with us. I have spent more hours than I care to admit with the likes of the Jon Jon brothers, GoGo, Lord Gourdon, Kipling and a host of other characters. The Becorns are guards and protectors, they are companions and witnesses and sometimes they are hosts, offering seeds or berries to birds and small woodland creatures. I’ve sadly watched one be torn apart by a squirrel, but they are made of acorns, after all.

On top of the great content, Bird's narration on each video is a medicine all of its own. His soothing voice is the icing on top of the multi-layered video cakes he serves. He is indeed just what this nation's collective physician called for.

I don’t want to give too much away. I encourage you to visit David M. Bird’s Facebook page and immerse yourself in the adventures of the mighty Becorns.

The little creatures are an innocent and benevolent distraction from the evening news!

Enjoy!

End of an (extremely generous) era

In this huge societal sea of inflation we find ourselves, struggling to stay afloat, there has been a island of respite, an oasis of hospitality, throwing its doors open to all, offering inflation-proof deals so that all could maintain some semblance of a social life.

That island of hospitality is known formally as Red Brick Station but informally has been a Cheers of sorts to many over the 29 years it has existed. While many bars claim to be that bar where everyone knows your name, RBS is one of those that most closely resembles that philosophy, in my humble experience.

I say that RBS has been a sea of respite because while the prices of pretty much everything have skyrocketed in the past several years — to say nothing of the nearly 30 years that Red Brick has been around — the bar has been famous for its $1 beer Tuesdays.

Photo credit: Red Brick Station

Now here’s an important thing to know about Red Brick. It’s a true brew pub — one of the first in the state. Owner Bill Blocher was crafting his own beer and serving it in his pub before the term craft brewery was coined (or so it seems). So, in exchange for those one-dollar bills slid across the bar, customers received a pint of GOOD beer. I’m not talking Natty Bo here (no offense to Natty Bo drinkers, but it’s pretty bad beer).

Red Brick’s everyday beers — Daily Crisis, Something Red and Avenue Ale, for example — could be had for a buck each and seasonal specials were available for two bucks. Somewhere along the line, seasonal brews were upped to $3 but the line was held on the main character beers.

I first discovered Red Brick’s bargain beers around 1999. I had taken a huge pay cut to leave local government for a job in community journalism, and my colleague Christina Radice and I started going because that’s what a couple of broke reporters could afford. Those bar outings became a weekly tradition until Christina left the paper and I was forced to venture out on my own.

This past Monday, the restaurant posted an almost apologetic message on Facebook that invited customers to come in the next day for the final $1 beer Tuesday and announced that $2 beer Tuesdays would begin March 3.

My only shock about the price increase is that it didn’t happen at least 10 years ago. I worked in the restaurant business in the 1990s and 2000s. I saw beer prices go up many times over those years and then saw many more increases come over many years as a customer. Throughout all the industry and economic changes, Bill Blocher held the line, took the loss and continued in his role as the benevolent host.

And the bargains weren’t held to beverages only. A variety of food specials offer less expensive ways to dine out, including half-price burgers on Mondays and a fish and chips meal on Thursdays that includes fries or cole slaw and a beverage.

But perhaps the biggest draw of Red Brick is that it’s a warm, friendly place to go. There are longterm staff members who really do remember your name and what you drink. It’s a fun, friendly place where you can talk to the person on the bar stool next to you or across the bar. Regulars get to know each other, and customers and staff alike fret when they notice a regular hasn’t been in for a while. The restaurant sits on the corner of its block on The Avenue in White Marsh. There’s outdoor seating on a patio that opens to a shopping center-wide entertainment space where concerts are held in warmer months and an ice rink forms during the winter months.

It’s a festive place to see and be seen, as the saying goes; a place where everybody really does know your name — but only if you want them to.

And did I mention you can get good beer for $2 on Tuesdays??

See you there!

Loser?

I’ve been mulling over this topic for a couple of days now, trying to let emotion fade and let logic or some other sensibility take over. That’s probably not going to happen so I need to write while this is still somewhat timely.

I’m going to apologize in advance for this piece being all over the place because that’s where my thoughts are. I obviously don’t have a snazzy lede or witty way of bringing you in so I’m just going to get to it.

I’m sick and tired of this stupid philosophy about winning and losing and a “what if” attitude about athletic competition at the Olympic Games.

Let’s remember that all athletes at the Olympics are big fish. They are all the cream of the crop, the bee’s knees, the best of the best, the absolute pick of the litter. While there is definitely a list of favorites going into any competition — thanks to economy, technology, cultural preferences and traditions and, let’s face it, privilege — all Olympic athletes are the very best their nations have to offer. They have all risen to a level of accomplishment few of us ever experience in anything.

The Olympics are the athletic equivalent of 1,600 high school valedictorians coming together to form the freshman class at Harvard. One of those brainiacs will finish last in the graduating class.

While I am a nearly life-long opponent of participation awards, every single Olympic athlete deserves recognition for committing a lifetime to sport; to sacrificing many “normal” activities en route to mastering their chosen sport and to representing their countries with pride. Being named to a national Olympic team is a victory.

So this business about a silver medal winner being asked if she won a silver medal or lost a gold medal just makes me burn.

I was so proud of Eileen Gu (an American-born skier who chooses to compete for her mother’s home country of China) when she put a journalist in his place I could have hugged her.

After Gu won her second silver medal in freestyle skiing at the Milano-Cortina Winter Olympics, John Weaver of Agence France-Presse asked her if she thought she gained two silvers or lost two golds.

Her immediate response was rather loud and incredulous laughter. And then she used her words.

“I am the most decorated female free skier in history,” she told Weaver. “I think that’s an answer in and of itself.”

“How do I say this,” she continued. “Winning a medal at the Olympics is a life-changing experience for every athlete. Doing it five times is exponentially harder because every medal is harder for me but everybody else’s expectations rise.”

And she had one final thought for the journalist: “And so the two medals lost situation, to be quite frank with you, I think is a kind of ridiculous perspective to have.”

Can you possibly imagine asking an Olympic athlete if they were sorry they had just won a silver medal (hockey players aside)? And before you answer, please refer to my above comments about these folks being the big fish, the cream of the crop.

Gu finished second in the WORLD at what is arguably the greatest, most prestigious, most coveted athletic gathering of them all, and a journalist asked her that stupid question. I was embarrassed for Weaver and so damn proud of Gu I could have cried.

This questioning reminded me of a billboard campaign Nike carried out in Atlanta during the 1996 Summer Olympics.

“You don’t win silver, you lose gold” was the Nike message, emblazoned on billboards strategically placed around Olympic Stadium, the athletes’ village and other high-traffic areas, that greeted athletes and spectators alike.

"Second place is the first loser," read another billboard.

I can remember being just as upset at those messages then as I am now.

Now, technically, anyone who doesn’t finish first in a race is a loser. Only first place wins any contest. I understand that. But there are three spots on the medal podium and every athlete wants to make that podium. Trust me that the silver medalist isn’t thinking, “what a big loser I am” as he or she watches their nation’s flag being lifted in the air, in front of millions of people across the globe. 

And if you want to bash the bronze medalist, or question the value of a third-place finish, just ask the fourth-place finisher what they think of that bronze medal.

While I’m going to compare apples and oranges here, this debate brought back some childhood memories. When I was a kid, there was a network of summer playgrounds sponsored by the Baltimore County Department of Recreation and Parks. Toward the end of each season, all the playgrounds gathered for a track and field meet held at Kenwood High School. 

Each playground held home site competitions to pick the kids who would compete at the meet. There were traditional events like footraces, broad jump, running long jump and baseball and softball throwing.

For several summers, I earned the spot in softball throw for my age group. My first time, I came in second, winning a red ribbon and valuable points for Country Ridge, my home playground (at the end of the day, trophies were awarded to the top three playgrounds based upon those accumulated points).

The girl who beat me was good. We got three attempts and every time I threw a little farther, so did she. She beat me three summers in a row. As we recognized each other each summer, we began to joke about already knowing we'd finish 1-2, with the only question being our final distances. I improved each year but so did she. If I threw 97 feet, she threw 99.

Around the fourth summer or so, she wasn’t there. She might have been sick, maybe she moved, maybe she lost interest and just gave it up. I never knew. I won the event that year and received a blue ribbon and even more points for Country Ridge. But I knew that, had she been there, I probably would have taken home another red ribbon. Because of that sense of competition, that series of red ribbons meant more to me than that blue one ever did.

Athletes cherish competition. They don’t want anything handed to them. They train, they dedicate themselves, they perfect their craft, they create new, bold and dangerous moves, they strive to reach heights never before reached and they give it their all. Some days, that results in a gold medal. On other days, it results in an eighth-place finish or worse, a career-ending injury.

At these recently concluded Winter Olympics, I saw joy and pride and excitement on all three levels of the medal podium, with the exception of both men’s and women’s ice hockey. 

Trust me that those second- and third-place finishers were thrilled to climb up on that podium, thrilled to bend down and have their necks draped with a coveted Olympic medal, thrilled to watch their flags hoisted high above the crowd and thrilled to spot their proud friends and family members in the stands.

Trust me that they were not lamenting losing a gold medal.

We need to do better.