GO TO PREVIOUS SECTION: March 20th-March 26th
PART II, continued
March 27th to April 2nd
April 1, 2005
Last night was absolutely beautiful. We slept on a beach in Eureka, California, (our 13th and final night in the great state of California), and the beach featured this crazy tide that came in for about fifty yards or so, but the whole thing was only about an inch or two deep, so when you walked out into the ocean it looked from behind as if you were walking on water, particularly once the sun began to drop. It was wild. Meg and I shot picture after picture out there, and then sat on the sand and the water and just watched the sun duck out of sight. Beautiful. This morning we woke, packed up, and headed out, and when I turned on my phone I found two messages waiting for me. The first was from Dad.
“Hey Jack. Just wanted to let you know what’s going on. The Bulls and Cavs were going back and forth. We were up, then we were down, then we went back up, then the Cavs tied it up. Chandler got a layup and a free throw, and then with two seconds left, LeBron James hit a three to tie it. So we’re going into overtime now. Hope you guys are having fun. Talk to you tomorrow.”
“Ah man!”
“Who was that?” Meg asks.
“Message from my dad about the Bulls game last night. Went into overtime.”
“That’s all he said?”
“Well, I’ve got another message here. Hopefully it’s him.”
“Hey Jack. It’s 11 o’clock here, and I just realized that I never called you back with another report, and I didn’t want you going to bed wondering what had happened. The Bulls blew ‘em out in overtime on a 11-0 run, so we’ve won eight in a row now. I don’t remember what the final was. 102-92 or 102-90 or something. Bulls had 102 and it wasn’t close. So there you go. I’m going to bed now. Have a good night. Bye Jack.”
“OK! Bulls won in O.T.! Nicely done.”
“Oh good.”
“What a key update from Dad. You gotta appreciate that kind of dedication.”
This is what I’ve come to depend on. A world of sports being filled in for me by phone calls, internet, and television. No walking the streets of Evanston to feel Bulls fever growing. No seeing the signs at gas stations: GO BULLS! MARLBORO LIGHTS, $7.75 A PACK. No trips into Mustards…no rap sessions with Keith. No hourly updates from the Score. No local columnists in the Trib.
Today we’re continuing up the coast on Highway 101, heading all the way to Eugene, Oregon, home of the University of Oregon. In lieu of not being able to watch the Illinois-Louisville Final Four game tomorrow with friends or family, I decided that a sports bar on a big-time college campus would be the next best atmosphere. Being a Pac-10 school, I figured Oregon would be the place to do it. Nothing like rolling into a road bar to support your team, walking into a group that is watching a “national” game and being the one guy who will be watching the same game as a local fan. Unfortunately, I’ve got no U of I gear, so I’ll have to figure something else out. My Robinson Bears jersey, or the Santo jersey. Something Chicago…
******
This drive up the coast, particularly past San Jose, has been absolutely gorgeous. It’s like a movie…we drove on the winding highways with mountains on our right and the ocean on our left. We went through the Redwood Forests, and I finally understood the magnitude of “This Land is My Land.” These trees are incredible! The forest is like a secret compartment of the country; when you’re in there and other people drive through, you’re almost surprised that they found the place. We found an uprooted redwood, and Meghan and I each climbed into it. I truly had no idea that trees could grow to that size. It was awesome, in the truest sense of the word: I was filled with awe.
April 2, 2005
Good day.
The Illini made short work of the Louisville Cardinals today, and will be playing Monday night against the North Carolina Tar Heels. What a great matchup. Big Ten vs. the ACC. The hard working team-type team taking on a group of talented, high-profile super stars. A classic basketball school squaring off against a team looking for its first title in its 100 year history. The three-pronged guard assault of Dee, Deron, and Luther taking on the three stars of Carolina: Sean May, Raymond Felton, and Rashad McCants. Great basketball. Simple.
We found a nice hotel on campus last night, checking in and getting some dinner. Meg and I then rode around campus looking for frat-types to tell us where the hot spot to watch the game. It’s a nice campus—one that, interestingly enough, was home of “Faber College” in Animal House—with lots of grass and lots of trees. The campus areas reminded me a lot of Bloomington, while the surrounding housing areas reminded me a lot of Ann Arbor. We finally found a group of three guys walking with a basketball who looked about perfect; all three were clean shaven with white basketball shoes, U of O basketball shorts, and hoodies. They recommended a place nicknamed “The Barn,” which was indeed a big barn-looking place.
When we got back to the hotel, ESPN was in full “Eve of Baseball ’05” mode. I am glad that a new season is on the way, because perhaps we’ll finally be rid of this unending Red Sox sympathy barrage. You won already! Good lord! ESPN Classic was airing one of the eight million Red Sox documentaries that have been produced since the BoSox polished off St. Louis in the World Series last year; this one was like all the others, in which Red Sox fans of both the “regular guy” and celebrity fashions reflect on the pain of being a Red Sox fan. Of course, these are loaded with Buckner clips, and at the very least it was interesting to watch that with Meghan. She had never heard of Game 6, and when I explained the set up to her and allowed her to watch the clips of how it played out, she was shocked.
“Can that actually happen?” she asked incredulously. “I mean, that’s not even baseball, really. That’s a massacre.”
It’s always cool to show someone a great sports moment for the first time, and once that was done I was happy to change the channel and watch something else. I was too excited for the Final Four and the start of the Cubs season to wallow in Boston Red Sox pain, particularly pain that has since been alleviated.
Meg and I got to the Barn an hour before tip to make sure that we got good seats near a TV, and to our luck there was a huge wall-sized TV just past the pool tables. The crowd was primarily unbiased, though there were some guys in Louisville gear who Meghan and I kept glaring at.
Not a lot of time for that. Let him be The Opposition. I had a feeling that this game wasn’t going to be much of one, and I also had some work to do before tip. Earlier we had come up with a quick and handy wardrobe selection. Meg and I found a Wal-Mart, I bought a blank orange t-shirt and a black sharpie, and I made myself a makeshift Dee Brown jersey. Good stuff. I like Deron Williams a lot and all, but as a Chicago guy (Deron’s from Texas) and as a short underdog type, Dee was the obvious choice. We were seated on a couch against the wall with a large wooden desk-type table in front of us, and while Meg and I drank our first beers and took in some appetizers I drew out ILLINOIS 11 on the front and BROWN 11 on the back. I threw it on, tucked it in, and immediately felt right.
As for the game, my gut was correct: the Illini went up early and never let go. The game felt more like a precursor than a contest. By halftime it was clear to me that the Illini were meant to be in the championship game, and that the win over Arizona had actually been a ticket to Monday night with the Louisville game serving as a necessary step ladder.
Tomorrow it’s on to Seattle as we complete our drive up the coast. From there we head East to Missoula, Montana to see my camp friend Mike Cousins, and that means that once we hop onto I-90E, we’re officially on our way home.