151207 December 7, 2015

It Really Doesn't Matter

Whether You Win Or Lose...

by Tommy Towery

LHS '64

        We are well into this year’s college basketball season and Sue and I are thoroughly enjoying our season tickets to the University of Memphis Tigers’ games. Tonight as I sat in our FedEx Forum third-tier seats (we love it but we are not fanatical enough to spend a fortune on seats) I pondered how much I enjoy watching the games these days. Now I know the rules, know the players, know the opposition and their key players, and know I can see fouls better from my high-up seats than the seeing-impaired referees five feet from the action. I can see when a player travels, double-dribbles, is wide open for a dunk, and I know what a fade-away-jumper is. I know the schedules and how many games need to be won to get to the championship.

        I think back to my school days at Lee and remember I went to as many basketball games as I could, both home and away games. I did not know any of the rules then, except a basket was worth two points and a free throw one.  Since I was short and the three-point shot was well into the future I never considered being a player myself. Basketball was for tall people and that certainly was not me. I had no idea what a point-guard was and how they did not have to be as tall as the other players to participate in the sport. But still I went to the games as an observer. I did not go to see Greg Dixon or J.R. Brooks show off their athletic skills (or pale white legs in their shorts) but for other reasons.

        I went to support my school and my team. I went to see the cheerleaders spin around and show off their much prettier legs. I went to see the cheerleaders of the opposing school’s team – for the same reason. I went to cheer “Fee, Fee-Fie, Fee-Fie-Foe....” I went to yell “Two bits, four bits, six bits, a dollar” and to stand up and holler when the time came. I went to have something to do with my male friends earlier in my high school days, and to have a date with my steady in my later years. I went to sit in the hard bleachers and hold hands with her and sit with our bodies touching and to stomp on the wooden bleachers when the opponent’s star was trying a free throw. I went to cheer our team and boo the other team.

        And when the game was over, I usually knew which team had won the game, but was not sure what tactics were used to do so or which player made the key play to insure victory or to snap a loss from the hands of victory. The games were always a starting place to make plans to cruise the Parkway between Shoney’s Big Boy and Jerry’s or to get fired up for a sock hop in the smelly gym on rare occasions after the games.