Of the 68, four remain. Of my 31, two remain.

The NCAA Men’s Basketball Tournament advances to Round #6, the Final Four.

Four teams remain standing of the starting sixty-eight: Michigan State, Duke, Kentucky and Wisconsin. Among them, there are two of my chosen thirty-one: Michigan State and Wisconsin.

On Saturday evening, April 4, 2015, in Indianapolis, Indiana, the Michigan State University Spartans from East Lansing, Michigan (“Green and White. . . . Fight! Fight! Rah! Team, Fight! Victory for MSU!”) will take the court against the Duke University Blue Devils from Durham, North Carolina (“Fight! Blue Devils, Fight! Blue and White”). Later that night, the University of Kentucky Wildcats from Lexington, Kentucky (“On, On, Blue and White, Kentucky Fight”) will face the University of Wisconsin Badgers from Madison, Wisconsin (“On, Wisconsin! Red and White. Fight! Fellows! – fight, fight, fight!”).

These are all good teams from great schools with winning programs in sports and academics and equally vigorous fight songs.

Prognostications are difficult but observations are available.

Two of the surviving four hale from my alma mater’s conference: Michigan State and Wisconsin are from the Big Ten. This is the third straight year that one conference has placed two teams in the Final Four (Kentucky and Florida from the Southeastern Conference in 2014 and Louisville and Syracuse from the Big East in 2013), but I am not aware that any conference has ever had two of its teams advance to play each other in the final National Championship game. For this reason, I read the nets to indicate that both Big Ten teams may not advance.

Two of the surviving teams have the same school colors: Blue and White adorn Kentucky from the Southeastern Conference and Duke from the Atlantic Coast Conference. For similarly garbed squads to race in streaks across the floor would wreck havoc to those watching, announcing and applauding WHO?? For this reason, the baskets tilt to indicate both teams of the blue and white may not align each against the other for the Tournament Finish.

So, if both Michigan State and Wisconsin do not advance and both Kentucky and Duke do not advance, who do advance? And if they both each don’t do that, who does advance? That is exactly the question and precisely why it is called March Madness.

You know, I think every round is better than the one before.

And each game is better than the last.

How can that be?

Must be

March

Madness

And the Big Dance!

Grandpa Jim

Oh, the horror of the devastation.

In a single day, yes, a single day, all five Texas teams fell.

Amid the flashing lights and clamoring reporters, the conquerors of the courts leaped in jubilation and marshaled their forces to advance and play again.

There is no need to name those who have fallen. We know them well. They are our schools.

There is no need to name those who have advanced. We know them well. They are our schools.

Seven of my thirty-one survived the first three rounds and now march forth under the banner of the “Sweet Sixteen” to do further battle.

We salute their advance and wait to take our seats again in dread and hopeful anticipation.

In this small time between, let us take a moment to reflect on the nature of time and the manner of memory.

Reflection of “Still Alice”: In the academic setting of this recent movie, we run, walk, stumble and numbly watch with Professor Alice, played by Julianne Moore. Julianne received the Oscar for Best Actress for her portrayal of Alice’s struggle with Alzheimer’s disease. Her memory fails and is lost. Yet, she is still Alice who knows who she is and what she was in the shell of her remaining self. The lesson we learn from Alice, through the tears of our frustration with her failing mind, is that each life, despite its brevity, is a unique experience to be treasured in the manner and time we have to hold and share it.

Reflection of “The Theory of Everything”: In the academic setting of this recent movie, we run, walk, stumble and fall smiling with Professor Stephen Hawking, played by Eddie Redmayne. Eddie received the Oscar for Best Actor for his portrayal of Stephen’s struggle with Lou Gehrig’s disease. His body fails and is lost. Yet, he is still Professor Stephen Hawking who can see the heart of the universe as his twisted body breaks the hearts of those around him. The lesson we learn from Stephen, through the tears of our frustration with his failing body, is that each life, despite its brevity, is a unique experience to be treasured in the manner and time we have to hold and share it.

A Best Actress lost her mind. A Best Actor lost his body. In showing us those losses, they showed us that the persons they portrayed did not loose either.

Despite their adversities, they both, in their own time and in their own manner, prevailed and won.

It is in how we handle loss that we truly win.

Twenty-four of my teams have already lost and boarded their buses for home. Yes, it is only a sport and a game, but in its way, it is life. Only one team will win the tournament. Even if it is one of mine, thirty will have not. In all, sixty-seven teams will have lost.

That is life.

Despite the losses, I suspect every one of the players on every one of the teams, including those of the final winner, will remember the tournament as a unique experience to be treasured in the manner and time they have to hold and share it.

In that, I think Professors Alice and Stephen would be quite proud of them.

In my way, I know that I am of each of them.

That is life.

 
Grandpa Jim

Iditarod – run – ran – run!!!

In the cold dark morning of March 18, 2015, the lone musher “Hike’d” his team up the last white hill, into the waking town, between the waiting police escort running beside him with their flashlights, over the snow-packed streets, past the gathering cheering crowds, and under the finish arch of the 2015 Iditarod.

Exhausted, Dallas Seavey knelt, hugged his dogs and posed for pictures with Reef and Hero, his two lead dogs. Ten dogs had started the run from Safety to Nome to bring them home. One dog, too worn to pull, had been lifted to ride the last miles in the sled. The rest pulled and Dallas mushed. They were a team. They ran together. They won together.

By Iditarod standards, Dallas is young. He is only 27, but he is a local, state, national and world wrestling champion, he was the youngest person to have run the Iditarod, this is his tenth race, and now he and his team have run to that far distant place for their third Iditarod championship.

It runs in the family.

Dallas’ grandfather ran the first Iditarod in 1973. With this year’s race, Dallas’ father, Mitch, has run 23 Iditarods, and Mitch Seavey has two Iditarod championship trophies of his own. For the 2015 race, Dad Mitch and his team crossed under the arch in Nome second behind his son.

It runs in the family.

For the reporters, Dallas had these words: “It takes a whole team to get any of us here. . . . As long as you take care of the dog team, make good decisions, good things will happen. Wins are a result of doing what we love.”

Good advice from a young champion who loves what he does so well.

Congratulations, Dallas, and now get some well earned rest.

Your Dad will be along soon and then, you know.

You can start the planning for next year.

Run – Ran – Run!!!

Iditarod!

Grandpa Jim

The Dance and Madness have begun!!!

Yesterday, on Selection Sunday, March 15, 2015, the 68 teams of the NCAA Men’s Basketball Tournament were identified by name. That’s right — by name. For their followers, and they are many, these are exciting times in the land of hoops, dribbles and baskets.

This morning, my hopes were up. I grabbed the paper, turned to the Sports section, and began to trace a finger down the page.

My immediate concern was how many of “my” teams actually made the cut. Each year, some very good teams are snubbed and not selected to participate. It must be said that the process of selection is long, complicated and difficult. So, despite the time, effort and good will of the selectors, the outcome is never perfect — especially for those non-selectees with very good won-loss records. Last year, my hometown Dallas SMU Mustangs did not receive an invitation to the “Big Dance”. At that time, there was much sadness on the streets of Big D.

Like all good fans, I have to have “my” teams. And, for the Big Dance, I must define “my” broadly to capture as many teams as possible. Only by being generous in my loyalty and affections, can I increase the odds that some of “my” teams will remain through the seven rounds of play and possibly make the National Championship game on April 6, the Monday after Easter Sunday.

To paraphrase Ned Ryerson from the movie “Groundhog Day”, that first week is a doozy. Between the opening bell to start the first game of the First Round on Tuesday, March 17, St. Patrick’s Day, to the final buzzer of the game to mark the end of the Third Round on the following Sunday, March 21 (a span of a scant six days), the starting field of 68 teams will be pared to 16 remaining squads. This means that only 23% of the original selected teams will win their way to the Sweet Sixteen. That first week could be called “The Loud Lament.” The sadly departing are many, and the happily remaining are few. Truly, the frantic pace of those first six days merit the term “March Madness.”

So, I asked frantically, are “my” teams there?

Relief attended my dashing digit.

Yes, my original home state is well represented: Iowa (my alma mater), Iowa State (my brothers’ alma mater), and Northern Iowa (the old State Teachers College from our childhood hometown). That’s 3.

But, I must have more.

My adopted state of Texas is there also: Baylor (my wife’s alma mater – good move, selection committee), Texas Southern (from the town I lived in for thirty years), Steven F. Austin (in the Piney Woods), Texas (a niece went there and Pecan Street is there), and SMU (the Mustangs made it – the streets of Dallas are alive with the sound of cheers). That’s 3 plus 5 more, for 8.

I still need more of mine to make the run.

Wait, Iowa is in the Big Ten, and I am a Big Ten fan, and the Big Ten has six more teams in the race: Indiana, Maryland, Michigan State, Ohio State, Purdue and Wisconsin. That’s 6 to add to 8. I’m up to 14 teams.

Not enough. More are needed.

Wait again, Iowa State, Baylor and Texas are in the Big 12, and I’m a Big 12 fan, and the Big 12 has four more teams in the Big Dance: Kansas, Oklahoma, Oklahoma State and West Virginia. That’s 4 more to add to 14. I have 18 teams, a good start.

But, even more are needed.

Let me think. Yes, I have good reasons to clap and holler for others of those selected: Cincinnati (another niece lives there and her son plays basketball), Buffalo (a pretty place I visited in the summer), Butler (an exciting team we watched over pizza), Notre Dame (I have many friends who believe in leprechauns – especially this week), Wichita State (I’ve driven by the city many times), New Mexico St. (I love New Mexico), Arkansas (our little flower girl lives in Little Rock with her mother who is yet another niece), Lafayette (I like Cajun food), LSU (I’ve traveled often to the Red Stick, Baton Rouge), Louisville (I remember an exciting run for the finish), Boise State and North Florida (who doesn’t like an underdog – may be a few more in this category as the games progress), and Georgetown (they accepted me once, a long time ago, but I never forgot). There, you see, I have many good reasons to include at least 13 more schools. That’s 13 plus 18.

I’m up to 31 teams on “my” roster of schools to watch and wait and hope to see on April 6^th.

You know, I’m sure there are more.

This is going to be fun.

Let’s see now.

Who else?

Grandpa Jim

Aliy is taking a break.

Aliy Zirkle was the second sled into Galena, behind 4-time Iditarod winner Jeff King. Galena is an old mining town on the Yukon River. At that point in race and time, Jeff was technically in first place and Aliy in second in “The Last Great Race” across Alaska.

Galena, population 527, is the 5^th of 16 checkpoints before the final run from Safety to Nome. Galena is 396 miles along the trail, with 583 miles yet to sled past the checkered flag and home.

At each stop, or checkpoint, the musher has the option to rest or continue on. Aaron Burmeister did the latter. At Galena, Aaron checked in, dropped the pen, stretched his legs, jumped back aboard, yelled, “Hike!” (another term for Mush! or Let’s go!) and off he and his dogs went flying into the bitter cold. It was -17F (-27C) outside. That was a brief 19-minute breather, and it put Mr. Burmeister, for a time, at the top of the pile ahead of Jeff and Aliy, but Aaron has yet to take one of his mandatory “layovers”.

Enroute, each driver must take an 8-hour and a 24-hour layover before qualifying to cross the line in the snow on the coast near the Bering Sea.

I think Aliy is taking her first “official” nap in Galena.

There is strategy at work here: when to stop and when to mush on. It can make a difference, and this makes the early statistics difficult to interpret. A musher could be in the lead one minute, and the next minute, that racer could be asleep with other sleds passing in dreams over their head to take the lead. Only after the leaders have all checked their sleeping bags and are all on the trail to the finish, will we be able squint and see who really has that top sled.

Speaking of squinting, my favorite word picture from the trailing reporters was this one made over the night: “Jeff King is on the move, followed by Aliy Zirkle. . . . We caught up with him on the river not too far out of town and his team was moving extremely well. 10 plus miles before hour. No wind to speak of and Northern lights dancing above. That run does not get much better than that.”

I begin to see why someone would run a piece of wood and leather for almost a thousand miles over snow and ice behind a team of leaping, panting, barking dogs.

I begin to, and then I realize there are some things you can watch and follow, but never completely understand.

Some things are better that way.

Time to take a break and dream of Nome and home.

And wake, get back on, yell “Hike”, and fly away into the snowy night.

Grandpa Jim

The Iditarod has started!!!!

The Iditarod Annual Dog Sled Race Across Alaska, “IADSRAA” – to coin a new name, has begun. Iditarod, as it has been locally known for the 43 years since its beginning, is the dog sled race across the snow in the cold from Willow, near Anchorage, to Nome, Alaska. Only, this year, there wasn’t much snow, it wasn’t very cold (by Alaskan standards), and the start of the race was moved to Fairbanks, Alaska — for, hopefully, more snow and cold. Though conditions may have changed, it is still the race to reach the “far distant place”, the “Iditarod”, and Nome by the Bering Sea.

Monday morning, May 9, 2015, at 10:00 AM, local time, the first musher, a rookie to this race, 48-year old Rob Cooke, originally from Worcester, England, (Yes, the home of the original Worcestershire sauce), who now resides in Whitehorse, Yukon Territories, Canada, mushed his team of huskies across the start line and on toward Nome!!!! That was exciting just to say. I can’t imagine what it was like to be there.

Every two (2) minutes after Rob, another sled, musher and dog launched into the cold for the run to the coast and Nome.

Mitch Seavey, 55, whose dad ran the first Iditarod in 1973, was lucky #17 out of the start gate. You may recall that Mitch won two years ago in 2013 in an exciting finish, for a 1,000 mile dog sled race, just minutes ahead of Aliy Zirkle, who I was cheering on to the finish. Go Aliy! Aliy has finished second the last three years. Last year in 2014, she was 2 minutes and 22 seconds behind the winner, Dallas Seavey, who is Mitch’s son and who finished with the fastest Iditarod time ever at 8 days, 13 hours, 4 minutes and 19 seconds. Now, that’s a race. Go Dallas! By the way, dad Mitch was third behind Aliy last year. Go Mitch!

Aliy and her dogs were #31 out of the chute at 11:00 AM local time, followed 28 minutes later by Dallas Seavey in the #45 slot. If Aliy wins, she won’t be the first woman to win the Iditarod. Susan Butcher claimed Iditarod victories in 1986, 1987, 1988 and 1990 before retiring to raise a family. Go Susan!

To review: On March 9, 2015, 78 sled dog teams started the long and grueling mush to the Bering Sea and the Joe Redington, Sr. Trophy to be awarded the 2015 Iditarod winner.

Next Wednesday, on St. Patrick’s Day, March 17, 2015, 68 basketball teams will start the long March maddening pace of the big dance to the 2015 NCAA Men’s Basketball Championship and the Wooden Trophy awarded the prevailing squad whose members earn the right to cut down the nets at the end of play.

If Dallas Seavey’s speed last year is an indicator, the last musher to reach Nome will claim the Red Lantern awarded to the last sled to reach that far distant place about the time the surviving Sweet Sixteen basketball teams complete the first weekend of hoops play and board their planes for the next round of games.

This means the tired mushers of the Iditarod can rest and recuperate with their feet propped up, before their televisions sets, and enjoy two full weekends of championship basketball — maybe more, if they hurry.

Now, there’s a reason to mush even faster to Nome.

Go mushers! Sled, glide and slide.

Go teams! Dribble, run, leap and shoot.

Rain, snow or shine, these are exciting times.

Grandpa Jim

In an interlude of sleep, I saw these words, grabbed a pen and wrote on a pad in the dark:

“That I may worry

“And work to find the answers

“To my worry”

Not sure what that meant, I focused on the four words in the order recorded: “Worry Work Answers Worry”.

And there, I realized, could be different meanings, depending on where the punctuation marks were placed: 1) Worry? Work! Answers Worry. – The cure for worry is work; 2) Worry Work. Answers? Worry? – If the cure for worry is more work, why do I still worry? 3) Worry!! Work!!! Answers Worry. – Work harder! 4) Worry? Work? Answers? Worry? – Maybe something else is going on here. What is the answer?

And so it went, back and forth, Worry and Work and more Worry with no Answers, until the following sequence drifted to mind:

Inanimate objects do not worry.

Only human mortals seem to really worry.

Dogs don’t really worry. They fidget and bob and hope.

Human mortals worry more and more. We are in a constant state of worry.

And, only human mortals worry and work and hope to Not Worry.

Dogs don’t – they spin and scratch and hope for more.

Humans work and seek the state of Not Worry.

Dogs don’t. They sit, beg and smile.

And wait for the next biscuit.

Human mortals believe Not Worry can and does exist.

But, humans know Not Worry is not truly achievable as mortals.

Human experience demonstrates mortality does not possess Not Worry.

Yet, humans continue in a shared belief that Not Worry does exist somewhere.

If Not Worry is not here, where is it?

If not in mortality, where?

We must believe Not Worry exists in a state beyond mortality.

And, to be beyond mortality, Not Worry would be a state of immortality.

Do humans believe in immortality because Not Worry is accepted and not here?

Everything here is here mortal, but not so Not Worry, which we know is not here?

To believe is to accept something as true that cannot be proven.

Therefore, in our worry, we accept Not Worry, which cannot be shown to be true.

Belief in Not Worry demonstrates a common human belief in immortality.

For Not Worry there is no earthly proof, yet we believe it exists.

That belief demonstrates human belief in the immortal.

Immortality, of course, cannot be proven.

Perhaps its belief can be shown.

It appears for humans.

If not for dogs.

Don’t worry.

And, try to get a good night’s sleep.

Tonight.

Grandpa Jim

In the history of the Star Wars, the Second Trilogy was filmed first. This means Episode IV, “Star Wars – A New Hope,” was released first on May 25, 1977, followed three years later on May 21, 1980, by Episode V, “The Empire Strikes Back,” and three years after that on May 25, 1983 by Episode VI, “Return of the Jedi.”

At this point, we, the viewing audience, thought, “It’s over.”

I remember the first “Star Wars.” That was how we all heard and thought of “Episode IV.” I don’t think we even noticed the “Episode” number or the “New Hope” title. The movie was “Star Wars.” That was it, and it was slow to receive attention.

Some weeks after the film’s release, a friend stopped me and said, “You should see this movie.”

I did. I went with a young, blond-haired boy who was our first son. It was our first Star Wars. After that, things were not the same for us and for many others. They never would be. There is still an army of Star Wars figures and Lego spacecraft from those first three shows hidden in ambush in our storage units. The movie and the two sequels were a game changer, a life changer, a generation mover and a family of new friends flung to the far-away stars. To this day, I can transport myself back to the theatre for that first opening scroll, hear the music of a space opera, and anticipate the mystery and excitement of a new adventure.

It is fortunate and unfortunate that real people are behind those scenes. I would like to think it all occurred in a galaxy far, far away, but I know in my mind, if not my heart, it occurred not so far away in and around a star system called “Hollywood.” Admittedly, that is a place in space perhaps as surreal as the show itself, but it is nonetheless a real, if unreal, place. The characters we watched with wonder were actors, the words were written and the action scripted – all by characters of and on our planet. With that, I have burst the bubble, and, for that, I apologize. All good things must come to their end and be revealed.

Only, they didn’t and they weren’t, and it wasn’t over.

Those guys in the back rooms under the palm trees with the pens and special effects wouldn’t give up when they were ahead – one trilogy and three episodes ahead of their time. They had to go back, and we couldn’t wait. It was a new and old generation, the children of the first three shows now parents of the children of the next three shows, all waiting in line for the fourth show which should have been the first show. It was all wonderfully confusing. Our universe was turned upside down, and we couldn’t wait.

On May 19, 1999, twenty-two years after the first Star Wars and sixteen years after the last episode, the next “Star Wars Episode I: The Phantom Menace” was released to jumping, howling, waiting, screaming fans around the world. The first of the First Trilogy had landed and was among us. As our tiny planet in a backwater of the cosmos bridged forward from its Second to its Third Millennium, Star Wars imploded backward from its Second to its First Trilogy. The skies above and the ground below were new and unknown, and, at times and in parts, they were old and familiar. That dry, odd fringe planet of Tatooine emerged again from obscurity. On this visit back in time, we met a young, blond-haired boy with a well-remembered last name, Skywalker, and a new first name, Anakin. Different and the same, we waited for the screen to explode.

In a next post (linearity may bow to patience here but persevere), we will begin to explore the First Trilogy of the now older story.

The wait was long.

Worth the wait?

Time it will tell.

Will it in time?

Find the Third.

The Third to find?

Mystery enshrouded.

Unshrouded mystery find?

Grandpa Jim