Moving the Chains: March Sadness

By Scott Ludwig, [email protected]

I’ve looked forward to the annual NCAA basketball tournament well before anyone called it ‘March Madness,’ as Brent Musburger first did back in 1982.  It is my favorite event of the spring, if you don’t take into account the end of pollen season.  

But that all changed in 2020.  That was the year of the pandemic, and March Madness was canceled.  But that’s not the reason everything suddenly changed.

Rather, it’s because on March 27, 2020, Cindy and I lost a son.  

***

When Josh was 12, I took him to see the first-round games of the NCAA basketball tournament at the Georgia Dome.  That first day there were four games, lasting from noon until midnight.  The last time I saw him that excited before that was when he was sitting on Santa’s lap for the first time. 

By the time Josh was in high school, he was playing for his junior varsity basketball team.  But after suffering a concussion in a game in the middle of the season, he never was the same player again.  Or the same boy.     

After the concussion, Josh rarely joined his friends on the basketball court, or even his dear old dad to shoot baskets in the driveway – something we’d done together since he first learned to dribble.  Through it all, however, he never stopped following college basketball. 

***

Josh and I didn’t have many opportunities to share March Madness after that first time almost 30 years ago.  Between his various jobs – usually working at night – and spending time in a number of rehabilitation centers, he didn’t have a lot of time for basketball. 

But he never once lost interest in the game.  He called me every March to analyze how the NCAA tournament might play out.    

In 2014, Josh was home for the first weekend of March Madness.  The first-round games were the most exciting I could ever remember: four of the 16 games were decided in overtime.  Josh, although he was sitting on the couch with me for every one of them, hardly remembered anything about them.  Addiction is a terrible thing.    

***

Josh completed his final round of rehabilitation early in 2020.  For the first time in six years, he and I were looking forward to enjoying March Madness together.  Then suddenly, it was canceled.   So, on what was supposed to be the first day of the third round of the tournament, Josh spent the day in Kennesaw on the first day of his new job.  He also registered for courses he needed for his master’s degree and made the necessary living arrangements.  

But on his way home, Josh stopped somewhere along the road to make the last purchase of his life.  

He was gone the next morning, succumbing to the evil that tormented him for more than half of his time on earth.

***

I always thought – dreamed, actually – of the day that Josh would finally conquer his demons.  I had a picture in my mind of Josh stopping by to spend the weekend with Cindy and me.  Taking a break from his successful yet demanding job, pulling into the driveway in his brand-new car, dressed as he stepped right off the cover of GQ – and finally having the chance for the two of us to watch the NCAA tournament together.  

Like we did a long time ago, when a father introduced his wide-eyed 12-year-old son to March Madness for the very first time.  

***

This year, watching the tournament may be even tougher than it’s been the past four years.  The Florida Gators – our Florida Gators – have a really good team.  

This year’s squad, coached for the third season by Todd Golden, maybe even better than Billy Donovan’s teams that won back-to-back National Championships a generation ago.  

The only thing I would like more than seeing this year’s team go all the way would be sharing the moment with Josh.

While I’m sad that Josh won’t be sitting next to me, I find comfort in knowing he’ll be watching from the best seat in the house.