That pretty much sums it up.
I don't remember exactly how old I was the first time my dad took me to a WSU basketball game, but I do remember it. I remember sitting just in front of the band and being scared to death by the noise emitted by the seemingly endless sea of tubas, trombones and trumpets—not to mention the ravaged vocal chords of 10,000-plus screaming Shocker fans. I also remember two breakaway dunks by my all-time favorite Shocker Xavier McDaniel. (To this day, I have no idea if those two dunks ever really happened, but that's how I remember it.)
From listening to games in the back of my parents' car to watching them on the subscription-only Shocker Channel while sitting on the floor of their crowded bedroom, WSU basketball was a key component of my life—and still is today. When I was younger, my dream was to play for the Shockers. During the summer I used to spend up to five hours a day at the Y working on my game and practicing how I would run out of the tunnel to the strains of "Hail Wichita." I even attended WSU basketball camp for years just to get a chance to play on the Levitt Arena floor and hopefully get noticed by a coach.
That said, growing up a Shocker fan wasn't easy. It wasn't the popular thing to do, but I've never been one to jump on a bandwagon or choose the well-worn path. So, I stood defiant in the face of relentless teasing from childhood friends mockingly calling my basketball Mecca "Hurry Leave It Arena." To which I always countered with the rally cry of losers everywhere … "wait until next year." When that never materialized I would often pin my hopes on individual players, insisting that Jamie Arnold or Marvin Hill were destined to have their numbers retired and become NBA superstars.
But the thing was, during most of that time, the Shockers were bad. Really bad. I just never saw it. No matter how bad things got on the court, there was always a piece of my heart that just knew a better day was just around the corner—and when it came I was going to be front and center for all of the action and then scream "see, I told you" loud enough for everyone to hear.
So I waited.
And waited.
And waited.
Season after season passed and my unwavering fandom went unrewarded. But I wasn't alone. If there's anyone in the world who's a bigger Shocker basketball fan than me, it's my dad. He's the guy who gets to games two hours early just to make sure he doesn't miss anything, the one who takes two of every crappy, five-cent promotional item they pass out at the arena just so he has a back up—that guy. We've weathered this thing together and I have to say it's been pretty special.
Someone else who has been there for most of the journey is Carrie. Nothing says "I love you" quite like going to a Shocker game on Valentine's Day or your birthday or New Year's—or all three. Carrie has put up with my basketball-related mood swings, allowed me to work our travel plans around potential games and even let me plan our honeymoon to correspond with a preseason tournament (not to mention letting me go to a game a few hours after Reef was born). But somewhere along the way, she's become a fan too, one who even squeezed herself into the bleachers when she was nine months pregnant. And if you have ever been to what is now Koch Arena, you know that's saying something.
Going through all of those things together have been a little easier over the past 10 years or so. In 2006 we went to the Sweet 16 then and, following a brief dip back to mediocrity, Gregg Marshall has built a program that has gotten better and better each and every year. We've won conference championships, we've become one of the best road teams in the country and we've signed top-level talent (the kind that might actually make it to the NBA someday).
But none of that prepared me for this season's NCAA tournament. Even a dreamer like me, thought the Final Four was one dream that was just out of reach. But there we were and now all of a sudden everyone is a Shocker fan and I can finally scream "see, I told you so," but I don't really want to. Instead, I just want to sit back and enjoy watching my soon-to-be four year-old son play "Hail Wichita" on the iPod as he runs out of the "tunnel" in our basement pretending to be Ehimen Orupke, Carl Hall, Demetric Williams, Malcolm Armstead or Ron Baker "The Shot Maker."(Yes, that really happens.) For it looks like there's another generation of memories waiting to be made—I just hope he and his little brother don't have to wait as long as I did.
Here's a pic of the first and third generation of Lindeman Shocker fans at a game earlier this year.
Here's us before the Ohio State game, the button I'm wearing is the same one pictured above, it became my good luck charm during the tournament.
