TERRE HAUTE —
Lights down, tree out, another year gone at the Classic.
It seems as though 2011 came to an end in more than one way for me on the last day of the year. Despite the gray chill of a damp afternoon, I managed to get the last of my Christmas lights unclipped from the gutters, reeled in my extension cords and dragged our needle-dropping tree out of the living room to reside near our wood line as a nesting spot for the birds.
But despite all the housecleaning chores — I also policed our yard for wind-blown bows and silk poinsettias — I’ve taken the time to reflect on the passing of another Pizza Hut Wabash Valley Classic, which in the past 12 years has become as traditional for me as eggnog and Yule logs.
I enjoyed this Classic perhaps as much as any I’ve ever seen. Of course, I say that every year. The PHWVC allows me, just for its four days, to pretend that I am a sportswriter again, gives me an opportunity to revive the column I started so many years ago and, in just a short period of time, allows me to watch about as much high school basketball as my backside can take.
Here’s a bit of what I took in…
• We interrupt this program — Gary Fears, the godfather of the Classic, is usually the first guy I look up when I get to the gymnasium for the opening game each year. His Day One jitters are as predictable as my appetite for Christmas fudge, so when he seemed a bit preoccupied in the half-hour before Bloomfield and Marshall kicked off the tournament Tuesday, I knew things were going according to plan.
“Things are out of sync today,” Gary said. He was worried about malfunctioning scoretable lights and a balky Internet connection, and whatever else someone who organizes a four-day event for 12,000 people has to worry about. A full gymnasium, a hard-working crew of Terre Haute North staffers and a good game later, Gary seemed to be past his technical difficulties and enjoying the basketball. That’s how the plan was supposed to go too.
• The sailor with the camera — I was happy to spend a little time during the Classic with Tribune-Star photographer Joe Garza. You would think that as a writer for the newspaper, I’d see Joe frequently, but that’s not the case, particularly not this year because he just got back from doing an overseas stint with the Navy.
“I was in a staging area on the Gulf of Aden,” Joe told me when he was explaining where he’d been. “You look one direction and there’s Somalia, and you look another and there’s Yemen, and in another there’s Ethiopia,” he said. “I knew I was getting acclimated to the heat over there,” he added, “when I told a friend one day that it ‘wasn’t bad’ outside. It was 95 degrees…” Joe said it regularly topped 120 degrees.
Despite it being a “dry heat,” I imagine that Joe was grateful to see it drizzling and 40 degrees here at home. We, on the other hand, should just be grateful for Joe.
• Oprah’s Book Club — One of the great things about covering games at the Classic is the great seat I’m given and the company I get to keep while sitting in it. Indiana State University men’s basketball coach Greg Lansing joined me in cushioned-chair comfort on the first and last days of the tournament, a trip to Iowa to face the Drake Bulldogs sandwiched in the days between.
Much to my surprise, Lansing said less about basketball in his time at my table than he did about books. “So, what are you reading these days?” he asked as he sat down just before he was to watch his prize recruit, Sullivan’s Rhett Smith, face Rockville in a great small-school matchup that went to the wire.
I discovered that Lansing likes thrillers and espionage, a genre with exciting finishes and non-stop action. “I mostly read when I am traveling,” he said. Let’s hope he can settle down with a great Vince Flynn novel on his way to an NCAA regional game with his Sycamores in March.
• Where the Buffalo Roams — I was joined for a while by Sheldon Oberholtzer, a former teaching and coaching friend of mine, who is reveling in the glories of retirement these days. As we chatted about this and that, Ernie Baysinger — a friend I’ve made through the Classic — walked by as he headed toward the aroma of a refreshment stand’s popcorn bags. Oberholzter interrupted himself in mid-sentence to ask, “Is that Baysinger?”
When I assured him that it was, he told me that Ernie was a real crackerjack player for the Freedom Aces at the time Sheldon played for neighborhood rival Patricksburg. Later, as the two reminisced a bit over the glories of Owen County hoops, Sheldon brought up Freedom’s Bob Buffalo, a “real good player.”
“I think it was the Brazil newspaper that used a headline one time about him that read that Freedom was ‘where the Buffalo roams,’” Oberholtzer said.
• Something in the water — I had a former student of mine stop by to point out that her son, the diminutive Luther Mathas, was warming up for Riverton Parke’s Panthers before they played Casey in the Classic’s third game. “He has to be the shortest player in the history of the tournament,” his mom, Joni, proudly told me. Being vertically challenged never stopped her from facing tough times, so I imagine that her 5-foot-4 sophomore son is more than willing to stick his nose into trouble too.
This Classic may have had more than its share of big players — no fewer than eight were 6-7 or better — but two of the best moments were supplied by its shortest participants, all on Parke County rosters.
As time wound down as the Panthers faced Rockville on Day Two, Mathas stepped onto the court at nearly the same time that Rox coach Dave Mahurin called Kiontre Wilkey’s number on the Rockville bench. Kiontre, a freshman, is listed as 5-8, but clearly Mahurin bought a defective measuring tape because Mathas has Wilkey by an inch. The two were squared off as the game’s final buzzer sounded.
Mathas and Wilkey may have had their moments in the Classic, but Turkey Run’s Justin Paddock stole the show with an appearance that fellow writer Andy Amey has written about as well.
Paddock, another freshman who’s around the 5-4 mark, wasn’t listed in the tournament program, but with about two minutes left in the Warriors’ loss to Terre Haute South, North’s cheer block (I’ll mention these fans later too) began chanting: “Put in Paddock… Put in Paddock…” With 1:30 left on the clock, Turkey Run Coach Grant McVay did just that.
With South defender Peter Tanoos giving Paddock a little space to shoot (one of the Classic’s classier moments) the TR guard hit nothing but net from the top of the key, and a celebrity was born. After the game, Paddock was deluged with high fives and autograph seekers — again, mostly from North’s young fans.
• As Julie Andrews would say … — Here are a “few of my favorite things,” from the Classic:
Best team warmup routine: Marshall Lions;
Best games: Rockville-Sullivan and North-South on Day One and West Vigo-Marshall on Day Four;
Best hair: That of a decidedly senior citizen who sat in the North stands sporting a spiked pink do on championship night;
Best dunk: Smith’s two-hand slam against the Rox;
Best T-shirt: One worn by a young man sitting in North’s seating section that read: “Lazy but talented”;
Best cheer block: It’s tough to beat Terre Haute North’s for size and originality (“If you’re losing and you know it, clap your hands,” was one of their favorites), but those from Marshall and Sullivan came very close;
Best Hospitality Room food that wasn’t pizza: Whoever made the chili can adopt me now;
Best moment on the floor not involving a basketball: The cheerleading at this Classic was outstanding, but when Sullivan and North’s cheerleaders hooked up in a back-flip showdown during a third-quarter break on championship night, they took it to another level;
Best singing of the National Anthem: If anyone can do a better job than 11-year-old Carsyn Wayland’s rendition just before the championship game Friday night, I’d like to hear it.
Another all-tournament team: Each year, an all-tournament team is selected, and everyone involved in the voting knows it’s a tough thing to whittle it down to just 10 players. I keep a running list in my notebook of guys who, although not always the biggest scorers, are always leaving skin on the floor, or setting screens, or making that last great pass. This list is far from complete too, but here’s my All-Dirty Work team: Bloomfield’s Curtis Hasler and Ben Hays; Monrovia’s Grant Benefiel; Riverton’s Cody Vauters; West Vigo’s Cade Lindsey and Nathan Gregg; Casey’s Zach Murphy; North’s Austin Lewis and Ross Sponsler; Marshall’s Logan Cannady and Taylor Maurer; Rockville’s Jordon McFall; Shakamak’s Brodie Crowe; South’s Danny Etling; South Vermillion’s Philip Harpenau; and Sullivan’s Caleb Turner. My Dirty Work Team Captain: Sullivan senior Bryce Bement.
And, so it went for another year…
Mike Lunsford
SIDELINES: Good for even a traditional Classic buff
- Mike Lunsford
-
-
A walk in the woods
I went for a walk in the woods one day last week after work. It was a warm and green afternoon, and a fresh blue breeze blew in from the west like a new spring friend.
-
MIKE LUNSFORD: ‘Dowsers’ provide hope more than science
My grandfather was a man of God. Many times I saw him, his right hand held high in the air at his Wednesday night “prayer meeting,” praising the Lord before weeping at the altar on his knees. And yet, he was a “dowser,” a “diviner,” a “witcher” who, as a favor, would grab a forked sassafras stick and find water for some poor unfortunate whose well had gone dry.
-
MIKE LUNSFORD: As of today, it’s unofficially spring
Despite the calendar telling us not to rush things, I think it is all right to go ahead and say spring is here. The Ides of March has passed, Easter is coming soon, and I have already been out in my yard with a rake, getting my boots muddy. It looks like spring to me.
-
MIKE LUNSFORD: Twain’s Sawyer helps us yearn for ‘wilderness of childhood’
My cousin, Roger, stopped in one day last summer for a glass of tea and a little conversation. Rog has lived an hour’s drive away for years and now, and besides summer reunions, I don’t see him nearly often enough. He’s a good man who has raised a good family, and he owns a healthy sense of appreciation for not only the life he has now, but also the lives we had years ago as kids.
-
MIKE LUNSFORD: Cheerful green of wheat fights winter blahs
There is a light drizzle of freezing rain tapping at the door of my cabin today. It is little more than a week before the words I am writing are due to appear on your breakfast table or work desk with your morning coffee and scrambled eggs. But I write when I can, and today, despite a full schedule of televised football games, and the stacks of ungraded papers in my briefcase, and a good book lying open on my nightstand, I am clacking away on a keyboard to the whir of a heater and the steady drip of my gutters.
-
MIKE LUNSFORD: On the simple joys of watching it snow ...
It began to snow about 20 minutes ago, as I write this, light, wind-driven flakes that fall silently into my woods as I watch from a window.
-
MIKE LUNSFORD: On this day above all, ‘Peace on earth, good will to men’
More than a year after his wife’s death, the great American poet, Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, wrote in his diary on Christmas Day.
-
MIKE LUNSFORD: Remembering a Lefty Frizzell-kind of Christmas ...
My brother and sister and I sat around a Thanksgiving dinner table a month ago, shifting in our seats just enough to make our yet-to-be digested turkey sit a little more easily, and, as we often do when we get together, we reminisced about our childhoods for a while.
-
MIKE LUNSFORD: The wonders of wading in ‘The Iridescence of a Shallow Stream’
I have no idea how many times I have written a story that begins with the wistful phrase, “When I was a boy. ...”
-
MIKE LUNSFORD: Little man who came to dinner changes feel of household
My 7-year-old nephew, Carson, came to visit us last week. That in itself isn’t earth-shattering news, for he often drops by with one of his parents or the other, the last time dressed as a ghoul for Halloween. But for a couple like Joanie and me, whose youngest child is now nearly two decades past Carson’s age, having a little guy like him in the house, even for a few hours, takes a bit of adjusting.
-
MIKE LUNSFORD: Reflections: a bit of red glass and our daily thanksgivings
I sat in the half-light of my old desk lamp a few nights ago, a chilly wind blowing in from the northwest that made me appreciative of my long-sleeved shirt and purring heater.
-
MIKE LUNSFORD: Growing up — and ‘old’ — with many mouths to feed
At our family reunion last summer, I asked my brother if I could borrow a pair of photo albums he had put together. Over the past couple of years, I have committed quite a few of our family’s old yellowing snapshots to newly cropped and digitalized lives, and I wanted to do the same with some of the pictures John has collected for himself.
-
MIKE LUNSFORD: Violets in October – a pleasant surprise
I guess I don’t pay much attention to the weather forecasts these days because it surprised me a bit when our furnace kicked on a few nights ago.
-
MIKE LUNSFORD: A library is a good thing — even a little, homegrown one
I grew up with libraries, and I can’t imagine there ever being a time when I won’t want to wander one exploring it like some bookworm-Balboa, finding an author or title that I never really knew existed before. Creating those “Eureka” moments seems to be a dying interest now that so many of us download and digest books electronically without ever really considering that there just might be some hidden gem we’d have liked even more had we simply stumbled upon it on a shelf by accident. I think those moments of discovery are not unlike kicking up lost treasure a mile from where X marks the spot.
-
MIKE LUNSFORD: The ‘soothsayer’ who came to dinner
I’ve had a good time opening my mail these past few weeks. Sure, I still received the usual junk about lower credit card rates and satellite television packages, but the genuine letters made me smile; most were about a story I wrote in late August.
-
MIKE LUNSFORD: The agony of de‘feet’ has this writer on his heels
I don’t know if I can electrocute myself by using a computer and soaking my feet in a pan of warm water at the same time, but I am contemplating taking the risk. My feet, particularly the right foot, have staged a 10-digit rebellion over the past few months. After a half-century of commendable service, my pods are screaming to be taken in for repairs, a big inconvenience for a guy who works on his feet all day and whose “sole” form of serious exercise is putting one foot in front of another walking the local roadways.
-
Mike Lunsford: Summer’s hidden beauty worth the wait
The great naturalist John Burroughs once said that nature teaches more than she preaches. I can’t recall a summer where that rings true more than this one, for that old sun of ours truly taught us a thing or two these past three months.
-
MIKE LUNSFORD: It’s time to redefine the concept of ‘assisted living’
Although it has been nearly two months now, I can’t forget the few afternoon hours I spent on a hot June day this summer at a local “assisted living” facility in town. I had been asked to speak to a group of men there about Father’s Day, but for most part, the wonderful old guys who came to listen certainly made my day more memorable than I did theirs.
-
MIKE LUNSFORD: Observations on smooth stones and blue-green water…
It was raining when I began to write this. Although no one could rightfully call what we got this afternoon a “downpour,” it was nice to have my windows open to hear the steady drops of a passing shower tapping on my dry-as-dust deck and hard-as-concrete yard.
-
MIKE LUNSFORD: This summer has us recalling the heat of ’36
It was “only” 99 degrees one afternoon last week when I decided to work on a backyard deck. With a jack and a drill and a little more sweat than I wanted to invest in the project, I went about the business of leveling its sags and dips a bit. The sun pounded down on my head and shoulders like a thug’s blackjack, but as I packed my tools and drank a glass of cool water under a big maple tree a few hours later, I couldn’t help but think about how lucky I’ve been these past few dusty and drought-stricken weeks. I have worked under this summer’s heat lamp for only a few hours at a time, but God help the roofers and utility linesmen and firemen, and so many others, who are out in it day after long hot day.
-
MIKE LUNSFORD: We had no better friend than Andy Taylor
The world is a sadder place now that Andy Griffith has died, but at least we still have Andy Taylor.
-
MIKE LUNSFORD: Wading deeper into the subject of Blue Herons
Like a relative who has worn out his welcome, the hot, parched weather of this young summer has already overstayed its visit with us, so my wife and I have found ourselves walking our road later in the evenings to keep our feet cool and our backs dry.
-
MIKE LUNSFORD: Thanking two dads whose gifts have never stopped coming…
It is nearly a week until Father’s Day, but I have had my dad, and my father-in-law — a second dad to me — on my mind today. I wrote about both men just a few weeks ago, but I have set my mind to write about them again anyway. I don’t want this story to be sad; they both loved to laugh and wouldn’t want that. No, I just wanted to tell them hello, and to thank them again for what they still do for me.
-
MIKE LUNSFORD: Raising a flag for my father, veteran or not
My daughter, Ellen, and I stood at my parents’ graves on Mother’s Day a few weeks back and talked about how it couldn’t possibly have been so long since we lost them. My dad, for instance, has been gone for 16 years, and that is nearly unimaginable
-
MIKE LUNSFORD: Time to become one of the boys of summer again …
Besides writing for a living, I teach school, and I’m not ashamed to tell people that I still love my classroom. I’ve been a teacher for 33 years, all of them in the same school district, and virtually all of them in the same building. But I also have to tell you that if the next few weeks don’t slide by pretty quickly, I may just let loose of the last thread of sanity from which I have been dangling for a while now. There are a lot of teachers out there who feel the same way.
-
MIKE LUNSFORD: It’s time for us to get the real lowdown on dirt…
I have had my hands in the soil as of late. Two Fridays ago, I planted a viburnum bush, three chrysanthemums and a yellow poplar, not because it happened to be Earth Day, but because it was sunny and warm, and I had the whole afternoon to myself. The dirt I scraped out of and back into the shallow holes I dug near a backyard picket fence smelled good, and when dampened with a few sprinkles of water, it soon found its way into the deep wrinkles of my knuckles and under my fingernails. For the most part, I have nothing but good things to say about dirt.
-
MIKE LUNSFORD: Make big money: Raise worms at home for fun and profit…
When I think about all of the crazy things my brother and sister and I did just to make a few dollars when we were kids, I can’t help but feel a little sorry for teens this summer as they try to find jobs in what is supposed to be a very tight market. Money, to say the least, was a rare commodity when we were growing up, but you have to at least give us credit for trying.
-
MIKE LUNSFORD: ‘When lilacs last in the dooryard bloom’d…’
Had white lace curtains been hanging in the west window of my cabin, I would have had a perfect Wyeth painting to watch last Thursday. A gentle breeze was wafting through my screens, and the sunlight of a warm late March day was fractured by the window sill as it poured onto my legs and feet. I could catch the scent of lilacs as it was carried in by that wind, and it and the subtle melody of the chimes that hang just outside made me as lazy as an old cat.
-
MIKE LUNSFORD: A report from the country as a new season brings sense of renewal
Regardless of what the calendar may yet say, spring has happened. It couldn’t have come too soon, and it wasn’t just last week and its windy 70s that have convinced me. I have been keeping a journal of sorts in my head for a fortnight now, stashing away reports of birds and buds and sounds in the crammed cabinets of my mind, all in a file marked, “The New Season.”
-
MIKE LUNSFORD: Feeding time at the homestead draws a host of new guests
I stepped outside into the warmth of an unusually mild early March morning last week to do what I always do just before I grab my briefcase and book bag and lunch bag and head off to work. It’s nearly always dark when I leave, even as the sun gets up earlier and earlier in the late winter, so I often go about the business of feeding our cats with porch lights on and a flashlight in hand.
- More Mike Lunsford Headlines
-
Raw: Trucker Bumps I-5 Bridge Before Collapse
Raw: Texas Deputy Shot by Colo. Suspect Honored
Suspect in Killing of Officer Found Dead in Cell
Major Detours Following Wash. Bridge Collapse
American Held in Grisly Czech Murders
Raw: Jersey Shore Reopens for Summer
Today in History May 25
Officials: Tsarnaev Friend Linked to Slaying
High Wire Spectacle Thrills Crowd in Austria
UK-bound Pakistan Plane Diverted, 2 Men Arrested
Bus Fire Kills 16 Children, Teacher in Pakistan
Raw Video: Washington State Bridge Collapse
Britain Braces for Possible Copycat Attacks
Obama:Sexual Assault Threatens Trust in Military
Raw: Memorial Day Flags Placed at Arlington
New Wheelchair Lift Promises More Access
Raw: Gay Rights Activists March in Ukraine
ShowBiz Minute: Shelton, King, Lopez
Today in History May 24
A Slice of Apple History Up for Grabs
Massive Flooding in San Antonio Area; Rescue Efforts Underway
Hope For The Boy Who Can't Smile
Raw: Apple 1 Computer Sells for More Than $650k
Young protestor goes viral on Youtube
Toronto Mayor says he's not a crack head
Maine island offers lighthouse getaway
Should We Prepare for Quakes?
Lynn Kindergarten Class Rescues Ducklings
Congressional gold medal awarded to civil rights heroes
Charles Ramsey visits Kentucky
Unique Display Greets Guests At Revel Casino
Cape Cod Train Service Worries Residents
BASE jumper rides snowmobile off cliff to honor dead friend
Bridge Collapse Survivor: 'Rough Day'
SHOCKING: School Guard Throws Girl Down Stairs
Star Wars X-Wing Star Fighter Made of Legos
Actress Amanda Bynes Arrested in New York
Singer Psy Has An Imposter
