Wayne Watson's blog

A friend invited me to join him and another at the Big 12 Basketball tournament this past weekend. At first, I thought, “Nah” but then reconsidered. I haven’t been out of town since the day in January when all the fun started at the hospital so I guess I was a little apprehensive about traveling. Close to home has been comfortable and familiar and safe.

It was a short flight to Oklahoma City on Thursday and I took a cab to the Ford Center where the men’s games were being played. Honestly, I’m not much of a March Madness kind of guy. Don’t get me wrong, I really appreciate the level of passion in the fans of college basketball, and I guess if the round ballers from Louisiana Tech University were in the hunt for a berth at the NCAA Tournament, I might be a little more interested. But hey, it was a guys getaway weekend.

There was a game in progress when I arrived and we watched two more after that. I had asked Jim, before deciding to go, what it would be like. “Overeating” he replied. Not food – over indulging on college basketball.

I have to say I loved it. Out of all the games we watched, there was only one blowout and all the rest were really close. The most intense was between Oklahoma University and Oklahoma State. Of course, the place was packed with fans from both places and to say they were loud would be an understatement. It came down to the wire with the underdog OSU Cowboys going on to the next round.

The only personal tie I had to any school represented was to Baylor University. My youngest son Adam is an alum as is my wife. So the Bears were the pick. Again, I’ve not followed Baylor basketball at all, but in this setting, it was a lot of fun. By the way, Baylor won their way through the brackets to be in the finals only to be beaten by Missouri. No one, from what I hear, expected them to go that far. Baylor had to be on a real high after beating the mighty Texas Longhorns. I think everybody in the room, except for Longhorn fans, wanted Baylor to win. David and Goliath kind of thing, you know.

The one thing that makes college basketball so electric and draws so much interest from so many has to be the passion all around it. These young men play like they’re dying - like there’s no tomorrow. As much as I appreciate the skill it takes to play in the pro ranks of any sport, I’ve grown a little weary of the going-through-the-paces-now-pay-me attitude of many professional athletes. For a lot of these college players – most of whom won’t go on to play pro – these will be some of their finest moments. Few of them will work or play in venues where eighteen thousand people cheer their every move.

Another thing I couldn’t help but notice was that the fans were, for the most part, very civil toward one another. Alcohol sales were suspended during the entire event so maybe that helped everyone keep their heads. Mostly, there was good natured ribbing and posturing for school pride. Sitting beside me at one game was a husband and wife – one a grad from OU and the other a OSU alum. When OSU beat the favored OU team, the husband asked his wife how she was gonna get home. Hee Hee.



Every school had it’s pep band there to make a little noise and inspire their team with music. I know you can’t see it in this picture, but in the bottom corner of the band stand, there are three girls playing piccolo. In a room of thousands of cheering fans, a section of trumpets, trombones, a few tubas, and a drum set, these three played their piccolos as if they were center stage. Says something about teamwork to me. No, the contribution you make might not seem to make much of a difference. No, you might not even be able to hear it but take enough elements out of the whole that you can’t audibly distinguish and something is just missing. Everybody has a part to play.

And now let’s take the offering.

On Friday, Roy and I went to the Cowboy Museum and Hall of Fame. Roy’s dad was a real, working cowboy as were some other members of his family. He really wanted to see the museum so I went along. Like the tournament, I didn’t know how much I’d be interested in a cowboy museum.

Fascinating.

I think most of us blow things off that we’re not “into” and miss a lot as a result. Being too cool for school make you feel hip and edgy? We’re all real impressed.
Get over yourself. I’m talking to you!

OK I’m talking to me, too.

Here are some pics from the museum. What’s Honest Abe doing here? Fact is, he opened the door for the development of the Western United States with some of his presidential power.

The statue, “The End of the Trail” is the original that has been reproduced so many times in much smaller scale. It stands in the entrance of the museum.


The Duke. Enough said.

There were displays of all kinds that made me feel like (and almost wish I were) a kid again. You know, when someone would ask you, “Son, what do you want to be when you grow up?” Back in the day when the first answer that popped into your head was cowboy or fireman or astronaut.

Some of the sweetest memories I have of my father were of Sunday nights at home after church. My mom and brother stayed and had choir practice before I was old enough to join, so Dad and I went home and made BBQ beef sandwiches from the lunch leftovers. Dad had a homemade sauce recipe that just killed. Makes my mouth water just thinking about it. Once, he and I talked about bottling it. Taking into account the ingredients, we figured it would cost about $9 a bottle – and this was in 1963!

Anyway, we’d make up a batch of chopped BBQ and sit down to watch Bonanza on TV – just me and Dad. Still a great memory of a day when I dreamed, even if for a short time, of being a cowboy. They made it look so cool. I’m sure it had it’s down side and probably wasn’t as neat and tidy as the Ponderosa looked to be. Dreams of being a cowboy quickly faded into dreams of baseball stardom then on to something else.

When do dreams stop? Is there a predetermined age when you’re not allowed to dream anymore? Of course not. Dream on. Time’s flying.

Wayne