Cut Down The Nets

Big time basketball is the excuse today, but it is not the trophy I am after in Chicago

Today I will do something elite. Or at least that is how the CBS and Turner television networks have branded it for 30 years. In the parlance of my youth, the event my teenage son and I will attend today is the NCAA Midwest Regional Final, but today they call it “the Elite Eight.” And because of the company I am keeping the event is elite, and I win no matter what the score is.

In a world of endorphin addiction passing for entertainment, filled with memes and 12 second video reels on social media, big time sports attended in person is one of the last truly authentic things we can do. The outcome is uncertain. The stakes are high. The tension can be felt by everyone in the building. The schedule is unforgiving. You stop everything and go now or you do not get the juice. It is worth the life disruption and the cost to show up.

If you have to sum up my life operational philosophy, showing up is as good a short hand as I have. I go to stuff. Funerals. Confirmations. First communions. Surgeries. Pitching debuts. Sometimes showing up just means breakfast. For my work as a political consultant, it means I show up on debate night, primary night, and election night even when we are certain to lose – especially when we are certain to lose. At home, I screw up plenty as a parent – and part of showing up for work means not being home on the ordinary nights, which is a screw-up sometimes – but missing the big moment is not in my failure portfolio.

When our beloved Tennessee Volunteers qualified for the regionals last Sunday, my teenage son and I began scrambling this weekend’s plans to get to Chicago. I scrubbed CNN appearances. He had to get excused from two optional winter workouts for his football team, and duck the last half hour of a Latin class – which crushed him, as you might imagine. We cashed in American Airlines miles and Bonvoy hotel points. We got to Chicago just in time to see Friday night’s games.