A Dawg Gone Great Story

As you’re checking this out on what I hope is a pleasant Monday in Indiana and beyond, isn’t it a great day to be a Bulldog? I’m writing this on Friday before departing for Houston, truly anticipating that the Butler basketball team will be competing in the national championship game for the second consecutive year.

If somehow the Bulldogs became the latest victim Saturday in a magical run by VCU, the Butler tale remains a great one. One college basketball analyst called it simply the best story in the history of college basketball.

Wait, some who know me are saying, "You’re not a Bulldog, but a Cardinal" (as in Ball State graduate). And while I’ll remain a BSU supporter, it has been 21 years since a Sweet 16 run that saw the Cards give eventual champion UNLV its biggest tourney threat. But being a sports junkie, living in Indiana most of my life and in Indianapolis the last 13 years, how can you not support the Dawgs and, most importantly, the way they go about their business.

Historic Hinkle Fieldhouse, the Butler Way, players that are as focused on the classroom as the court — these are just a few of the reasons Hoosiers and others throughout the country are in for a long stay on the Butler bandwagon.

No matter the outcome, the Dawgs are winners. And I think they might just bring home the trophy that goes with being out front on the scoreboard too.

Finally, you ask: What does this have to do with business? Not a whole lot other than Butler is a longstanding Indiana Chamber member, a success story in many ways and something for all to rally around. Go Dawgs!

Go Butler!

Here’s a little poem I penned a couple of years ago. Pardon my indulgence, but I thought it was apropos for the moment. Though the city and most of the state claim other alma maters, this weekend we’re all for Butler (at least in my family, considering my dad was Brad Stevens’ eighth grade coach). Go Dogs!!!

A Night at Hinkle

The ball is tipped into the air;
Hot dogs, popcorn, standard fare.
Tho not so standard are the seats;
The years, the tears, and few defeats.

Bulldogs running stride for stride;
King Bulldog barking from the side.
Yet even he must leave behind
The pensive thoughts that grace his mind
Of so much history in one place –
The challengers, the goods, the greats.
One feels so pleasured by the presence
Of ghosts who haunt these hardwood heavens.

All these years since Mr. Hoover,
In our hearts, we’ll never lose her.
Plump’s last shot a great surprise;
College kids and college tries.

Unprivileged are those who must
Play their games in fancy-fussed
Arenas, gyms that feel so plastic;
Too much shine seems so bombastic.

I’ll take this place any day –
This sculpture almost made of clay,
So perfect every last detail,
In black & white, her walls regale.

For one thousand stars that twinkle,
I wouldn’t trade one night at Hinkle.