Spirit of March
Why didn’t we stop at the casino on the way out to Tulsa? Several to choose from makes it hard to pass up. Naw, we passed it too late. Not too late! Next one is right before the city.
We’ll take in just a little, make big plays, and tip the Friday afternoon dealers more than fairly. This will bring us better luck, and we can get out with some big winnings; then eat a glorious victory meal downtown after the basketball game.
Nervous about the games I guess, shit we don’t have time. We had to get to the bar in time for the important one, before we entered the big silver arena across the street. Stainless steel and glass made for a blinding walk into the bar as the peaking early spring afternoon sun threw the first punch. I needed to get inside, find the Razorback game, get a beer or something stronger perhaps; being it is St. Patrick’s Day.
Goose Island IPA sounded thirst quenching from the draft, an English Style IPA with Idaho hops. My partners in crime for the day ordered stronger drinks, a margarita and a long island iced tea. Maybe they were the nervous ones.
The game started and as with all college basketball games the 1st half was all fun and games. We were able to get our drinks refilled and enjoy the blaring classic rock from the overhead speakers. Nice touch.
Looking behind us, Jayhawk fans started to roll in from the prairies, looking to revel in a meal of domestic pilsners before their contest with 16 seed UC Davis. Could I be attending the first 16 seed over 1 ever?
How was my bracket doing? Ouch. Better than Trump’s I reckon. Oh, he didn’t have the time to fill one out? What’s it take like one, two minutes tops? Overthinking does no good anyway.
I think a touch of the common man would be much needed, in such a time with his approval rating slipping fast. But of course he doesn’t approve of basketball because it is a sport even the poor and unprivileged can play at a public park with just a basketball. A sport that you will find a mix of all races and backgrounds playing together without a discussion of who has the bigger portfolio and what private school their kids are currently attending, slapping each other on the back as one acknowledges the other of the gem of a move they made to the ol’ peach basket.
Alas, I guess, these beers make me shed a happy tear this time of year for this beautiful jazzed up sport. My game turned out to be a splendid down to the wire winner as our table yelled to our cardinal red brethren across the restaurant, something I’m sure the staff loved! What should they care?
The sun was out, it was happy hour, and we were buying the beers and cocktails with higher profit margins. The rumor from across the street was that this NCAA event did not allow the normally boozed up arena to sell liquor to the fans pouring in for their sessions. Before I found them to be right I ordered another drink and let the spirit of March take me away.
TD