This is my favorite time of year. Everywhere stuff is bursting. Buds, hormones, bubbles, pimples. You get the picture. March Madness is a real thing. No one is immune from it. And it doesn’t even matter if your school is hybridally remote with in-person whatever. You just have to love March. I also love college basketball, and the Syracuse Orange in particular. But, just as the leader of this fine Donadoni Academy was running gym class in the driveway playing basketball with a budding girly dervish of energy and blonde hair dribbling her 10 year old brains out, I also realized that this is the most physically agonizing time of year. None of the many orthopedists that have seen me would ever recommend the spring training rites of pain I enjoy with my kids every March. From wiffleball to basketball to just a game of catch- the old man ends the day with ice packs. And looks forward to the next day. But back to my reason for writing…

As I did my best to not trip and fall in the driveway, and as I squinted into the bright sun blinding what was left of my vision…I had an incredibly nostalgic wave wash over me. I think, because the academy has been running so smoothly I had an opportunity to go back in time. Back to 1989 when I was actually physically able to dribble, drive and dish…

Well, I can’t go back to those days…but I knew who to call to catch up on those legends of Bishop Grimes. I needed to make sure that I got the guy who not only knew what my childhood chums were up to, but who was also likely to remember details (ya know…names and dates and places and other trivia my wife wants to know and I can never recall) and most importantly, would have more stories and talk longer than my AirPods could hold their charge. For the record…I was right, Chas still has the gift. But things got even better. I made another call to my oldest bestie who- by the way would shoot baskets with me for hours and hours. Even in 3rd grade we would be ballin’ out on the frozen tundra of a driveway in the heart of central New York. So I realized how important it is to maintain those positive connections. They are what hold us together. They give us the energy and laughs and in the old days, huge phone bills.

Connections are good. And we need faith in one another. Faith, like when riding in the car with a student driver. Although, I found it ironic that after my student driver flawlessly drove us to the gym the other morning I (as in me- the licensed driver) proceeded to drive right up over the curb on my way out of the parking lot. So I guess I should keep my eye on the road and have faith that my student driver will deliver me safely from evil tire ruining curbs. But I digress, the point is that it’s March.

So as we march on to the rebirth of spring, I am grateful for the connections with those that have filled me with orange blood, clanked me with chain link basketball nets with double rims, and a banana boat. Stuff that makes you real and less virtual. If they had YouTube in 1989 I am pretty sure the fabled Match at the Patch would’ve broken the internet. But that is another story for another day…

Thanks for Coming!