Chapter 13: March Madness: Catch It!

I've wanted to write this one for a long time now. Of all the stories I have to tell, this combined "epic" really takes the cake. It's why for the duration of this "book", while it's been in electronic format, "The 2005 Company Basketball Tournament Champion" has been mentioned in the title.

You see, this story has a little bit of everything. Much like the tales of crazy softball hijinks, this also centers around sports.... a true underdog story about a man who gets picked last to play and somehow ends up driving the championship trophy around the city of Springfield, Massachusetts.

Here's how our story begins....

It was the time leading up to the NCAA College Basketball Tournament... the real one... the one where the players aren't huffing and puffing after running only 10 feet. The one where the atheletes are in much better shape and wear cool uniforms. The one where the players don't have a steady career in engineering to fall back on. Yes, spring was soon to be in the air, and with it, basketball.

Where I work, we've recently started to commemorate this event by staging our own March Madness Tournament.... in our old factory area. Years ago, detemining that we as sedentary creatures might require some excerise now and again, lest our muscles atrophy, the company decided to paint some "walking" track lines on our factory floor. To call it a "running" track would have been asking too much, as well as being too dangerous. You see, the floors were still filthy, and as a result, somewhat slippery. Time and again, maintenance has gone out there to attempt to clean it up a little bit, but let's face it, sometimes you just can't polish a turd.

But the key thing was that people were using it. Every day at lunch, there were people out there walking around the track with their headphones on, getting a little exercise.

Due to the success of the walking track, the company then opted to put in a basketball court. That's right, two hoops, and all of the requisite lines drawn on the cement floor. This was a very exciting development for those of us who were basketball aficianados, although it provided the same problems in that the track lacked proper ventilation and the floor was still dangerous. There was also the added bonus that handling a basketball in there made you look like you had been working in a coal mine all day long.

But soon, there were after-work pickup basketball games and the momentum kept growing and growing. Finally, some of the employees got together and organized a March Madness tournament complete with a handful of teams, a schedule, a timekeeper, referees, you name it. We were big time now... well, as much as we could be.

Fast Forward two years to last March's tournament, the third inaugural company basketball tournament. Two great novelties would be added to this particular tournament... the institution of a player draft, and the emergence of Spam Boy onto the scene.

To make the teams fair, all of the team captains were asked to show up in the conference room one afternoon, so that they could look at the list of available players and create their teams. People who were on the list of interested players could also show up and observe the proceedings. I, as many others, opted to stay at my desk and attempt to get some work done. Spam Boy decided to see which team would draft him and when. Of course, Spam Boy had no known basketball skills. Nobody had ever seen him play before. Everybody only remembered him as "that crazy guy that ran that softball team". So, the prospect of him getting picked at a high spot in the draft was terribly unlikely.

An hour later, an email comes out announcing the results of the draft. Immediately my friend Todd stopped by to revel in our new team's roster and to scrutinize the draft order. This was going to be fun! We were already getting excited about what looked like to be a very promising team. We worked our way down the list and then moved on to see who made the other teams. I kept scanning and scanning until I got to the very last name on the sheet.... Andy Wolan.

Soon after the email came out, my friend Jason came back from the meeting. I had to ask him how it all went down.

"So am I interpreting this correctly? Did Wolan get drafted last???", I asked.

"Yeah.... hahah.... he was THERE too!", said Jason.

"What? Why on earth did he go?"

"I have no idea. He just sat there and watched the whole thing."

"So he had to sit there and watch as everybody passed on him? Oh man!"

(much laughter)

"It's funny too...", Jason continued. "We got to a point in the draft where we had to make sure that every team drafted at least one female player."

"Really?", I said. "So not only was he drafted last, he got drafted only after all of the available remaining women in the draft were placed on teams?"

"Yeah. We actually all forgot he was there."

(uproarious laughter)

It was then that I did something I'm not terribly proud of. (Hey, sometimes shit happens.) Andy had left his work badge (complete with his first-day-of-work photo) in Jason's desk drawer before he had moved to a new location. At one point, while Jason wasn't around, I taped it up to his white board, drew a frame around it and wrote:

"Last player drafted, 2005 March Madness Basketball Tournament."

I knew when Jason had finally noticed it when I heard a cackle from next door.

"Oh man! That's terrific!", he said.

A day or two later, team captains were already trying to wheel-and-deal to pick up some of their friends, old teammates, etc before the tournament started. Jason was trying to pry his old teammate John from one of the other teams, and was willing to give up one of his own players to do so. So he writes Lenny, John's team captain, and proposes a deal.

Here's what Lenny wrote back:

"I was thinking about this deal... and I REALLY don't want to break John and Andy up. They're sorta like my Malone-Stockton combo. I really don't think I can give you one without giving you the other. Take it or leave it."

So Jason was faced with a tough decision. Was it worth picking up John and adding in the extra headache of managing Andy? He gritted his teeth and pulled the trigger on the deal, a two-for one-trade.

For days later, Jason kept trying to shop Andy around. He even started in on me, trying to get me to talk my team captain into picking him up. Here were his attempts:

1) "Come on, you know you want this guy."

-and-

2) "Think about the intensity he brings."

-and-

3) "He can be your secret weapon."

Still no takers. Jason had to resign himself to playing the tournament with Andy on his team.

So the Tournament started as scheduled with the teams finally locked in. Jason's team was the "Bronx Bombers", after his love of the New York Yankees. My team was called "Atrocious D", which was a play on Jack Black's band "Tenacious D", but since a good portion of the team was overweight, we figured that was the right way to go.

While I had to wait a few days before my team's first game, I figured I would go check out the season opener with Jason's team playing Lenny's team. The tournament really wasn't a tournmanent, but rather a "season' of six games where your team would play the other three teams twice, and the teams with the two best records would play for the championship at lunch time for everybody to see.

I arrived at the game late, but still in time to watch the amazing debut of Spam Boy. Halfway through the first half, SB subbed into the game and immediately made his presence felt. On his first attempt at defense, he ran after the guy dribbling the ball and locked him up in a big bear hug.

The whistle blows...

"Foul!", says the ref.

Lenny's team takes the ball out of bounds. Lenny has the ball in his hands for no more than a second or two when....

"Foul!", screams the ref again.

Andy had gone up and given HIM a bear hug too. Apparently, he had NEVER played organized basketball before... or watched it... or heard about it in passing.

"You do that one more time, and I'm throwing you out of the game!".

Acting quickly, Jason decides to bench Andy for the rest of the, um... game.

But the antics didn't stop there. Spam Boy, now noticing my friend Justin and I standing there watching the game, starts screaming out:

"Corbett Report! Corbett Report!"

I wave and immediately break eye contact. It doesn't stop there. After a few iterations of that, it turns into:

"Let's go Corbett! *clap*clap*clap*clap*clap* Let's go Corbett!"

Justin turns to me and says, "This guy is out of his fucking mind! Maybe we should leave."

"Yeah, I'm tempted to."

I probably should have. Long after Justin left, he was still at it. Paying very little attention to the game his team was embroiled in, Spam Boy just kept clapping his hands and chanting "Let's go Corbett!". At one point, getting mildly aggravated, I shout back, "You might want to actually pay attention to the game!".

I decided to stay all the way to the very end. Now I was DYING to see if Jason would put him in again. Sure enough, in the second half, he got another shot at it. On their first offensive trip down the floor, Andy somehow ends up with the ball in his hands. Not passing up an opportunity to see something absolutely special, all of us on the sideline simultaneously shout out:

"SHOOT IT!!!!"

Now granted, Spam Boy is about 30-35 feet away from the hoop at the time and well beyond the three-point arc. He shoots it anyways.

Airball.

Jason subs out for him again a minute or two later, at the next stoppage in play. That was the end of his basketball adventure for the day.

As the game ends, and the players are all congratulating one another on a fine effort, I finally decide to exit, stage left. As I'm walking out, I hear the chanting again....

"Let's go Corbett! *clap*clap*clap*clap*clap* Let's go Corbett!"

I turn around and say, "Dude, seriously, you've got issues."

A week later, it was our turn to play Jason's team. If Spam Boy was going to be that excited about me just showing up to watch a game, I couldn't imagine what it was going to be like to play in the same game. I would probably need some of my own mugging deterrent in order to keep him off of me, like mace, or a taser or something.

Sure enough Spam Boy showed up for the game, as excited as ever. Sure enough, when brought into the game, he opted to guard me. For the duration of his time in the game, every time I ran up and down the floor, either with the ball or without, there he would be, stalking me, chanting "Corbett Report" in my ear.

On one possession, I get passed the ball outside of the 3-point arc. Spam Boy, like a crazed animal comes running out at me. I simply dribble around him, and put up a shot off the backboard for 2 points.

"That was easy.", I thought to myself.

If he was going to play aggressively on me, I was going to use that to my advantage. A couple of possessions later, I decided to post up on him. With him completely mauling me, and probably enjoying it, I spun around and put up a shot. Swish.. and a foul. So that matchup ended up working out alright for me.

However, the game was a blowout.

With Jason's team in command, and the teams fully entrenched in "garbage time", Andy got more playing time. Collecting an offensive rebound, he was able to put it back up and in for 2 points... his first of the tournament. Out of the corner of my eye, I see him pump his fist in celebration so hard, that he spun around and fell to the ground. I laughed heartily as I ran down the floor.

When the game ended, we lined up to shake hands with the other team. I received my obligatory "Good game, Corbett Report!" as I reached Spam Boy in the line.

Terrific.

While the tournament did not amount to much for my team, Andy got to play in the championship game. And while he may not have gotten as much playing time as before due to the fact that there was much more at stake, his team still won it all. And not only does such a victory come with the bragging rights of winning it in front of a large chunk of your colleagues, but it also comes with a trophy. And if I remember correctly, and I don't because I've never won it, they engrave it with the name of the winning team. Also, as part of the tradition, they would let each member of the team get to keep the trophy for a little while, you know, just to keep it at their desk.

Andy took the celebrating a bit further.

Weeks after the tournament was over, he sent me an email with the subject "Trophy tour: Springfield Area". The Boston Red Sox had done this in 2004 after their World Series victory when they attempted to bring the championship trophy to every city and town in New England. I was curious to see what the email contained. Included was a message that stated the following:

"The team's championship trophy went for a tour in the greater Springfield area this past weekend. Attached are some photos of the trophy's adventures.

photo 1 - Trophy tour party in Chicopee
photo 2 - Watching a movie with the trophy.
photo 3 - Trophy in front of the b-ball hall of fame.

Photos of the rolling rally through Springfield and me singing karaoke with the trophy at a bar in Chicopee sadly were not taken."

Attached were three pictures, the first of which was a picture of the "party" that was held to commemorate the big victory, complete with his mother and sister in the background and a pizza, a bag of chips, some party cups, a tray of brownies, and of course, the trophy, in the foreground:


The second picture was of the trophy sitting alone on a 1970's era lime green couch. (Well, alone if you exclude the stuffed animals).


Lastly, the third picture was a picture of him posing the trophy outside of the Basketball Hall of Fame to make it look like the trophy was shooting the ball into the museum:



I immediately forwarded the message onto Jason.

"You'll never believe what one of your players is up to.", I said to him over the wall as I was sending him the message.

After perusing the message and the pictures, his immediate response was, "Is this guy for real?"

Yep, he's for real alright. A real 2005 Company Basketball Tournament Champion.