When I think of hope I think of a bath-water warm November day down South where the burnt red trees of autumn overpower the Carolina blue sky and driving down 77 in Wednesday afternoon rush hour blasting a corny pop song about reaching out-touching me-touching you out the open windows and my jittery body squished between sweaty red-shirted friends who will always be family too many to a row above and below me surrounded by this redandblack joy loud and jumpy ready and waiting crammed into a cavernous arena that normally houses pro teams Grammy winners but tonight I see fourteen boys jog onto an NBA basketball court hear our voices roar and I become fused into one being with my peers who share this life with me chanting yelling clapping never stopping buoying our boys as they line the floor anticipating waiting just like us and I feel my grin ache happy and my eyes well up because I know that they come from us are part of us of this community just like me just like you just like we and now, please welcome the starters for your yes OUR Davidson Wildcats D-Block rocks and rolls humming energy people wave signs for ESPN my camera newspaper cameras television cameras flash feet bounce up and down to the bass pumping through speakers at guard a 6’3 sophomore from CHAR-lotte North Carolina arms waving here we go at guard a 6’6 junior from MONT-real Quebec my mouth is dry from shouts and the game hasn’t even started at forward a 6’8 senior from CIN-cinnati Ohio because who knows what could happen anything could happen really at forward a 6’8 senior from PAR-is France our proud yells lift up purpose lift up possibility we believe in and at guard a 6’2 senior from BARR-ington Illinois we wear the name we share the pounding heart on and off the court the Wildcats are coached in his nineteenth season by and I yell because I love it love Davidson and maybe tonight is the start of something of dreams emerging maybe soon we can show the world that as our boys raise their hands and we raise ours it’s not just about this game it’s about pumping our fists and chanting DAV ID SON at the top of our worn out lungs as we leave it’s about every day we spend together it’s about the compassion at the redbricked heart of this little school in this little town and so long before there are miraculous rebounds and magical three-pointers and interviews front page articles and spray-painted sheets hanging on porches there is hope and I am a part of it.
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