This year the Final Four is in Indianapolis.
Oh, and Butler is playing.
That's a huge deal around here. Butler's never been to the Final Four, they're smallish and scrappy and they play great defense. They're the kind of team basketball people in Indiana think about, at night, in the dark, alone.
I've been to the Final Four, final game. Went the last time it was in Indy. It was dead. No atmosphere. No excitement, aside from the small student sections.
I can tell you that of the 70,000 fans that will pack Lucas Oil Stadium, damn few will care who wins. The place will be packed with people who are there to be seen, to text/Facebook/Twitter "I'm at the Final Four! LOL!!", to buy a T-shirt.
The big suck is that there are a lot of Butler students who can't go to the game. There are only so many student tickets.
That's a shame.
"Things that'll never happen in a million years even though they are great ideas for $1000, Alex."
Here's how I'd do it.
Go ahead and fill Lucas Oil Stadium with the hoity and the toity. Put the game on the big screens. Sell lots of beer and T-shirts. Many of those folks won't know the difference.
Give the game back to the students.
Move the actual final game, in which Butler will surely be playing, to Hinkle Fieldhouse, one of the greatest basketball venues on the planet. Let in students from the two schools, players, cheerleaders, parents of players, coaches wives, TV folks, print reporters (both of them), John Wooden, and that's it.
I guarantee the fieldhouse would be insane. The players would feed off of the fans. The fans would feed off of the players. It would be incredible.
Never happen. Instead, you'll have sales guys who expensed 2 tickets for a couple grand each, buying beers for their latest or next big customer, showing up just before tip-off, checking their Blackberries throughout the game, and leaving early to beat the traffic.
Huh? Right, running blog...
The tide has turned in the Squirrel War. Apparently they sent a scout to look for "Scratchy".
Now he's with his buddy in the woods. Of course, they out number me now. Didn't think of that.
Numbers: 2.1 miles on soggy grass. Beautiful day to be nursing a tender achilles.