So, Bulldog in Exile, and other members of my family, had to convince me that a trip to Indianapolis this weekend was not to be missed. Putting aside our plans to attend the Kentucky Derby, not undergrad style, our need for a babysitter, and my general inability to spend large sums of money unexpectedly, I never thought Butler would be in this position.
Butler is a place that I love and need only spend five minutes thinking about it to reignite my love for the people and the place. I still have three or four college professor's email addresses in my address book and include them on updates about my life and they probably actually read them. Butler teaches the ideas of Servant Leadership and encourages its students to think about being a good citizen. It is a community that once you are a member of, you will forever be a member, even if you only make it three semesters and head home.
I was an athlete at Butler and as such, Hinkle Fieldhouse was my second home. I spent more time there, and at the track and field facilities than anywhere else. We knew all the coaches for all the sports. (Most of the men's sports coaches wanted the girl's throwing team to work out while their teams were working out... mostly because we shamed the boys into working harder but some of them just wanted to sleep with us.) The training staff is top notch, the facility is old but full of history and wisdom, the community is as tight knit as you can get and supports its members like a family would.
In 2000, the Final Four was held in Indianapolis, and I was a senior at Butler. A teamate of mine and I went down town for the party but didn't pay much attention to the games. We ran around down town meeting people from out of town and asking them, who is your team? Most responded they were simply in town for the party. Thinking about it now, my 32 year old self wonders if these jokers found girls dumb enough to sleep with them. We were not those girls and when Officer Miller of the Indianapolis Police Department, formerly of the Butler Police Department, finished his shift, he took us back to campus. If I run into Officer Miller this weekend, I bet I don't need my badge to get out of trouble.
Since my passion for Georgia Football supplanted my love of college hoops... [let me be clear, the one UGA men's basketball game I attended was when I was 7 months pregnant and I spent most of it yelling at the post player who would get fed the ball and stand there like he'd never seen this big round leather thing before and immediately pass it back to the guards. Jimmy Crackcorndawg and the husband had to tie me down so that I wouldn't go to the locker room and yell during half time.] ... it has taken me a minute to get excited about going to the game. The sitter is lined up, the plan for tickets has been formulated, and like a good midwestern girl, I'm gonna wear jeans and my teams t-shirt, throw my hair in a ponytail and scream loud impolite profanity at the refs. Go BUTLER!
* Ms. Bulldog in Exile is the mother of my children, as such, please refrain from making comments about boys wanting to sleep with her when she was in college. She assures me she was as pure as the driven snow when we met.