I just returned from an annual trip to St. Louis, where I attended the 2013 Missouri Valley Conference Men's Basketball Tournament.
My brother, Mark, has access to a suite at the stadium where the tournament is conducted, and he has hosted friends and family in the suite for more than 20 years. I have attended the MVC tournament since 1996, missing only a tournament or two along the way.
Many things have changed in our MVC weekends over the years. During the first 10 years, the weekends were one long party that continued for two, sometimes three days. They consisted of over indulgence in food and alcohol, and included hangovers strong enough to last three days.
The attendees in those days included some regulars — two more of my brothers, a brother in-law, and friends of Mark, our host. Participants also included an assortment of one-time guests — the rowdy, the tame, and the pleasant but forgettable. The rowdies are the ones I remember, the personalties so odd and outrageous that they live on in my memories even though I met them only once.
The tournament weekends are different for us today. We don’t drink as much as we once did. We’re not as loud and crude as we once were, and many of the rowdies have drifted away. During recent years, most of nights have ended early enough for us to be home and asleep by 11 p.m. Some of this tame behavior can be attributed to the natural slowing that accompanies age and the passing of time, but I know there is more involved more than this.
The 2008 tournament marks the demarcation point when our trips to St. Louis evolved from journeys through Arch Madness to pilgrimages heavy with memories that are both happy and sad.
At about 3 p.m. on March 10, 2008, my brother, Patrick, died unexpectedly at the age of 44, struck down by a massive heart attack, one day after returning from the MVC tournament, which he had attended with me, Mark and Mike, another brother. Patrick's death was a devastating shock to my family and his many friends and associates. His death also had a lasting impact on our MVC tournament weekends
Mark scaled back the number of participants beginning with the 2009 tournament, inviting only those who attended the full slate of games in 2008 — Mike, me and three of Mark’s friends. The tight guest list continues today, but a few others, including my wife, have made guest appearances.
This year's tournament ended on March 10, the fifth anniversary of Patrick's death. Mike, Mark and I spent nearly three days together during the weekend, but there was no mention of the anniversary and little mention of Patrick at all. I was aware of this, and I am sure my brothers were, too. I think Patrick’s death remains too painful for us to discuss.
I also became aware of something else during a post-dinner conversation Saturday night, following completion of the semifinal round of games. Mike, Mark and I were in a pub, sharing stories from previous tournament weekends. It occurred to me that all the stories we were sharing involved experiences from tournaments before 2008. We shared no wild stories from the weekends of the last five years, because there were none to offer. It was as though we had subconsciously laid to rest that quality of our MVC weekends after we lost Patrick.
The tone is more subdued today and the nights out are shorter, but I still enjoy the annual pilgrimage of the MVC tournament weekends. I enjoy watching the games with the crew that continues to attend, and I cherish the time spent with Mike and Mark.
I have good memories from each of the last five MVC weekends. They reflect a new chapter in my life, a chapter that is different from the preceding ones. I think that’s the way life is when we grow and move forward with it.
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