Victory

I was a college basketball player. I was a guard, and I was quick. My claim to fame was a play in which I stole the ball from an opposing guard, tore down the court, and missed the lay-up. This happened at least half a dozen times each season.

In my first year of college, the women's varsity basketball team held our practices at 7 o'clock each morning. We were over at the gym before the sun came up during the winter months. Our use of the gym ranked in priority just below men's one-on-one basketball intramurals and intramural ping pong.

By my senior year we were alternating prime-time use of the gym with the men's varsity team. We shared the weight room and the athletic trainer (who cared for me through three seasons of shin splints) and ate steaks just like the men--well, not just like the men--before important games. We won third place in the Maine state basketball tournament that year. It had been a long struggle to effect the changes that made our victory possible; but it was a matter of justice.

I've always enjoyed playing basketball more than watching it. For years a Sojourners ritual passed me by--the annual NCAA basketball pool. All it requires is a dollar and some knowledge of the top-ranked college basketball teams. I had a dollar.

Ed Richardson had typed up elaborate forms for this year's pool, which listed in brackets all the match-ups and even included team records. All one had to do was predict and fill in the winning teams for each round. It seemed like the right time to break the male stranglehold on the competition; it was a matter of justice.

This year's contest included the added feature of a pool for the women's championship. Ed explained, "It costs a dollar to enter the pool for the men's championship, but you can enter the women's for 59 cents." As always (sigh), the big money was on the men. Twenty people joined the men's tournament pool, and six joined the women's. I decided to join both (but was out of the running early in the women's competition). It was a matter of justice.

Having decided to take the risk, I recognized my need for some guidance. The completed forms were due on Thursday, March 21, opening day of the final rounds of the tournament. That day began with my weekly three-mile walk to work with Joe Lynch. I explained that I had decided to dive into the basketball pool.

"I have a sister and brother-in-law, who's a high school basketball coach, two incredibly wonderful nephews, and an equally wonderful niece who live in Louisville," I explained. "I think I'm going to go with Louisville."

"That's a good choice," Joe said. I tried to trust him, knowing that the competition is cutthroat and that Joe had already joined the fray.

"Who else is good?"

"Well, I think Duke is a good bet." We spent the hour's walk talking basketball.

When I got to work the pressure was on. I had to get my choices in and still read through the entire May issue of Sojourners before sending it off to the printer that day. Ed Spivey stopped by mid-morning and asked, "What's your prediction?"

"I don't know. I'm still torn between Louisville and Duke," I explained.

"No, I mean on the contra aid vote." Not only was it a critical day in the NCAA tournament and deadline day at the magazine, it was also the day of the House of Representatives vote on contra aid. I decided to go with Louisville.

Joe had given excellent advice. And it sure was hard to watch the team he had picked to win the tournament go down in the first round. Especially since I had picked six out of the first eight games correctly.

Well, what can I say? I had also guessed right on three out of the "final four" and went into the final game knowing that, based on my previous record of correct picks, if Louisville beat Duke, I would win the pool.

This was a bit unsettling to some of the others. Peace Ministry Director Jim Rice, who had also picked Louisville to beat Duke in the final game but had done poorly in his earlier choices (I mean, who really thought that Cleveland State had a chance against Navy?), called me one night to vent his exasperation.

But I also noticed that some of the others suddenly became very friendly and helpful and began dropping hints about movies they would enjoy being taken to and restaurants they would like to try out. Their efforts were in vain. I had already made a deal with the editor, who had picked Duke, that whichever of us won--if either of us did--would take the other out for dinner at the new seafood restaurant in town.

THE BIG NIGHT finally came. We packed into the Tamialis family's living room and gathered around their television, devouring several rounds of Popcorn Parmesan. Duke dominated the play. I lowered my hopes.

Then, in the last minutes of play, it all turned around. Victory tasted sweet--like Maine lobster in butter sauce.

I felt compelled to call my brother-in-law to congratulate him. Phone circuits to Louisville were jammed, as if it were Mothers' Day or there had been a natural disaster. When I finally got through to John about midnight, I congratulated him and then said, "Now you can congratulate me. I just won $20!" I told him the whole story.

After I finished, there was a long silence. Then he said, "Oh. Well, I was rooting for Duke." It seems there is an intense rivalry between the University of Kentucky and Louisville, and John is a Kentucky fan. I was grateful I hadn't asked for his advice on my picks.

Well, now it's all over, except to enjoy a lobster dinner some evening soon. I'm not sure what it all means. But somehow, I don't know, it seems like a matter of justice.

Joyce Hollyday was associate editor of Sojourners when this article appeared.