Hope springs eternal

Exactly 365 days ago, I left William and Mary’s campus for spring break. I remember it was a beautiful, beautiful spring day – the type of day that made me fall in love with Williamsburg in the first place.

My last in-person classes were that day. I can’t remember which ones they were, only that I was antsy to finish up so I could head home. The men’s CAA Tournament, held in Washington, D.C., for the first time, was the upcoming weekend, and the Tribe was in the midst of its best season in possibly the entire history of the program. The world felt hopeful. Or – I should say – my world felt hopeful.

One of my best friends, Matthew Mason, is … well, a bit of a hypochondriac. He was the first person from whom I heard the word “coronavirus,” and he was the first person to tell me (and just about everybody he knew) that this novel coronavirus was going to be a big deal. The buzz subtly grew as the first month-and-a-half of my senior spring raced by. The start to that semester was one of the best times of my life – my best friends and I, in a place we loved, trying to get as much of the quote-unquote “college experience” before we were thrust out into the real world. We thought we’d have another couple of months after spring break; looking back at it, we probably should have known by the time March 6, 2020, rolled around that there was going to be some sort of disruption.

The afternoon of March 6, my best friend and I left Williamsburg. A bunch of friends (including John Kearns!) were going to stay at my house and go to the CAA Tournament in D.C. that weekend. I don’t remember having any wistful, sentimental thoughts. We didn’t know what was coming.

—

Saturday, March 7, 2020 – the first day of the tournament – my friends got to my place. The No. 2 seed Tribe had a bye into the quarterfinals, so we wandered around D.C. It was a chilly day, but I remember getting a margarita outside at the Wharf.

Sunday was full of nervous anticipation. I’m the type of person who likes to get to games incredibly early, and this game was no different. For a 6 p.m. game, I think we got to the Entertainment and Sports Arena in Southeast D.C. around 4:30. We didn’t get in until close to 5:15.

I remember getting the impression that William and Mary fans were the vast majority in the crowd. Students completely filled the section on the Tribe’s end of the court. There was a palpable energy. It just felt like this could be The Year for the Tribe. The magic was there. Nathan Knight was there. It was all coming together.

—

I’m not here to recap the loss other than to mention that it was one of the most agonizing basketball games I’ve seen. The entirety of the second half felt like the Tribe was one basket, one stop from taking control. The building was always one Andy Van Vliet three or one Tyler Hamilton steal away from exploding. And it just never came.

When I think back to it, I’m actually somewhat glad that the Tribe didn’t actually win the conference tournament last season. Well, maybe glad isn’t the right word. At the very least, it would have been the most William and Mary sports thing ever to make the NCAA Tournament and for it to be cancelled right away.

That night was one of the last normal nights with my friends. I think we were up until something like 2:30 a.m., just hanging out and reminiscing about our senior year. There was an interesting sense of finality.

—

Sunday, my friends left town after one last afternoon in the city. Monday, Pearl Jam canceled its tour, which was the first big sign that things were serious. Tuesday, Hofstra won the CAA Tournament. Wednesday, the College of William and Mary emailed us and let us know that spring break would be extended by a week, and classes would be online when we returned.

That night, my parents and I went out to dinner – kind of knowing that it was probably one of the last times we would do it for a while. We watched the bar television as the NBA suspended its season.

—

I haven’t been to a live sporting event since then. Hell, I haven’t seen most of the friends that came to my house since then. But a familiar feeling creeps in. It might be endemic to March, as the weather begins to warm. There’s also the hope that we may be getting closer to the end of the pandemic. Vaccines are as close to a miracle as science can produce, and COVID-19 cases are retreating.

As some people say at the beginning of baseball season, hope springs eternal. That’s how I’ve always felt about conference tournament season. Anything can happen.

Maybe this year will be like the 82 that came before it – an NCAA Tournament with the absence of William and Mary. In fact, it’s quite likely that will be the case. But hope continues to spring eternal each March for the Tribe. And I feel it as strong as I have since exactly one year ago.