So I was lucky. Sure there were other schools, other teams, other weekend visits to campuses, boy oh boy, were there other weekend visits. But I never wanted to go anywhere else. I never wanted to go to fun-in-the-sun in California or Florida. I don’t need the sun for fun. I can have fun in the snow, or in the mud. Or indoors. I didn’t want to go to some ivy- choked four-hundred-year-old snot factory, either, even if they’d have me, which they pretty damn well certainly wouldn’t. All I ever wanted was to wind up at a place about three hours and one state line from home, not closer, not farther away. A place with a reasonable sports budget, a place where a guy could have some laughs, play some ball, meet some people, and get himself educated and experienced without an excess of fuss or, especially, muss. “You big baby,” my sister Fran said, laughing when I finally told her, over the phone, of my decision to follow her and my sister Mary to Norfolk U. “Cut it out, Fran, it had nothing to do with you guys.”
