The unspooling of days

 I hate posts like this.

I hate being That Guy, the one who dodders anciently and shouts at clouds about the demise of Betamax and the 8-track. Who pulls a thick curtain of amnesia around himself and mourns for a Day that wasn't nearly as Back In as we seem to see through the curtain's folds.

Who wonders why we can't have single-class basketball anymore in Indiana, forgetting that it went away because it was increasingly becoming a 92-30, Mega-Central-Over-Hooterville theater of the absurd. And who refuses to recognize that everything that made high school basketball in Indiana such a cultural touchstone is still there if you know where to look for it.

I hate That Guy. I especially hate him because I'm really not him, even though Medicare and Social Security are on my front step, leaning on the doorbell and demanding that my almost-65-year-old self let them the hell in.

On the other hand, I hate That Guy because sometimes I am him. And because he sneaks up on me at the damnedest times.

This week it happened because I was checking out some high school basketball scores, on account of next week is sectional week and, even though I've been away from the sportswriting gig for almost six years, my pulse heats up a little this time of year. So I was scrolling through some scores, and, because I spent ten years of my professional life in Basketball Mecca (aka, Anderson, Indiana), I decided to see how the Indians were doing this year.

Imagine my shock when I saw they were 2-21.

Imagine my further shock when I saw they hadn't had a winning season in seven years, and that in those seven years they had gone 3-20 and 4-20 and 6-19, and that Anderson -- which used to host the most Hoosier Hysteria-est sectional in the state each year -- doesn't even have a sectional anymore.

No, sir. The Indians go to (ugh) fierce rival Muncie Central now for sectional play. And what a bitter pill that must be.

And, yes, I know, the days and weeks and months and years unspool without cease, and they rarely pack anything for the trip. And so Basketball Mecca is not Basketball Mecca anymore. The Wigwam, that cavernous old palace that was once one of the grandest high school venues in the nation, sits empty now. Madison Heights and Highland, two-thirds of one of the fiercest intercity rivalries ever, are both gone. And Anderson is 2-21 and goes out of town to play in the sectional now.

Once upon a time, long, long ago, 8,000-plus howling maniacs used to pack the Wigwam for the sectional, and immortals like Ray Tolbert and Troy Lewis and Shawn Teague and Winston Morgan and Stew Robinson used to play in it. And one year, the Anderson sectional featured the state's No. 1 team (Highland), its No. 8 team (Anderson) and its No. 9 team (Madison Heights.)

Now there is no sectional. And the Pirates (Heights) and Scots (Highland) are no more. And the town itself is a shell of its former self, hollowed out by the early-'80s recession and the betrayal of the American worker that began in the '80s and continues in various ways to this day.

But enough of that. Sectional week is coming, and five days from now Anderson goes to Muncie Central to play Mt. Vernon in the sectional. Its season will likely end some 90 minutes later.

Once upon a time, long, long ago, the Indians season went on and on, not ending until the state championship game four times in a seven-year span between 1979 and 1986.

I was there. I saw it.

It's all on Betamax if you want to see it.