We met first in the Beacon, new employee orientation, in June of 1980 at the old Unionmutual.

 

I was an underwriter trainee, Steve an actuarial student. Actuaries tend to be similar to accountants  -- even more adept at math but with less vibrant personalities, (not that underwriters are rock stars). Steve is middleclass, mainstream, Midwest -- from Iowa. I’m from a run-of-the-mill dysfunctional background. 

 

We met again on the basketball court in Portland’s Deering Oaks Park where we played ball together for several years. In the mid-eighties we started to go to the opening round of the NCAA men’s basketball tournament.

 

We drove to: Syracuse (twice), Albany, Worcester, Providence (twice), Hartford (twice), Boston (twice). We had tickets to 6 games every year; in our free time we watched the other games on the TV.

 

We ate fast food and stayed in the Motel 6. We got older; our careers progressed and stagnated, we moved, Steve to Chicago, me to Tokyo. Yet somehow, the tradition continued -- we met in Chicago and San Diego and Tucson. Our kids grew up.

 

Steve lived life as if betting the chalk; I took long odds. The results were predictable. We watched basketball and tracked our pools. In Worcester I inadvertently led us into a biker bar and quickly ordered a beer. When Steve loudly and obliviously requested a wine cooler, I wanted to kill him before the clientele did us both in.

 

We started to diverge.

 

In San Diego, I wanted Mexican food and the beach. Steve wanted a TV and Excel spread sheets. In Tucson I drank margaritas; Steve, Diet Coke. In Chicago, I pined for Greek Town; Steve, for his laptop.

 

This year we went to DC. In our nation’s capital I sourced the brewpubs, Steve sourced hot chocolate. I went out into the night to find beer, Steve retreated to the room to play with the brackets. In the morning, I wanted a Bloody Mary; Steve, an Egg McMuffin. I was jonesing for Chinese food; Steve, shopping mall food. I wanted to flirt with the dark side, Steve wanted a high speed internet connection.

 

At the arena, our seats, as usual, were awful. Steve used his binoculars to study Belmont’s half court sets, I borrowed them to scope out the cheerleaders during the timeouts. On the off day, I wanted to drink sake’ under the early cherry blossoms, Steve wanted to memorize the late out-of-town box scores.

 

By the end of game five, I’d had enough. Let’s have dinner together, I said, and left the arena. I’d started on my Hunan Special when we connected by cell phone. Back in the room, he’d ordered from Pizza Hut. We talked.

 

It’s not you it’s me, I said. The game has changed, I said Too many time outs, too much stoppage of play. We’ve drifted apart, I said. He called today and asked about 2009 tickets, No, I chose, the game has passed me by.

 

Pete Lyons is a lapsed college basketball fan turned local beer aficionado.  He writes about beer and life at http://beerlocavore.blogspot.com/ and can be reached at peterklyons@yahoo.com.