Home Team

I have never cheered for a team where I went to school. College, that
is. There wasn't a big competitive sports scene at the woman's college
where I spent the first part of my higher education, and the second
part - well - I was into my own scene, let's just say.

My family are die hard bleeding maroon Mississippi State fans, myself
included. Great greats and grands, my father, uncle, brother, everyone
- except moi - went up north to Starkpatch to get their higher
education. There is even a dorm which bares my maiden name.

Momma and Daddy always had season tickets to the basketball games, and
when my dad couldn't go, my mom would often give me the chance to ride
up with her and see the game. Or see who I could see, was usually my
agenda.

One trip up was a race against the clock to get me back in time for the
SubDeb Formal. I think I got home with about 15 minutes to get ready.
The pictures show it too. The Bulldogs were playing LSU, and my mom
said it was going to be worth the drive to see the game. Not because it
was going to be a good game, but because a little dude named Shaquille
O'Neal was playing for LSU. Momma said that we shouldn't miss seeing
him playing college ball. She was right.

Anyway, my NCAA bracket this year had my Bulldogs going up against the
Tarheels for the Championship game. I tend to make my bracket out by
who I like best. It usually doesn't go well, for I never ever advance
any team from Florida and I definitely never advance UCLA no matter how
good they are supposed to be.

Of course the Dawgs were knocked right out in the first round. We knew
they would be, but I had to root for them anyway. They were my home
team.

Were.

I sit here tonight, rooting for the Tarheels and feeling at home doing
so. It's not my alma mater. It's not Kevin's either, but they do ever
so graciously employ him. More and more Carolina blue has been making
its way into our home. A sweatshirt here, a t-shirt there. We are
becoming a Tarheel family through and through.

And it feels good. It feels good to be able to let go a little bit more
of the things that keep me from being completely rooted here in North
Carolina.

It feels good to be home.

Crossposted at Don't Take the Repeats, Marty's personal blog. If you want less words more often, follow Marty on Twitter. Come on now, it's fun.