Wither the Christmas Classic
An Ode
As I type this, Hawaii and Nebraska are playing basketball on my television. It is 10:49 p.m. local time here in Tennessee, and there will be another game of the Diamond Head Classic on after this one, should I have the constitution to remain awake and the desire to waste that consciousness on Mu**ay State basketball1.
It is one last chance to view the body of a long-dying brand of basketball before its final departure: that of the Christmas-time college basketball tournament.
Feast Week is a beauty, a potpourri of the senses and a salve for the soul. For my money, it means as much for the growth of the game as March Madness; having so many marquee matchups stuffing a schedule at a time when people are actively both communing together and seeking some way, any way at all, to avoid speaking to one another, having basketball games to distract one another from one another is perfection.