Final Four

In beating Wheaton last weekend, the Hope Men's Basketball team made it to the Final Four in Salem, Virginia. Since we don't get to see them play much being in Pennsylvania, we broke plans with our couch and television watching first and second round games of the Division I NCAA tourney to follow the orange and blue.

We set out south through the beautiful mountains of central Pennsylvania, counting our blessings as we passed scenic towns like Tyrone, Altoona, and Breezewood on into the Maryland panhandle for a few miles. I-70 doesn't connect to I-81 on our route and so Mapquest sent us on a quick jog through the northeast corner of West Virginia - what a memorable jog it was!

We crossed the border into the mining state and immediately noticed the small "welcome to our state" sign as compared to the cheesy can't-miss signs in entering other states (probably a cost-cutting measure). Neither of us had ever been to West Virginia, but had a good first impression from the modesty and fiscal efficiency of their diminutive "Welcome" sign (from our own frugality, we easily recognize and appreciate that in others).
Our second impression, however, overshadowed the first. After losing the smooth Maryland pavement under our tires and our second lane of traffic, we proceeded into the city limits of Berkeley Springs. As we approached the first stop sign in this quaint mountain village, we came upon a pregnant woman smoking a cigarette as she crossed the street towards the elementary school. Kathi commented on how sad that was while Chad thought to himself, "it's probably a non-filtered cig - some people are so lazy."

We got closer to the intersection and realized, to our relief, that the woman was not actually pregnant. And as we passed her, noticed that it wasn't even a woman (unless it was the bearded lady we always heard about from the circus). Welcome to West Virginia.

Berkeley Springs, despite being on its state's border, gave us a glimpse of all the West Virginia stereotypes. We thought that, because it is a border city far from the center of the state, it would not have all the characteristics that so negatively influence public opinion. However, all the mountains, mulletts, and muffin-tops (synonymous with love-handles) spoke otherwise. We were in the (blackened from nicotene) heart of West Virginia.

The rest of our 15-mile jaunt through Nascar's most densely populated fan base made us realize a few things about the economy of "mountain people." 1) Very few dentists are needed. And those who are needed must make a lot of money because check-ups cannot last very long. 2) Hair stylists and barbers don't care if "the front matches the back." 3) Cut-off t-shirt salesmen and scrap metal dealers (that have a "we'll come and pick up the rusted cars, school buses, refridgerators, and boats, yes boats, strewn across your front yards" service) could make a fortune if they became Mountaineers.

The Game

We made it through West Virginia (sorry to anyone who has connections there, not because of what we've written, but because you have connections there) to southwest Virginia where we arrived in Salem just in time to see the Washington University of St. Louis (Hope's opponent in the national semifinal) student fan buses arrive at the Salem Civic Center.

Since Chad's brother, Jeff, hadn't arrived yet with our tickets, we waited outside the main entrance with a stadium employee on her smoke break (she was actually originally from West Virginia). The Wash U. student section (which had a surprisingly large number - more than Hope's Dew Crew) proceeded by in their red and green (who chooses Christmas colors for their school?) and costumes indicative of rabid fans.

Usually having a hundred students (at varying levels of sobriety) from a rival school walk by us would be rather intimidating considering the facts that neither of us are large individuals (nuts, we should've picked up the bearded lady in Berkeley Springs), both of us were sober, and we were associating ourselves with the former-Mountaineer stadium employee. However, both of us braved the University of Michigan's Fraternity Row on a football game day this fall while wearing Penn State clothes (and it was only weeks after the Wolverines had depressingly lost to Appalachian State), so we thought we could handle a few Wash U. Bears without any difficulty.

Many of the fans that noticed our bright orange Hope t-shirts took advantage of their strength in numbers to say things like "There's no Hope", "Go Home Hope," and "Drown the Dutchmen." It is often humorous to watch people who say these things because of how creative and witty they think they are (its about as original as Michigan fans saying things like "JoePa is old"). Nevertheless, the Wash U-ers made these comments with unsolicited levels of hostility that warranted responses.
Kathi's initial thought was, "I really like the camouflage cargo shorts you ladies have on - they really go well with the paint on your faces. But I don't like your attitudes. So we'll pray for you" (she gets that from her mother). Chad's initial thought was, "C'mon guys, as the commercial says, 'Virginia is for Lovers.' It sounds like you left your love in Missouri." It's probably better off that neither of us voiced our thoughts and instead just thanked our new friends for their willingness to initiate conversation.

Those same students got a chance to voice all of their creative, never-heard-before chants during the game as well, as WashU (the eventual national champions) beat Hope by playing an outstanding second half. Even though we hadn't seen many games in the past two years, emotions ran high during the game and we felt horrible for the Hope players and coaches after the loss. Some things remain close to your heart no matter how far away they are geographically. We realized, through our volatile mood swings during the game, that Hope basketball is one of those things for us. We will always bleed blue and orange.

The Ride Home

After spending the night at a Knight's Inn ($52 a night - take that, timeshare-company-from-previous-post) in which we saw more cops on the premises than hotel guests, we headed back north the next day. Our reminiscing about how nice it was to see so many Hope people at the game ended just before the West Virginia stint of our return ride. The "Welcome" sign on the south border of the state did have a slogan, unlike that of the north. This one said, "Open for Business." We thought a more apt state slogan for them would be, "Hopin' for Business," and our response would be that you aren't going to get it unless you mandate that shirts cover the undercling of people's bellies at all times.
We christened our second "safari" through the mining state with a burping contest (appropriate for the culture). Usually Kathi wins these competitions in a landslide, but Chad overcame his genetically constricted esophagus and won with a 5-second belch. Gloating in his victory, Chad focused on the natural beauty this time through the state while Kathi slept. We think we can understand why John Beilein and Rich Rodriguez wanted to leave - even if it was a move to Ann Arbor.