30 years of LIT is something to savour
Please allow me to modestly wish myself a heartfelt happy 30th anniversary.
In February of 1988, I attended the Luther Invitational Tournament for the first time.
Back then, I knew that LIT was a major event on the Regina sporting calendar, but I did not comprehend everything that made the tournament special.
Then I walked into the gymnasium. Everything changed.
Within a matter of minutes, I realized that LIT wasn’t simply another high school basketball tournament. There was a certain vibe that, to this day, is easier to experience than it is to describe.
Instantly, you feel like you are among friends — many of whom you have never met.
You appreciate a standard of fair play, and an emphasis on sportsmanship, that is not always evident at sporting events.
And there’s pizza.
Not to mention wine gums.
Garth Ruecker always brings me wine gums. (Hint, hint.)
It is one of the many traditions of LIT. Some are well-known and others are personal.
Well-known: (1) Everyone must be quiet during free-throw attempts; (2) No booing, even when I walk into Luther College High School’s Semple Gymnasium; (3) The music seldom changes; (4) Pizza; (5) Luther College High School students dancing to “Time Warp”; (6) Students’ art work that adorns the walls of the gym; (7) The dog show during halftime of the championship game; (8) The posttournament video.
Personal: (1) Visiting the old gym, known as the Merlis Belsher Heritage Centre, and marvelling at all the history; (2) Hoovering an entire pizza with my godson, Eric Anderson; (3) The wine gums, of course; (4) Taking a few moments early in the first game to sit back, savour everything around me, and wish that time could be freeze-framed; (5) Watching the post-tournament video, sentimentally, and wondering how Thursday turned into Saturday so quickly.
I will attend bigger events over the course of the year, but nothing else will resonate with me quite like LIT.
It is the closest you will get to the purity of sport.
No agents. No contract disputes. No berating of the officials. No attitudes. No restrictions on media access. No price-gouging at the concession (crucial).
Each year, I refer to coverage of LIT as my three-day paid vacation.
Thirty years after my first freebie “vacation,” I still remember those three days in 1988.
Day 1: I walked into the gym when the Riffel Royals were playing the Edmonton Ross Sheppard Thunderbirds. Within minutes of my arrival, the Thunderbirds’ Lema Vaz drove to the hoop, soared over two would-be defenders, and dunked the ball. Not bad for a 6-foot-0 guard.
Day 2: The Luther Lions and Campbell Tartans, both of whom boasted strong teams during the 1987-88 Regina Intercollegiate Basketball League season, met in a Friday night semi-final. The game went down to the wire, with Campbell prevailing.
Day 3: Ross Sheppard and Campbell met in the final. The Thunderbirds’ pre-game dunk-fest was something to see. Once the game began, though, the Glenn Szabo-coached Tartans — a team that was led by 6-foot-4 guard Brian Livingston — was dominant.
The lead paragraph of my story: “The Edmonton Ross Sheppard Thunderbirds won the warmup. The Campbell Tartans won the game.” LIT won me over that year.
Even when I have not been involved in coverage of the tournament, I have made a point of attending (which might explain my issues with cholesterol).
I have missed only two LITs since 1988. One year in the 1990s, I was so immersed in coverage of major-junior hockey that it was impossible to sneak away from the office or the Agridome (now Brandt Centre). In 2010, I was out of town on the company’s dime, so I kept track of the tournament from afar.
One fine year, when winter vacation plans were being made, my sainted wife suggested a certain week in February.
“Nope,” I said, eloquently.
“Why not?” the beauteous Chryssoula queried.
“LIT,” I replied.
Karma got me. It was chillingly cold during tournament weekend. The pizza, however, was piping hot. It has indeed been a slice to experience LIT for all these years. Just like Thursday turns into Saturday in virtually no time, 1988 has become 2018.
Thirty years have disappeared faster than the wine gums.
May I humbly request 30 more?