To be a fan is a curious thing. It means willingly signing up for emotional instability tied to outcomes we can’t control. It’s a peculiar blend of loyalty and irrational hope—where our identity quietly intertwines with a school, a roster, maybe a story bigger than us. A true fan doesn’t just celebrate wins; we invest in them, savoring victory like it was personally earned. And yet, the real test of fandom isn’t how loudly we cheer in success, but how stubbornly we stay when the losses loom large.
That feels especially true during March Madness, when sixty-eight of college basketball’s finest chase the same goal: to be the lone team that wins its final game. Millions of us tune in, paying special attention to our alma maters, the underdogs, and the teams we’ve long called our own.
It’s no secret the Intramuralist is a Purdue fan. While earning a pair of degrees, it became a place where I grew up, built lifelong friendships, and learned valuable lessons in life, leadership, and relationships.
Purdue’s entry into the 2026 tournament has offered its own set of lessons. A little context…
College sports feel shaky right now. As Outkick’s Trey Wallace recently wrote, they sit “in an era defined by NIL money and transfer portal chaos.”
NIL (Name, Image, and Likeness) has opened the door for athletes to earn real money—through sponsorships, endorsements, and, increasingly, pay-for-play dynamics. Pair that with the transfer portal, and you get a kind of free-market system: constant movement, fierce competition, and very little long-term continuity. The traditional idea of staying, building, and developing? It’s fading fast.
Michigan State Hall of Fame coach Tom Izzo put it bluntly: “I keep coming back because I’m stubborn and dumb… I’m not ready to give into the system, even though I think the system is completely broken.”
How broken? In the last six seasons, more than 4,300 men’s basketball players have transferred. Four-year players at one school are now the exception, not the rule.
As of this month, only 22 scholarship players in high-major conferences have stayed all four years at their original school. Only 22. Three of them are at Purdue.
Two—Braden Smith and Fletcher Loyer—have started together in the backcourt for four straight seasons.
The third, Trey Kaufman-Renn, arrived as a highly ranked recruit and agreed to redshirt his first year, trusting the process—believing it would be good for both the team and for him.
There’s just something about Purdue. These young men commit. They grow together. They learn lessons that stretch well beyond the court. As Kaufman-Renn said recently, “You may get more money elsewhere—but what’s the dollar amount on the relationships I’ve built? On the values I’ve learned?” That sentiment is echoed across the board. These young men are learning so much more than basketball.
They learn that when they come to play for Coach Matt Painter—a former Boilermaker himself—who has built a culture centered on chemistry, accountability, and character; the idea of “one-and-done” is not his forte, tempting as the perceived fleeting success may be. Painter is known for humility, honesty and integrity—traits that have led Izzo to call Painter the best coach in the Big Ten, adding, “There’s never been a time where Matt Painter doesn’t do what’s best for his kids over himself.”
The players must believe that. Because they come. And they stay. They get their education. And they walk away with more lessons in life than the hardwood.
It’s not that Purdue has been the best story of this year’s tournament. There have been plenty of Cinderella runs and headline-makers alike… Iowa and Miami of Ohio immediately come to mind. But as Purdue closes out its 2025–26 season—falling just short of the Final Four—one thing is certain…
Their fan base isn’t going anywhere. Because it’s not just about wins. It’s about who they are. That’s why we love them so.
Respectfully,
AR