The view up here provides a rare opportunity to put things in perspective. I’m somewhere north of 30,000 feet, floating above a smooth blanket of clouds, penning this post as I fly home from Indianapolis after witnessing the final few games of the 2025–26 college basketball season.
And what a season it was.
It had seemingly a little bit of everything… highs that made you jump out of your seat and lows that made you stare at the floor a little longer than you’d like. There were standout performances that will be talked about for years (including the latest “Christian Laettner shot”) and outcomes that left players and fans methodically nursing and rehearsing a few of the extended “what ifs.” We saw seniors who stayed and freshmen who arrived ready to play. There were also a few Cinderella stories that reminded us why we keep watching in the first place.
With a total of 136 DI teams included in the men’s and women’s tournaments, the season delivered what it always does: unpredictability, intensity and some memorable moments—some triumphant, some regrettable—that reflect the very best and occasionally the messiest parts of competition. And yes, perhaps a moment or two some would gladly redo, not for the scoreboard, but for how they behaved on the sidelines (hello, Mr. Auriemma).
So much of a sports season mirrors real life—ambition and resilience, heartbreak and redemption—all playing out in real time with the TV cameras broadcasting all live.
As for the Final Four, this was a bit of a personal bucket lister. Indianapolis was a wonderful host, with the city truly transformed into a celebration of the game. Beyond the hardwood, there was a palpable energy throughout downtown… from Fan Fest to pics with the National Championship trophy to sports figures everywhere, miles of walking and wandering, and yes, the legendary shrimp cocktail at St. Elmo’s—an experience that takes both your breath away and clears your sinuses for the foreseeable future.
Of course, I had hoped to see my own team there, but alas, I did not. The last four standing came from Arizona, Connecticut, Illinois and Michigan, with Michigan ultimately and joyfully cutting down the nets. My Boilermakers bowed out one round too soon.
And yet—and this makes me think up here—I still found the Final Four to be fabulous. Because the magic wasn’t just in who played. It was in how so many showed up.
There was extraordinary talent on the court, yes. Teams that were easy to root for, even if they weren’t yours. Cheers that shook the rafters and jeers that carried just enough edge to keep things interesting. But more than that, there was something bigger happening in that stadium filled with more than 70,000 people. We were all there together.
Different teams. Different loyalties. Different opinions about every call, every play, every outcome. People stood shoulder to shoulder, passionately invested, loudly expressive—and often in complete disagreement.
Differences were everywhere. But so was respect. And that’s the part that lingers.
In a world that often feels divided, sports—at their best—quietly and consistently remind us of something important: we can care deeply, disagree loudly, and still share the same space with a sense of mutual respect. We can be rivals without being enemies. We can want different outcomes without losing sight of our shared experience.
It’s 70,000 people choosing to gather, to feel something together, to be part of a collective moment that doesn’t require agreement to be meaningful. It’s proof that unity doesn’t demand sameness. It simply asks for respect.
What a great season. What an even better event.
And what a powerful reminder of what real life could look like, if we let it.
Respectfully…
AR