A Final Four memory

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Every year when Final Four Weekend rolls around, I think back to 1977. As some will remember, the team representing my alma mater made all the way to the final game, but lost.

Here’s what I remember most: On that Friday, my mother had a massive stroke. I drove to Asheville that evening not knowing if she was still alive. While the semi-finals were going on, I was camped out with others in my family in the intensive care waiting room at Mission Hospital. By the time of the finals, she at least was out of intensive care. I avoided a significant loss. It’s a matter of perspective.

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Published by John Becton

I was born in Asheville NC in the first half of the last century. At 18, I left for Chapel Hill to attend the University of North Carolina. After graduating with honors in English, I spent three years in the Boston area, earning a Master of Divinity degree, then returned to Chapel Hill "for one year." I'm still here. Much of my public relations career gave me a lot of experience in journalism. Creative writing has been a life-long interest and avocation. In 2016, I published a collection of short stories, "Life Among the Letters," available from Amazon and Barnes & Noble. I have a wife, three adult children and six grandchildren.

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2 thoughts on “A Final Four memory”

  1. Pingback: Index – John B's blog

  2. Brings to mind Coach Smith’s response one time when, after a game, a reporter asked him if a certain stretch in the second half had been critical. Coach Smith replied that basketball is important, and some games or parts of games are more important than others. He then shared an experience in which one of his daughters survived a potentially fatal experience when she was young. “That’s critical,” he said. “Basketball is not critical.”

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