Kyle Keiderling, author of the book Trophies & Tears (which can be purchased here: TrophiesandTearsbook.com) has graciously sent me an epilogue that he wrote for Roberts Stadium that you will not find in his book or anywhere else. Not only should this epilogue give you a hint at why his book is one of the best written books on Evansville Ace's basketball and Roberts Stadium, it also should stand as a testament to the impact Roberts Stadium has had on not just our local community but the nation as well.
So without further adieu, I present to you "Remembering Roberts"
Remembering Roberts
Kyle Keiderling
It stands empty now.
Cold.
Cavernous.
Eerily silent.
The home of the
Aces of Evansville has seen its last college basketball game. After fifty-five
seasons, five national championships, and more memories than can be imagined,
it has been declared obsolete and replaced by a new, shining, $127 million
futuristic arena downtown.
Replaced—but not
forgotten.
“It was the
embodiment of the city,” said Rich Davis.
And so it was.
Roberts Stadium
was home to the Aces for more than half a century. If those wearing the colors
of the Purple Aces were idolized and deified by the people of Evansville, then
Roberts was the temple in which they offered their devotions.
Roberts, like the
Aces themselves, can never really be replaced in the hearts and minds of fans
in Evansville. It was a special place. A place where you saw everyone you
wanted to see and where you, in turn, were seen.
Attired in red,
the crowds that gathered within its walls saw history made and made history
themselves by congregating in greater numbers than spectators anywhere else in
the vast land of Division II basketball. From the opening night in 1956 until
February 26, 2011, it was the place to be in Evansville, a social mecca that
provided thrills and excitement to break the numbing monotony of long, cold
winter nights.
The relationship
of the Aces and Evansville was a long-term affair, and, like many long-term
relationships, the flames of passion died a little with each passing year. But
in the embers of the fire glow the memories of years gone by.
The fire may be
banked and the ardor that once roared has cooled, but the fleeting spark still
rises from the ashes. From time to time the accomplishments of the Aces
rekindle the flame, and it roars to life again, igniting the old passion anew.
With a little
imagination you can still see the names and faces of those who stoked the
flames into bonfires through the years.
Oh, if only these
walls could tell of all they’ve seen.
The shot by Buster
Briley, the pioneering presence of Jim Smallins, Ed Smallwood gliding across
the court with the grace of a man known as the Big Smoke. The Mackey Marvel—Gus
Doerner, the Old Man—Hugh Ahlering, the Cox brothers, Wayne Boultinghouse, and
high-scoring Larry Humes. Jerry Sloan, Sam Watkins, and Herb Williams and the
team that was perfect.
The last
championship squad with Don Buse, Mike Platt, and Rick Smith. The young team of
1977–78 with so much promise and such a shocking end. Scott Haffner, Marty
Simmons, coaches Dick Walters and Jim Crews reviving the program.
And, of course,
Mac.
Stoic,
professorial, brilliant Mac, whose only display of emotion was the stomping of
a red-clad foot on the sideline on his way to the Hall Of Fame.
And the colors.
Oh, those many
colors.
In all of college
basketball no team has ever been more colorful than the Purple Aces of
Evansville. Players in multihued long robes, covering bright orange
t-shirt-style jerseys, charging onto the court from a tunnel into a sea of red.
Where once the
roar of the crowd reverberated from the rafters and washed in waves over the
court, only silence reigns. But, if you listen closely enough, you can still
hear the echoes of the storied past.
Echoes are all
that remain of Roberts now, but surely, if you try, you can still hear the
familiar rhythmic chant of more than 13,000 fervent fans as they implore:
ACES! ACES! clap, clap—clapclapclap
ACES! ACES! clap, clap—clapclapclap.
No comments:
Post a Comment