The Epitome of Hospitality

Back in December, I went with Heights to Avila University in Kansas City for our game in the Hy-Vee Shootout. As I walked in the door, Gary Thomason, our JV head coach and varsity assistant, told me that there is only one way to tell a good coach from a bad coach: "How fast can he find the hospitality room? And you can't ask anyone, either. You have to have a nose for it. I'm a damn good coach. No one finds a hospitality room like Gary Thomason."

And he was right. Within two minutes, Gary had food and drink in hand, enjoying all the free concessions that Avila had to offer. I thought his whole speech was kind of a joke. I just didn't understand, though. A couple of weeks ago, back in Emporia, I finally figured out what he meant.

Gary and I arrived in Emporia early on the first day to scout the two first-round games preceding us. We walked in, shook a couple of hands, chatted with Joanna Chadwick, then made our way to the hospitality room.

"This place is great. They have the best chicken dumplings. Everything is good," he said.

As I walked in, I saw no chicken dumplings. I did, however, see a smorgasbord of food fit for a king. Every type of potato chip known to mankind was scattered on the row of tables. There were cheesy potato casseroles, pulled pork sandwiches, soups, and all the caffeine you could possibly want to put through your veins. This place was incredible. Being that I had to scout three games that day, as well as be on the bench for the Heights game, my trips to this magical place were short. However, though they were short, they were frequent.

On the second day, I walked by concession stands feeling sorry for the people in line.

'Those sorry saps don't know what they're missing,' I thought. 'Nachos? Please, I prefer pulled pork with butt sauce (still not sure what that is, but I liked it).'

By the third day, I was feeling cocky. I would walk in to the W.L. White Civic Center with a strut in my step. I was unstoppable, and I had a stamp on my hand to prove it. I would walk into heaven--I mean the hospitality room--talk to Jeffrey Lutz, make my way to the food, plop down for ten minutes, and inject some false energy in the form of a few cups of Coke.

Of course, without a doubt, winning the 6A state championship was my favorite part of Emporia. It's not even close. The hospitality room, though, was pretty darn good, too.

So Emporia, I thank you. You were quite hospitable.