Why I’m Going to March Madness, During COVID

My first trip to Indianapolis was in 2010 for the Final Four. My brother and I road-tripped from the East Coast, buoyed by a bandwagon fandom for the Butler Bulldogs. We secured tickets through a broker and watched, breathless, as Gordon Hayward nearly slayed Duke with a half-court buzzer shot inside Lucas Oil Stadium.

That 2010 trip launched a decade-long streak of NCAA tournament tourism, stretching from Boston to Houston, Greensboro to Glendale, Arizona. One year it would be the noon-to-midnight marathon of the first round, when 12 hours of college basketball seemed almost too much. Another year it would be the Sweet Sixteen or Final Four.

The trips were about much more than the games. The adventures offered the chance to mingle with visitors from all over the United States. Get, and give, good-natured ribbing with fans of rival teams. Discover the local cuisine. Explore the host city during the off-day of the Thurs-Saturday or Friday-Sunday games. Bond with my brother. 

The NCAA tournament became the mainstay on my annual travel list, similar to someone who has a second home on a lake or by the beach. But my second home was an arena, somewhere, in March.

COVID-19 became real to me on March 11, 2020, when the NCAA announced it would allow only limited family attendance at tournament games. Conference tournaments were being canceled, but the Big East was still on.

I went on a ticket-resale app and gawked at the bloodbath as prices for Big East games the next day plummeted to $5. I rarely went to the Big East tournament because it was expensive, but here was my chance to get in, practically for free. I debated if I should risk exposure to this new coronavirus for my $5 dream, but decided to play it safe. The Big East game I skipped was the one cut short at halftime on March 12, 2020. The NCAA would soon cancel its tournament entirely, and send me a refund for the tickets I had purchased months ago for the first- and second-round games in Albany.

Now, the NCAA tournament is serving as another marker of COVID-19. On November 16, the NCAA announced the 2021 tournament would be held in one city and that it was in talks with Indianapolis to be the location. I immediately looked up Bankers Life Fieldhouse on a map, figuring some games would be played at the home of the Pacers. I plotted the distance between Bankers and Lucas Oil Stadium, guessing Lucas might host games too. Then I searched for hotels in that area, and booked a room for March 18-22. I triple-checked that I could cancel the reservation because Indianapolis was merely a possible host city and dates were unknown.

And I’d have to assess, in March, what COVID was doing. 

Through the long winter of spikes in coronavirus cases and the unceasing death toll, I’d sometimes think of my hotel reservation in downtown Indianapolis, near all the fun bars and restaurants my brother and I went to in 2010. As I considered when I might be able to travel again, I wasn’t pining for Paris or the Caribbean, but a two-star chain hotel near Circle Centre Mall.

Maybe I could go to March Madness. 

Just as I had debated the risks and rewards of that $5 Big East game a year ago, I made similar calculations about heading to Indianapolis this month. Becoming eligible for the COVID-19 vaccine in my state, and getting the one-dose Janssen shot, tipped the scales toward deciding to go.

I will take precautions during my trip, packing lots of masks, washing my hands often, keeping socially distant. Everything I have been doing for 12 months, but now in Indianapolis.

Finalizing my trip to brought a joy I hadn’t felt in more than a year. Things aren’t normal yet, and this tournament will be so different from all the others. But watching an underdog defeat a higher seed, amid the cheers of the 25% crowd, will be a small first step to normalcy. 

Sharon Waters is a freelance writer/editor and March Madness fan. Learn more at SharonAnnWaters.com