March Madness has begun and I can truly say this is my favorite time of the entire year. I grew up with a love of basketball that began in the early 1970s on our small hobby farm located 30 minutes south of the state capitol in Madison, Wisconsin.

Our large gambrel style barn was a working barn that housed sheep, black Angus cattle, chickens, a couple of mutts, several cats and dozens of bats that would emerge from the rafters at dusk. It also had mice, one of which ran up my pants leg when I was throwing bales of hay down the chute.

The barn was large and had a cavernous haymow. The haymow had a wooden floor, slightly warped in places from moisture that had leaked into the imposing structure that was a foundation of early 20th century farming. In the middle of the haymow was a single light bulb which offered minimal light. There were wooden doors on one side of the barn and in the more moderate temperature months these were opened to allow some daylight to stream into our court area.

The barn served as the hub of our farm activity and it also was where my love of basketball was formed. At one end of the haymow my dad built a homemade wood backboard made of pine boards and on these boards, he mounted a basketball hoop. This was where my love of the game began and grew. Amidst hay dust, bat guano, the bleats of sheep, I honed my shot. My nightly farm chores were never completed without a recess that included dozens or hundreds of shots, dribbles and fakes around imaginary defenders, and sometimes real ones, when my older brothers or my dad would join me.

My brothers were several years older than me and when we played, their competitive nature wouldn’t allow them to let me win, though they would let me shoot unimpeded for awhile until the score became too close for their comfort. And yes, we always kept score.

The 105-year-old barn still stands today. It belongs to a different family now and perhaps more memories are being made within this historic and imposing structure that harkens to time that is rapidly fading from existence. There are fewer farms now, very few wooden barns, and fewer kids spending their free time pursuing their hoop dreams breathing hay dust.

As I watch the NCAA tournament unfold I wonder how many, if any, of the players today grew up shooting baskets in a dusty haymow. Probably none of them.

The commercialized college game that exists now has taken the fun out of the game for many. Today’s college players are compensated handsomely, some are making in excess of seven figures through NIL deals, and are willing to play for whichever school makes the largest offer. Players change teams yearly, and some coaches do too. The idea that these are student athletes rather than professional athletes, is getting harder to defend. I can’t blame a young man for trying to capitalize on his talents while he can. A good player can earn as much in four years playing college basketball as the average worker makes in an entire lifetime.

My dream, had I been good enough, was to play basketball for the University of Wisconsin. Nothing would have dissuaded me from this had they offered me a scholarship to play there. I would have considered myself the luckiest person alive had that happened. Even if I never got to play in a game, just wearing the jersey would have me the proudest guy around.

Where has the loyalty with today’s college athletes gone? Watching rosters completely change year to year brings me to the realization that the guys wearing your favorite team jersey aren’t always playing for the name on the jersey. Some are playing for themselves. The best teams are the ones that realize that they can only win if they play together and support each other, through the good and the bad times. And every season has its ups and downs.

Michael Jordan was a great player, but he didn’t win a single championship until he realized that he needed to trust his teammates and that he couldn’t carry the team to a win without their contributions. Selfishness never wins championships. Unfortunately, this new age of college basketball might take the joy out of the game for many long-time fans. And how many of today’s players are really trying to win a championship? Many are thinking of where their next big paycheck will come from long before they played their final game of the season. It’s all about the money now.

The kid that grew up shooting hoops in a haymow is having trouble acknowledging and accepting this new reality. But maybe if I was growing up today I could learn to love another name besides Wisconsin on my jersey, if the price was right.