Aside from my fraternity house, there's no place on campus where I spent more of my four years at Butler than Hinkle Fieldhouse. As a radio-tv major and a budding sportscaster, I was involved in either broadcasting each basketball game or practicing on a tape recorder in the "crow's nest" high above the north basket. I remember so well how excited we were when a highly acclaimed kid named Larry Bird and the Indiana State Sycamores came to the Fieldhouse one cold winter night. As a member of the swim team, I also remember the long hours we spent in the pool and weight room in the bowels of the Fieldhouse--- a weight room that would look puny by today's standards in any junior high school in America. I remember the meets against our rivals Evansville, Wabash and Valpo in particular. Most of all, I remember the wonderful friendships I made and the great coach, Gene Lee, who made us all better swimmers and people. If memory serves me correctly, the USA/Russia High School All-Star game I attended filled up the Fieldhouse, which was a rare sight in my era. The Fieldhouse would occasionally serve as a venue for rock-n-roll shows, and the one I recall best was Styx which at the time was a hugely successful act and a surprisingly big time booking for our little school. I also remember serving as a reporter for WAJC (Butler's radio station) at a rally for President Gerald Ford prior to the election in 1976. Afterward, I met the President and a picture of that handshake made the front page of the Indianapolis Star. A copy of that picture can be found today at the Sigma Chi house (and on a wall in my basement!). I could go on and on. Suffice it to say Hinkle Fieldhouse meant a lot to me back in the day--and even more to me now. I love the way it smells. The way it looks. The way my spine tingles when I look up and see those rugged steel girders and the way the hardwood floor shines when the sun peeks through those classic windows high above. Whenever I walk in the door, I feel like I'm home again. And that is as good as it gets.