401ks
March 17th, 2010, 11:25 PM
http://www.nytimes.com/2010/03/17/sports/ncaabasketball/17butler.html
It’s the Bricks That Make Butler Basketball Special
By JOHN BRANCH
Published: March 16, 2010
INDIANAPOLIS — Hinkle Fieldhouse looks like a red-brick airplane hangar, rising above the neighboring houses at one corner of the Butler University campus. And when a basketball game is played there, the cheers spill through its cracks and its leaky roof and its high windows.
There is no video board. There are no luxury suites. The locker rooms are tight and the narrow concourse congested. Butler’s athletic department offices are squeezed here and there in the recesses under the bleachers.
It is all decidedly, wonderfully old school, even for an old school, founded in 1855. One of the best men’s college basketball programs in the country lives here, as no-frilled as the famous barn in which it plays.
There is something different about Butler. It stands out amid a college basketball landscape where bigger and newer and brasher are confused with success. Butler commands attention simply because it wins, quietly.
Without even the desire for a new arena, without nationally renowned recruits or well-recognized coaches, without a large fan base or much attention from even the local news media, Butler has become a sustained midmajor power, a Gonzaga of the Midwest. In a state that cherishes small-town basketball, Butler feels more Indiana than Indiana — or Purdue, or Notre Dame, or any other college that garners more attention, even for basketball programs that may not be as good.
It’s the Bricks That Make Butler Basketball Special
By JOHN BRANCH
Published: March 16, 2010
INDIANAPOLIS — Hinkle Fieldhouse looks like a red-brick airplane hangar, rising above the neighboring houses at one corner of the Butler University campus. And when a basketball game is played there, the cheers spill through its cracks and its leaky roof and its high windows.
There is no video board. There are no luxury suites. The locker rooms are tight and the narrow concourse congested. Butler’s athletic department offices are squeezed here and there in the recesses under the bleachers.
It is all decidedly, wonderfully old school, even for an old school, founded in 1855. One of the best men’s college basketball programs in the country lives here, as no-frilled as the famous barn in which it plays.
There is something different about Butler. It stands out amid a college basketball landscape where bigger and newer and brasher are confused with success. Butler commands attention simply because it wins, quietly.
Without even the desire for a new arena, without nationally renowned recruits or well-recognized coaches, without a large fan base or much attention from even the local news media, Butler has become a sustained midmajor power, a Gonzaga of the Midwest. In a state that cherishes small-town basketball, Butler feels more Indiana than Indiana — or Purdue, or Notre Dame, or any other college that garners more attention, even for basketball programs that may not be as good.