In the past couple of years, Tennessee’s basketball team has persevered through personnel losses. Last year, SEC Player of the Year Chris Lofton was lost for a portion of the season with a high ankle sprain, and the Vols kept the ship steady for a couple of weeks. This year, Duke Crews’ heart condition left UT a big man short down low for half the season.

Now, though, the Vols are going to be forced to win a couple of games without somebody who has been there through thick and thin:

The Ghost himself.

Anybody who knows me knows it is completely out of character for me to miss even a portion of any Vols football or basketball game. My entire life — and I’m not saying this is a good thing — is planned around UT’s schedule in those two sports. If I have to work, I take extended lunches during game times. If I have something planned, I either break plans or stay away from all forms of media, DVR it and watch it when I get home — usually on that crystal-clear Raycom-quality broadcast. It is the same way with 162 Atlanta Braves games per year.

Well, this weekend is a little different.

If you are an avid reader and remember this post, then you’ll know me and the Mrs. were expecting a little one. I won’t go back and read the post, because, frankly, it’s a little hard to relive. But we lost our baby about a month ago because it wasn’t the Lord’s time for us. It’s been the toughest thing we’ve ever had to go through, but we’re trying to accept God’s will and know we’ll have a baby soon enough. We have, and we will, but it doesn’t make it any easier.

OK, wipe away the tears because this isn’t meant to be a sob story. Basically, from here on out, this falls under the “Ghost is an idiot” category that I added simply for this blog. Where most people would, you know, look at the schedule (like I ALWAYS do) in planning a trip, I neglected.

A couple of buddies on this blog suggested that after a little time had passed, I should plan a trip to kind of get away from everything, hang out with each other, come back and start fresh. You know, put the tragedy behind us and move forward.

Great idea, I thought. So, after working some channels and re-planning and taking a couple of twists in the road, I got us into Disney World at a discounted price. So, we’re leaving tonight and sticking around through Sunday. Looking at the calendar — which, by the way, should freakin’ have Vols basketball games on it as holidays … sigh — I realized we’d miss Good Friday and Easter at home. I don’t recall missing but one Easter Sunday at church in my life, so we battled that and elected to go anyway, chiefly because our work schedules lined up, and it made sense.

So, I planned it. We booked it. Then, a couple weeks ago, it dawned on me. OH MY DEAR LORD! THAT’S THE FIRST WEEKEND OF THE NCAA TOURNAMENT!!! OH NO! OH NO! OH NO!

My first thought was rescheduling, so I went to the Mrs., and y’all, if you could have seen that look she gave me, you would have immediately recanted, too. See, Disney World is my wife’s favorite place in the world.

We just had to have a wall replaced in our new house where her look of pure evil burned a hole through the drywall. So, I followed it up with, “Oh, I was just kidding, honey.”

Sigh. Plan B time.

“Well, I’ll just have to find a place in the park to watch it,” I tried. Seconds later, my catlike reflexes were all that saved me from a roundhouse kick to the side of the face.

Then Sunday came, and the brackets were announced, and I saw that we got a Friday-Sunday draw. After my initial remorse that the games would be played in nearby Birmingham, and I was missing a prime opportunity to go, I quickly got over it — (part of the reason is we only had dull knives in the drawer.) But, then I realized that I could sacrifice the game against American, seeing as if we lose that one, I don’t want to see it, anyway.

Then, on Sunday — the ride-home day — I have devised a fool-proof plan (I’m trying to convince myself) not to see the Tennessee-Butler/South Alabama score all day. I will have the game DVRed and ready for me when I get home that night at 7ish, and if I follow these plans to a T, I should be golden.

1. Make Mrs. Ghost drive the whole way home and spend the 10 hours curled in a fetal position under the blanket with CDs blasting and reading a book. That way, I will not be able to see any vehicles driving down the road with orange flags or accidentally be flipping through the radio stations and get a score.
2. Have her pump the gas. We’re driving my parents’ car, and it not only has Tennessee license plates (because they still live in God’s country) but also a Vols tag on the front. This is a dead giveaway every time, and I want to guard against some numbskull at the pump beside me saying, “Sorry about that game today, bro,” or “How ’bout them Vols!!!???”
3. Leave my Tennessee clothes at home. Again, this is the perfect opportunity for someone to see my allegiance and give away the game. Like the other day for instance, I navigated my workday to include a two-hour lunch so I could watch the Vols play South Carolina. Walking out the door, a co-worker said, “They got it done today, didn’t they??” Well, that’s great. What if I’d DVRed it and didn’t want to know anything? I’d have been screwed.
4. Turn off my cellphone. This is the biggest key. Inevitably, as many UT fans as I try to surround myself with, there will be somebody who will text me “i luv lofton” or “dam howl” or “lol at chisms 3s” or “im gonna jmp off bridge.” Or my dad will get excited and call, or someone will randomly mention it in conversation.
5. Run into the bedroom when we get home while sticking my fingers in my ears and singing “Rocky Top” at the rocky top of my lungs while my wife turns on the television and starts the recorded game. Throughout my history of recording games, this has been the thing that’s gotten me in trouble the most. It’s like being on that old gameshow “Press Your Luck” and having one more spin and getting a Whammy. You’re almost ready for the fruits of your day of hard labor, and BOOM! you know who won.

As long as I can make it back to the haven of my home with the recorded game in front of me, I’ll be fine. I know the chances of me not hearing a score before I get home Sunday is around 4 percent, but if I can make it, the reward will be worth the risks … unless we lose.

***

On a serious note, Mrs. Ghost has been very gracious through all of this, and the above scenes are obviously joking. She’s a saint to put up with my endless crap.

This year has taught me that there are many more important things than sports. Sports can definitely enhance your life and the good times in it, and, consequently, magnify pain and make it worse. When we were pregnant and UT lost to Kentucky, it wasn’t the end of the world like it had been in previous years. When we lost to Arkansas the other night, for a moment I had that same pang in my stomach that just was an awful feeling, and I realized that — at its core — it didn’t have a whole lot to do with the game. It was more me feeling sorry for myself and the game sinking down to where it belonged and just being sad about the miscarriage again.

It is because of that — and because I know my strong-willed and kind-hearted wife is having those moments, too — that this trip is so important. There is no way I can go the whole trip without thinking of my Vols, thinking of our blog and thinking of winning the NCAA tournament. But the main point of this trip is healing, getting away from the pain that we’ve endured and just having a good time together. The Lord has blessed us with the opportunity to have the finances to take a trip like this and get back on our feet in preparation for the trials of praying we get pregnant again. So, there’s no way I’ll drag her through the ballgames while we’re there. That would be selfish. Hopefully, I can play the role of ‘good husband’ for once, pull off this trip and not see the scores.

If I do see them, I’ll survive. But I don’t have to be happy about it.