The book

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(As told by Tom Van Arsdale)    

     We had reached the last stop of the tournament: the State Finals at Butler Fieldhouse. My brother, Dick, and I stepped on the gleaming wooden floor, looked out at the 15,000 seats and all I could think was: What am I doing here? Had we really made it to our basketball court of dreams? 

     There was no such self-doubt on the part of Dick. 

     Let me fill you in on a secret about identical twins: They’re not always identical! That Saturday at the fieldhouse, and again on other occasions later in our basketball careers, I would draw confidence from Dick that we were where we were supposed to be, that we had earned our place at the top through all the hard work we had put in. I did know that the excitement we both felt was immense. 

     The setting for the championship game exceeded our every expectation. The lights were hot, the baskets gleamed, and the floor hadn’t so much as a scuff. With the sell-out crowd in place, the arena had a vastness that made it seem easy to lose yourself, and easy for others to lose you. If we didn’t rise to the occasion, all the glare and noise would wash us right out. They say the best players “shine” in big games, and we knew that if we didn’t stand out on a stage like the Butler Fieldhouse, we might as well be invisible. 

     At tipoff of the final versus Kokomo, I felt the world shrink as soon as I stepped on the court with my brother and the other Indianapolis Manual starters. Kokomo’s 1961 players had lost just four games during the last two years. These guys were the Goliath of Indiana high school basketball at the time. 

     As the sell-out crowd’s roar began to fade, the Kokomo starters came out to meet us, the bright lights around the arena dimmed, and there was nothing except the 10 players on the court, the ball and the two hoops. None of us could have known it, but we were about to play one of the most famous games in the history of Indiana basketball, the epic 1961 final between Manual and Kokomo. 

     I’ll never forget the first time my mom took me (to the Wigwam). I think it was 1972, when I was 6 years old. My first game night started with a trip to the Frisch’s Big Boy. As time went on, I learned that whenever we ate there on the night of a game, we knew we were going to watch basketball.

     And then it was on to the Wigwam.

     If you ever went to the Wigwam on a game night, you’d remember the statue of the Indian in front of the building. When those lights were shining on him, you knew they were playing basketball inside. The other thing about the Wigwam that was unmistakable and still sticks with me today is the smell of the popcorn. I know that everyone remembers the smell of the popcorn on game night from wherever they played or watched Indiana high school basketball. But I’m telling you, there was something special about the popcorn at the Wigwam. There really was nothing like it, and anybody who watched games there knows what I’m talking about.

     Once I made it inside, I couldn’t believe how big the Wigwam was, and I could see that every seat would be filled. That first game, I knew that my main man was going to be No. 43, Roy Taylor, who was the team’s star even though he was only a sophomore. It seemed like all they talked about on the radio was how great of a player Roy Taylor was. And, with a name like Roy, so like Troy, how could I go wrong?

     The game had already started by the time we made it in, and as I got to my seat up in AA section, near the ceiling, I quickly went to work looking for big No. 43. To my disappointment, though, No. 43 wasn’t so big, and he wasn’t even very involved. I kept waiting to see something good, but he really didn’t do anything. And, before I knew it, the game was wrapping up and I was unsure what had even happened.

     Strangely, as we sat there even though the game was over, the building kept filling up. And, before long, there were other players sprinting onto the court wearing different, and more impressive, red and green jerseys.

     My confusion was that I didn’t know that we had actually been watching the JV game!

     The band started playing, the Indian came out and did a tribal dance, and the lights all went out except for the ones over the court. I was in awe, and I said to myself, right then and there, “I’m going to play in this place someday.”

     It was incredible. I was starstruck, and then I really did see big No. 43. He was announced into the starting lineup, and I was over the moon with excitement. I told my mom, “There’s my man! That’s Roy Taylor!”

     And that was my introduction to the Wigwam and Anderson Indians’ basketball.