It’s the games. It’s doing something with your family and friends. It’s the food. It’s the bonding of a town or school for a common goal.

It’s tourney time.

Do you remember your first game?

I wasn’t sure if we were going on that cold winter’s day in 1970. Dad was on the midnight to 8 a.m. shift at the Great Northern mill in Millinocket. That meant he’d be driving to Bangor and back during a time he would usually be home sleeping. We’d have to be home by 11 p.m. as Dad always went in early to relieve his co-worker.

He knew, however, that he had three sons who loved basketball and he always fulfilled his promises. We piled into the Ford Fairlane and made the 70-mile trek to the big city.

The Bangor Auditorium seemed like a huge place to play a basketball game after spending time in Stearns’ gym – affectionately called the “Pit” by locals, as fans could reach and touch the players. Now that was a real home court advantage.

The steps had a bit of a spring to them as we walked up the auditorium bleachers and I wondered how they could hold the steady throng of people pounding up them. Then, I wondered if I really wanted to sit 12 rows up in the bleachers, which were open and seemed a bit treacherous to a clumsy 11-year-old.

We were safe, however, as there was just enough room to spread your elbows a bit when you wanted to clap along with the jam-packed crowd that filled the big old barn.

I wish I was like my brother Johnny – the family historian – and could remember more about the game. Stearns was playing Presque Isle in a semifinal. The game was close. The Stearns crowd was loud and a bit overzealous.

I was embarrassed at the shouts of “potato pickers” at the Presque Isle players. My parents were born and raised on farms in Aroostook County.

The game was close. Stearns kept a lead of three to five points and had a lead of one in the final seconds, but Presque Isle had the ball for one more play. The crowd around me – much more experienced fans, I guess – seemed to relax a bit.

The Stearns players seemed to relax a bit, too, and a Presque Isle player got an open look at the basket from the top of the key and let it fly …

It was on target – but short – and I experienced my first collective sigh of relief, followed by an explosion of cheers.

We reveled in the victory for a few minutes, but then made a quick exit to beat the traffic and run back to the car for the second highlight of the trek: a trip to McDonald’s. Other trips to Bangor and family vacations would mean sit-down meals at nice restaurants. McDonald’s food was still a new thing to us and something we enjoyed because we had it only a few times a year.

It didn’t surprise us when dad beat most of the traffic to Broadway, then the site of the only McDonald’s in Bangor. We hurried through the line and then enjoyed some of the best hamburgers and french fries I ever tasted – especially the french fries – on the trip back to the Magic City.

Many trips, games and outings with family and friends would follow that initial journey. Then it was off to college at the University of Maine – two years without the tourney until that third year, when the demands of college life were getting a bit overwhelming.

It was a cold February afternoon and I jumped in my car and headed to the tourney. I didn’t even know who was playing and didn’t really care.

Walking into the auditorium was the elixir I needed. The smell of popcorn, the squeak of sneakers on the hardwood, the peppy music from the school bands. And the games – the genuine enthusiasm, hustle and determination of the players.

Since then I’ve made it to the tourney every year. Sometimes for just one game. Sometimes for several. Every time it’s provided a little spark.

It’s tourney time.

Sports editor Joe McLaughlin can be reached at 990-8229 or jmclaughlin@bangordailynews.net.