I got to thinking about Dayton, Ohio, because of basketball.
But the memory that led to had to do with baseball.
When I was about 13 or 14, my friend Matt and I were down at the rail next to the grass at Cincinnati's Crosley Field long before the start of a Reds vs. Braves game.
We were hoping to get a few autographs. But none of the players was paying any attention to us.
Until Matt, who lives in Dayton, yelled "Hey, Hank!"
And over walked future home run king Henry Aaron. He signed our scorecards.
I was embarrassed when Matt shouted like that. But if he had not done so, we would not be able to say about 45 years later that we had met one of the most significant athletes of the century.
Ever had a friend like Matt?