Final Four, now Penultimate Pair. Plus, A Memoir of a Kindergarten Run-DMC fan

April is here.  Baseball season has emerged from its den like a drowsy grizzly bear.  Pranks have been perpetrated.  Clocks have been advanced an hour enabling blackened mahi-mahi to be prepared on the barbecue at 7PM without need for lantern or candle.  (By the way, our definition of spring/summer is enjoying freshly grilled fish tacos while quaffing Lost Abbey's Avant Garde Ale as the sun sets slowly over the Pacific.)  David Beckham has returned, headband and all, to the LA Galaxy.  And, the Final Four is contested in some cavernous, domed, football stadium.

[rant alert]

Given that the NCAA is now fully embracing the Theory of the Big Lie by simultaneously pushing the mythology of the Student Athlete* and selling off every piece of it's amateur soul to the highest bidder.  Everyone, even the guy that took Brandon Knight's SATs knows why the NCAA forces tournament venues to remove advertising signage from the on-camera side of the building.  It's so they can protect their "corporate partners" who have paid obscene sums to elbow their way in to the manufactured aura given off by the Sacred Cult of College Sports.  (See also: Fronline from March 29th) And, therefore it should not come to anyone's surprise that the basketball finals are being held in a indoor gridiron football arena.  (Someone still needs to provide a rational explanation as to why they need a roof on a football field in Texas.)  But it should raise an eyebrow or two that there are sports fans willing to pay a king's ransom to sit a country mile away from floor in the era of free, ubiquitous, over-the-air HD broadcasting.  Of course, the answer is, no, there aren't sports fans willing to pay for that view of the game.  Those chairs are filled by butts attached to clients being entertained by NCAA corporate partners who are writing off the entire weekend as a business expense.  So, be thankful residents of Glendale, AZ, Arlington and Houston, TX, New Orleans, LA, Detroit, MI, Minneapolis, MN, Atlanta, GA, Saint Louis, MO, and Seattle, WA.  You will be the permanent members of the Final Four Hosts Club...until another municipality is extorted into paying to erect a new, state-of-the-art gridiron football cathedral.

*"Student Athlete is a registered trademark of the NCAA

[steps down from soapbox]



Game Recaps...

UConn vs. U. Con


Since this was the less interesting and less exciting game - even though UConn playing Kentucky in the reminds us of the 1990s when we were younger, idealistic, and quite certain that Eddie Vedder was the coolest person alive - we will tackle this one quickly first.  As alluded to in the snarky heading for this section both teams, or more accurately, both coaches are well acquainted with NCAA investigators.  Connecticut's Jim Calhoun will be suspended for three games next season and have many fewer scholarships to hand out, but that relatively short rap sheet pales in comparison to Kentucky's John Calipari's infamy.  Does anyone else find it funny that Calipari always seems to have a more lucrative job lined up just moments before his current employer is hit with sanctions for his recruiting violations?  Talk about a rat leaving a sinking ship.

Calipari's curriculum vitae

Anyway, this game was rarely interesting despite Kentucky erasing a ten point halftime deficit.  With all the talent on the floor at the same time, this one resembled a regular season NBA game.  The game belonged to the Huskies and their star, Kemba Walker.  He lived up to his billing as much as Kentucky's Brandon Knight did not.

The most noteworthy event occurred in the second half when the CBS broadcast team were confounded by the fact that the third TV timeout hadn't happened as scheduled, so they had to push the last two into the final three minutes.  I'm sure there were a few ad buyers sitting in a pool of their own flop sweat for a few tense minutes there.  This prompted us to form a truly radical idea.  What if the timeouts taken by the teams to control the tempo of the game precluded the TV timeouts if they happen in the same scheduled intervals?  Yeah, that's just crazy talk.


The Bulldog Butlers vs. VCU


This was the game of the night.  We were tempted to watch the games in reverse order, knowing that this one was going to be the better, more dramatic affair.  But, there were sure to be spoilers in the UConn/Kentucky broadcast, so we were forced to watch this one first.  Now, dear reader, you may have guess that we here at the blog have a serious weakness for the Cinderella stories in this fine tournament.  A little piece of us dies every time a George Mason is knocked out, and the cockles of our hearts are warmed every time they outlast a highly touted opponent.  Why is this?  To answer we must first take a stroll down memory lane.

Waaaaaay back in 1985...

Not the first, but one of the earliest memories we have of watching sports with our dad was the 1985 Final Four.  We were quite young and impressionable at the time, so we were certain that all the screaming morons on TV were correct in predicting that Georgetown, led by Patrick Ewing and His Adidas, (We were also HUGE Run-DMC fans back then, too.  So much so, that we made our mom buy us white Adidas sneakers so we could wear them without laces just like our heroes.  It turned out that we had great difficulty running around on the playground with the other kids at recess that way.  Being cooler than everyone else in Kindergarten had its price.) would mop the floor with Villanova.  Pops just shrugged as he said something like, "We'll see who has more points at the end of the game," which was an infuriating thing to say to our believing-the-hype brain, but was correctly informed by the wisdom of experience.  He knew full well that in one game anything can happen, especially when the underdog is on a hot streak.  Anything did indeed happen as we now recall the image of a disheveled and unhinged looking Rollie Massimino tearing around the court after 'Nova upset the top ranked Hoyas (This was back in the long forgotten past when Georgetown played well in tournaments.).  This was of course, a world-view changing moment in our life.  Never again would we be fooled into rooting for an overrated team from a powerful basketball school.

1985 Villanova Wildcats: worldbeaters

Which brings us back to this game where we were paradoxically pulling against the Bulldog Butlers.  Only in this years tourney can the real feel good story of the Butlers second straight appearance in the championship game be eclipsed by the even more feel good story of Shaka Smart and the Rams.

It was hard to have to say goodbye to one of these well-coached teams, but Brad Stevens was able to coax his team into settling down after the VCU pressure had them rattled early.  Butler never looked panicked the rest of the way and played the type of basketball that just gets the job done, and despite the media's hard-on for Matt Howard, this is Shelvin Mack's team.  His shot making in the second half sealed it for Butler, even though VCU would have won if partial points were awarded when the ball makes it 78% of the way through the rim, but still spins out somehow.  This is a cruel business, and only one team gets to win its last game.  Farewell Rams.  You made this one of the most fun tournaments, and consequently bloody bracket pools, in memory.

Shaka looking subdued, but knowing that job offers are pouring in...

Leaderboad?

As we announced in the last post, there are no more points to be had in the bracket prediction contest, but not all of the prizes have been awarded.  How can this be?  Well, if you recall our last post there is currently a tie between Ben and Wilson2 for 2nd/3rd place.  The two parties have met and after extensive negotiations, they have decided to break the tie.  So, the set of four (4) left handed sporks is still looking for a home, and no hands have been shaken or backs patted just yet.  So, come get your Team Ben or Team Wilson2 t-shirts, and stay tuned to the final on Monday to find out who will place and who will show...then be euthanized on the track after coming up lame.   What?  Too soon?

This Barbaro gag brought to your by the fine folks at Deadspin