I couldn’t let it go. The desperate last three minutes of the 3 seed Gonzaga – 2 seed UCLA game, where UCLA hadn’t led for a single minute in the entire game and now, suddenly, they want it, they want it bad and you can see it in their heightened movements, in their leaps and cries and blocks, blazing down the court – stealing, feigning, passing – it is impossible, but he passes the ball to Luc, who flies to the net, one movement, the ball going with him, through him, into the net, and UCLA is ahead, ahead by one, 72-71! All pandemonium breaks loose. The fans are screaming, the announcers shaking to their feet, their voices: “Amazing!” “Impossible!” “Climbed a mountain!” The ball is knocked loose in mid-court and there’s a foul, on Gonzaga! 5 seconds left! UCLA is ahead, by 2! 73-71. Oh my lord . . and then it’s over. An absolute miracle! The desperate last ball by Gonzaga zings past the rim, and the buzzer is drowned out by the roar, the shocked adrenaline of a thousand fans, the UCLA boys, hysterical, and Gonzaga’s best player sprawled out on the floor, crying. The same scene had happened 3 hours earlier between 4 seed LSU and 1 seed Duke, when the National Player of the Year, J.J. Redick, couldn’t do a thing but watch the last game of his college career careen down the drain, losing 54-62, his eyes red with tears, trying to hold it in, desperately denying, holding the awful hurt of losing out of the NCAA. The look of what it’s like to lose in the Sweet 16.
And the astounding, heart-stopping bursts of courage and undeniability that can flood the court like hail when a team wins, when a team comes from such huge deficits that the announcers repeatedly questioned if they were even in the game (“if you can call trailing by 15 ‘being in the game’”). What they were thinking? Where had their defense gone? Last year, when Illinois came back from 15 points down with 4 minutes left - to win, incredibly - over Arizona, 90-89 in OT for the Final Four. This year, when UCLA routes Belmont, when they must struggle and gasp and finally win over Arizona, then seemed to be dazed by Gonzaga for the entire first 37 minutes of the round of 16. Do you really want it?? Do you have it in you to beat them??
It doesn’t matter about your seed, your history, your odds. UCLA found a way to play their best ball at the end, with such a closing kick that completely overwhelmed the Zags, deflated them, shook the ball out of their hands. Adam Morrison, double teamed and stuck in a corner, desperately lobs the ball across the length of the court, only to see it get stolen, passed like lightening downcourt, and slammed into the net within the blink of an eye. Luc Mbah a Moute, coming out of nowhere. Chasing the ball back upcourt, gets loose, somehow a foul is called for UCLA. One more point. How can that be? How can 73-71 define the stellar ball they played for the first 37 minutes?? But it’s the last three that counts. The last three that matters. Three points. Only one winner. Stunned. You can’t ever look back. You can’t stop time, you can’t slow down the clock, you can’t deny the fervor of this team trailing you, by 17, by 9, by 4, and from deep in their hearts they fight back, they have nothing to lose, and all of a sudden they are up by 1, and now it’s not you but they who have the adrenaline, the incredible pride, to finish it – to win. 73-71. The buzzer sounds. And the tears flood like rain.
That’s what nails it. The March Madness of the NCAA, the incredible passion of the fans following the teams, clutching their brackets, cheering, cursing, bragging, wincing, and grinning like its theirs, their alma mater, their region, even if its not. Texas sinking the 3 with no time left to deny a rallying West Virginia overtime, for a shot, just one more shot, at this. The incredible things that happen when something is on the line, that most enviable thing: Pride. Youth. Ability. When you’re 19, and you can play the game of your life. You don’t ever want to stop, until you get to the final game, the championship game, and you look them in the eye, and they might be No. 1, but you don’t care, not for the whole world. You, are given one shot, at immortality. Nobody else need apply – this, is the greatest sport in all the world.
And the astounding, heart-stopping bursts of courage and undeniability that can flood the court like hail when a team wins, when a team comes from such huge deficits that the announcers repeatedly questioned if they were even in the game (“if you can call trailing by 15 ‘being in the game’”). What they were thinking? Where had their defense gone? Last year, when Illinois came back from 15 points down with 4 minutes left - to win, incredibly - over Arizona, 90-89 in OT for the Final Four. This year, when UCLA routes Belmont, when they must struggle and gasp and finally win over Arizona, then seemed to be dazed by Gonzaga for the entire first 37 minutes of the round of 16. Do you really want it?? Do you have it in you to beat them??
It doesn’t matter about your seed, your history, your odds. UCLA found a way to play their best ball at the end, with such a closing kick that completely overwhelmed the Zags, deflated them, shook the ball out of their hands. Adam Morrison, double teamed and stuck in a corner, desperately lobs the ball across the length of the court, only to see it get stolen, passed like lightening downcourt, and slammed into the net within the blink of an eye. Luc Mbah a Moute, coming out of nowhere. Chasing the ball back upcourt, gets loose, somehow a foul is called for UCLA. One more point. How can that be? How can 73-71 define the stellar ball they played for the first 37 minutes?? But it’s the last three that counts. The last three that matters. Three points. Only one winner. Stunned. You can’t ever look back. You can’t stop time, you can’t slow down the clock, you can’t deny the fervor of this team trailing you, by 17, by 9, by 4, and from deep in their hearts they fight back, they have nothing to lose, and all of a sudden they are up by 1, and now it’s not you but they who have the adrenaline, the incredible pride, to finish it – to win. 73-71. The buzzer sounds. And the tears flood like rain.
That’s what nails it. The March Madness of the NCAA, the incredible passion of the fans following the teams, clutching their brackets, cheering, cursing, bragging, wincing, and grinning like its theirs, their alma mater, their region, even if its not. Texas sinking the 3 with no time left to deny a rallying West Virginia overtime, for a shot, just one more shot, at this. The incredible things that happen when something is on the line, that most enviable thing: Pride. Youth. Ability. When you’re 19, and you can play the game of your life. You don’t ever want to stop, until you get to the final game, the championship game, and you look them in the eye, and they might be No. 1, but you don’t care, not for the whole world. You, are given one shot, at immortality. Nobody else need apply – this, is the greatest sport in all the world.
