(Dec 29) Memphis – Arizona game going on right now, and after a great start, Arizona has flattened out. 18-31. As Dozier steps up for an easy three. 20-34. How much, is Jerryd Bayless crying inside?
He's Arizona’s point guard and leading scorer, and he’s currently sitting at the tail end of the bench, looking . . actually, very sharp. Bayless is wearing a black suit and blue tie, with a single earring on his left ear. But – the worst, worst thing in the world is for a world-class player like Bayless to have to sit out a big game, all because of an accident that just had to occur one day before. They land in Memphis, they see their friends, they practice – and boom, he’s hurt. He’s played every game all season, and suddenly he can’t move his knee. It just kills you. And it kills you even more, to see those keen eyes, look out with an expression that cannot be expressed. He cannot tell the world how sorry he is, how much he would give to be able to play right now. To be on the same court as Derrick Rose? To be able to lead his team to victory? That’s all he wants. That’s all he’s thought about since weeks and weeks ago.
As the game ends, Jerryd is walking glumly towards the line, ready to shake hands, ready to get the hell outta here. A potential blockbuster road win – gone. Before the game – oh! How he had fantasized! How he was gonna take the game to Rose, to have it be a showdown in the Heartland, the two top 10 guards pushing tempo and dictating pace and dishing out the superlatives while shooting right in each other’s faces all night! How much fun would that have been??? He’s heard the accolades for Rose, and he couldn’t wait, couldn’t wait to get out of the desert and into the limelight that will be shining on Memphis, on this perfect team that supposedly had all the talent to go all the way, undefeated, earning the overall #1 seed, and basically sleepwalk through the first rounds of the NCAAs while the rest of them slugged it out tooth and claw with their major-conference foes. UCLA? USC? Washington State? Yeah, all those were still waiting for him, but now, tonight, it was about Memphis. It was about youth and athleticism and redemption, about turning this program around that got ousted in the first 2 games of the post-season while Memphis went to double Elite Eights. We’re gonna be right there with you, bud. Heh, I hear you’re practicing how to stop me in your Friday session. Well, we’re practicing the same thing – how to stop Derrick Rose. Yo, Derrick! Can we play Madden in your souped-up 11-bedroom mansion after practice is over?
But now . . now was the worst. 2 hours of sitting stock-still in a chair at the end of the bench, forced to watch as Memphis slowly tore his Arizona team apart. They did well in the beginning – good ol’ Chase Budinger putting on a show. But oh . . the seams unraveled almost immediately afterwards. You can’t win road games without your starting point guard – you just can’t. Take a good look at Pitt. And how in the world did Wisconsin do it? Against, supposedly, the deadliest backcourt in the country in #9 Texas? Two ranked teams go into foreign territory without their starting point guards, for all or half the game . . and neither survives. #6 Pitt gets blown out by Dayton. And #17 Arizona . . well, did they ever have a chance?
Back to the line: Derrick has come up, taking both of his hands, leaning in so nobody else could hear – “You would’ve beaten me tonight. I had 6 turnovers! What would you have done to me?” He smiled, his award-winning smile. Jerryd couldn’t help but laugh. You would’ve made me have 6 turnovers, bro, he thought. But it would’ve gone down to the wire. It definitely would have. “You played a great game,” he said, wistfully, half-heartedly, grinning. “We should do it again sometime. Maybe in the NCAA final.” Derrick’s eyes lit up. “Oh yeah. Hell yeah.” People were shouting congratulations, and Derrick turned around momentarily. Then he turned back. “When do you leave?” “Tomorrow morning.” “Early?” “Yeah . . you know how it is.” “Right, right . . call me, ok?” “Sure.” “Hope you get better.” “Thanks.”
Then – redemption, the words he so longed to hear: “It just wasn’t the same without you. It would’ve been a ballgame, man.”
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