The Pool Dominatrix

I'm crying over the Gonzaga loss; a freakish, bare-your-teeth, Frankenstein-type cry. An Adam Morrison-type cry. I'm wiping off the big "G" I had strategically painted on my face as I cry growling Morrison tears -- not the soft, wipe-away-with-your-ring-finger Redick-type tears -- but tear-away at your clothes, throw-yourself-onto-center-court, exhausted-from-carrying-a-team-and-believing-so-hard type tears. However, Adam's tears were also laced with a little bitterness considering that game was the last time he will be the best of his peers. Welcome to the NBA, son. Here's your hankie.

In all reality I knew during the first half -- five minutes into the game even -- as it started to look like a virtual blow out against a disheveled and brick-laying UCLA, that this was not going to be good. Even as the Zags were up by double-digits, I slid off my I Heart Adam hat and waited for the inevitable. Even as they took a seventeen-point lead, I knew the Gonzaga Bulldogs and I were doomed.

There are certain staples written in the script of the NCAA Final 64 tournament. They are; the ironic inevitability of unpredictability, impossible-to-guess upsets, soul-satisfying buzzer beaters, random players that rise like cream to greatness (if only for the tournament), AND teams that lose a 17-point lead and lose the game in the last seconds. When the announcer stated mid-second half that UCLA had never led in the game, I knew they'd win. I am of the belief that an early, large lead is a curse. I didn't necessarily see Gonzaga get lazy with the lead, but the subconscious pressure of possibility takes over too early. Then the fumbling begins. UCLA may have never found their groove within the forty minutes of play. They might not have been able to pull up their field goal percentage which was off by as many as twenty percentage points. They may have never been able to remember how defensively strong they are typically. But in the last three minutes of the game, they remembered, and possibility was ripped out of J.P. Batista's hands as he lamely waited for a foul call.

Every year, I always ride a Golden Boy and create a Bad Guy of the tournament. Last night, they both went down in a meltdown of tears. Both are touted as the top players in college hoops today; both are believed to go one and two in the NBA draft; both were ousted by the heart and determination of their opponents. And much to everyone's surprise, I will not rip JJ Redick today. Nope. I will not call him a cry baby or a loser -- none of that. I tend not to like a player when they are hyped to the stratosphere, when they talk too much shit . . . for any number of fabricated characteristics that I pin on a player, but when I see the accumulation of one kid's basketball career fizzle in a Sweet 16 loss as he is about to become a small fish in a big, greedy, primadona NBA pond, I feel empathy for the tears. I hear enthusiasts yell Crying all the way to the NBA bank! But the stars of this sport have worked hard to develop a brilliant college career. Anyone at the top of their game --whatever that is -- deserves to get paid for it. College stars have been making the NCAA billions of dollars, and they have been entertaining us for "free" (kinda) for years. The tears of Redick and Morrison and Pittsnoggle are just the manifestation of the reality that we non-stars face in our normal every day lives: that for as hard as you work, you can still fall short of victory. Cry on, boys. I hear you.

Here are some other observations of the night:

1. I'm so feeling the LSU squad. It's like a feel-good TV movie where an underdog young basketball team carries the hope of a state devastated by Katrina. They may make it on that sentiment alone. Baby Shaq aka Big Baby aka Glen Davis is the real deal and his offensive rebounds after Duke tried to implement the Hack-a-Baby-Shaq last night were phenomenal.

2. How many times must we endure the tight camera shots of the coaches’ wives. The constant toggling back and forth between the coach's mug to a younger, pretty wife sporting a HUGE diamond is an obvious gesture by the networks saying, Look what this guy landed.

3. Didn't you feel like you got two buzzer beaters in one at the end of the Texas/West Virginia game? Heartbreaking and thrilling all rolled into one!

4. I love when all the announcers talk about how strong Memphis is when they've handled, oh, a 16 seed, a 13 seed and a 9 seed. I hope UCLA kicks their ass.

5. I'm kind of stunned by the number of exceptionally talented freshman and sophomores on a lot of teams. Boy, are we in for years of great ball ahead.

As far as the pool, I want to congratulate JMuto, Gotonepicright (you sure did) and Boone for the LSU final four pick! And I want to say farewell the billion Duke riders. We'll see you next year, I'm sure.

Tonight, the crying continues.