The Pool Dominatrix

Apparently, not only does UCLA win ugly, they lose really ugly. I mean, wow. I mean, how unawesome was that? I'm more agitated about last night's game than inspired to write my usual literary post glorifying college basketball and this tournament so here are just some choppy observations:

* When did Rick Patino join the Soprano's cast? Even his wife could be a Carmela stand in.

* Did UCLA coach Ben Howland really think it was beneficial to play wild freshman guard Darren Collison 21 long minutes? My heart froze up every time this kid touched the ball. It was 21 minutes of him dribbling around frantically with a one-track mind to either shoot (three defenders be damned!) or turn over the ball. Zero points and one million turn overs in 21 minutes. That's great. P.S. Doesn't he look like Tracy Chapman without the dreads?

* Did you see Florida center Joakim Noah blow a kiss to the UCLA cheerleaders? He said in an interview that they were heckling him relentlessly, but I think he was weighing his options for the night; lining stuff up right there mid-game. Here's a picture of him lining up more ass as he cuts down the nets. I suggested that he might also be arranging something for his dad Yannick, but from how well Yannick has aged, I don't think he has a problem in that category.

* Cameroon should have a great national team for the upcoming Olympics.

* Are the tattoos of college hoops players getting better or worse? Hint: More does not equate to better. As a tattoo enthusiast, I appreciate body art more than the average person, but 98% of these kids might want to slow their sprint to Mickey's Tattoo Parlor. Maybe they should sleep on their ideas for a few months first. "I'll just get the basketball with the tribal barbed wire please." Mickey: "You mean, the number 8 college hoops special?"

I was going to bag on Jordan Farmar's tattoo, but it's a sentimental gesture to his little sister, an up and coming baller herself, so as badly as I want to say something, I'll leave it alone. Ok, just this one thing: As sweet as this is, it seems that at 19 when Farmar gets a tat that reads "Just the Two of Us" he wasn't really thinking about the possibility of meeting someone else during his lifetime. A significant other? Kids of his own maybe? Will he cross it out and put "I mean, Just the Four of Us"?

* A half-hour before the NCAA championship game, UCLA coach Ben Howland gathered his team together to tell his players that John Wooden was in the hospital. He told them that the 95-year-old Hall of Fame coach was going to be fine. He gave them the ol' Let's Do It For Wooden speech. Didn't this timely hospital visit feel a little staged; like Wooden himself planned this? Nice try, Gipper!

* Must I mention Billy Donovan's Eddie Munster peak? I wasn't gonna do it! But it's like that mole on Fred Savage's face in Austin Powers 8 or whichever one . . . I look at Billy's head and all I think of is Peak . . . peakiepeakiepeakiepeakie peak.

Enough! Enough of this underwhelming post about an underwhelming finals. Congratulations to Doreen for her dramatic come-from-behind performance to clinch first place in the 2006 Chez Danette March Madness pool. And congratulations to Gotonepicright! for second.

It has been fun, as always, and I'm already suffering withdrawals,
The Pool Domi

How well one does in this March Madness pool, especially the Chez Danette pool, often times turns into a test of loyalties: Loyalty to one's instincts and loyalty to one's personal connection to a particular school. Even if your loyalty only pays off once in a lifetime. Take pooler PhiSlammaJamma who once called himself The Cuse, as in Syracuse. Syracuse is his alma mater and the year Syracuse won the tournament with Carmelo Anthony, he didn't pick them to go all the way. The Cuse did not pick The Cuse. In shame, he has subsequently changed his name.

Take Big Bad Puerto Rican Papa this year: Immediately after Selection Sunday, his initial bracket predicted Florida as the 2006 NCAA champs. I told him I couldn't wait to write about that because I thought the pick was genius. No one else in the pool had Florida going all the way. He said, "Wait, wait, wait . . .don't write that yet. Billy Donovan tends to choke in the early rounds." I said, "You're not going to change it are you? And go against crazy Ghetto France, Joakim Noah? It's such a great pick." He said, "Let me just erase Florida here and write in Ohio State. Yea, that's better." Needless to say, he's been kicking himself ever since for not staying loyal to his initial instincts, if only to root on the former 80's tennis great Yannick Noah's son. BBPP laments every round saying, "I hope Florida wins the whole thing just so I can tell every one what a dick I am."

And finally, the 2006 Primo Example of Disloyalty: Do you know where I was born? UCLA Medical Center. I grew up running around Westwood. I even bumped into Reggie Miller once, when he was a UCLA student-star, on corner of Westwood and Linbrook. He was wearing a trench coat, a newsboy cap and black eyeliner – hey, it was the 80's. I went to UCLA basketball camp at the vulnerable age of thirteen. I've sat at Pauley Pavilion many times doing the 8 Clap. My husband and I saw Cedic Bozman play in 11th grade when the Mater Dei/Capo Valley high school rivalry was at its sickest. So, how in the hell did I jump on the odd Adam Morrison bandwagon? I was blinded by his heart and quirkiness ignoring the fact that he didn't have enough team support. How did I forsake my hometown school, UCLA?? A team that has ducked under the true-contender radar pre tournament and even during? A team that is dead set on dragging defense back into the game of basketball. A team that clicks with tenacious chemistry and wins no matter how ugly it looks. Where is my loyalty??

Tonight's final will be interesting. I believe Florida will try to control the game early. I believe UCLA will adjust to Florida's style and then contain them within their swarmy, scrappy realms. But if UCLA can't figure out how to score, it won't matter. The end score will be something like 28-10, which sounds really fun to watch.

Here's the deal with the pool: Out of the blue, "Doreen" shot herself into first place because she picked Florida to go to the finals. She had Texas winning the whole thing so she has no way of earning more points. It's the same with Gotonepickright who also picked Florida in the final game. He has no chance of earning more points either, but he could win second place. The only way Doreen and Gotone are getting knocked off is if UCLA wins tonight and that means Quan, Baby! and Mr. Clutch catapult themselves into first and second place respectively.

It's been a wild, fun ride so far.
Commencing 8 Clap now,
Pool Domi

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.

Let's start with some history . . .On the women's side of the bracket, Candace Parker became the first woman in history to dunk in a NCAA tournament game. And she did it twice today. The first time she dunked ON somebody. The second time, she drove the base line and -- not exactly tomohawked it -- but dunked it nonetheless. The dunk is definitely a slow-coming phenomena in the history of women's basketball though not really a new one. In 1982 my high school idle, Cheryl Miller, was the first woman to dunk a basketball during a regulation game in the same game she scored a national high-school record of 105 points. Georgeann Wells Blackwell was the first woman to dunk in a NCAA game in 1984. And in 2002, Lisa Leslie dunked first in a women's pro game. Maybe in ten more years, two women will dunk in one game . . .or in twenty years, a female slamdunk contest. Hey, I appreciate the milestones no matter how slowly they manifest. It sure the hell beats the women's ball I played in high school where we tried to bore opponents into submission with fundamental chest passes and yawnsville set shots.

On to the wacky men's side. How about those Shockers in the Sweet 16? No, seriously, the seventh seed Wichita State Shockers upset "number 2" Tennessee to advance. A couple of you poolers picked Wichita, impressively, though I personally wanted to see coach Bruce Pearl of Tennessee sweat it out for as long as possible. Did Pearl have gland replacement before the tournament because he hasn't perspired a drop since the infamous Drenched Grey Suit Fiasco against Florida a few weeks ago. What was up with that? Was he just wrapped in cellophane under his clothes that particular day?

George Mason! George Mason, yo! Taking down defending champ North Carolina as Roy Williams had a conniption on the side line. As much as the Hoftra camp believes they should've been in the tourney because they beat George Mason twice in ten days pre March, the reality is that Hoftra most likely would not have made the sweet 16 as decisively as GM did over NC. GM was scrappy and defensively strong. When they were down by 16 they didn't panic; they forced turnovers and took that game right out of the hands of NC.

Did you know the Bradley Braves have made it to a NCAA basketball championship final game before? Yup. And they lost to LaSalle . . . in 1954. So, we won't exactly say it was experience that got them to the Sweet 16 this last weekend. Bradley advanced because of seven foot sophomore center Patrick O'Bryant and his phenomenal performance. He scored 28 points, making 10 out of 17 shots, and he dominated the key.

I've never been a Kentucky Wildcat fan, but I'll root fiercely for the underdog even it is KY. Especially after Patrick Sparks limped onto the floor looking like an arthritic plummer. This guy cracked me up. Haven't I seen him at weekend pick up games down at the park donning a headband and knee braces? Mr. Plummer's career high 28 points nearly took down UConn, but Marcus Williams and the Huskies were too tough though UConn looks completely beatable.

Exactly how many teams are named the Wildcats? All of them? And how many guys are named Marcus Williams? Marcus Williams was high scorer for the Arizona Wildcats that nearly took down the Villanova . . .Wildcats, but late game offensive rebounds stopped that from happening.

Now that the Sweet 16 bracket is set -- and hopefully about to spark off another round of craziness -- pooler BEDELE is in first place looking pretty good with his Georgetown final four pick and UConn all the way. Eagles 4 Real in second right now with a Boston College winner, which I'm diggin'. Yogi is leading the Duke contingent and Doclauer is leading the Villanova pack. The odd ball winning picks like Memphis, Texas, UCLA and (ahem) GONZAGA! still have a legitimate chance to win this pool too. I tried to figure out Who could win How, but after a while my brain hurt from Rubik's Cubing every single possbile scenerio. Still too many to tell, which means this thing is still wide open.

Thursday night's match up, Gonzaga vs. UCLA, will be a barn burner at our house as Big Bad Puerto Rican Papa and I will go head to head. He has UCLA to win the entire thing, and we all know I have Gonzaga meaning this week one of our brackets will be mortally busted. We're going to make our daughters choose sides, and then our dogs. There may be some family face painting. BRING IT, PAPA.

Oh, still so much fun ahead.

Today, quite a few underdogs confidently grabbed leads like they were true contenders. But also like one grabs a handful of sand. The leads slipped away right before all our eyes, like they were sitting on a greased pole.

I tell this story every year only because it's so applicable, but I liken these ballsy underdog leads to when I was twelve years old and I borrowed a heavy, glass blender from a next-door neighbor. After retrieving the blender at my mother's request, I walked back to my apartment. Ten feet from my door, the large pitcher of the blender teetered out of its base and flipped forward. I snatched at it with my right hand and it spun left. I cupped it with my left hand and it somersaulted back up. I juggled and batted and fumbled that damn blender for at least a minute before it fell -- in the slowest of motion -- and shattered in a million pieces on my front stoop. With the adrenaline pumping in my ears and while looking at the glass shards, I thought, "I was so close. I almost had it." The point is, I was Murray State and the blender was the lead over North Carolina. I was Penn and the blender the narrow lead over Texas; UAB's lead over Kentucky, and most lamentable, 16th seed Albany's run against UConn that almost made history. After a 13 point lead, Albany tossed their blender off a skyscraper where it then busted into powder. And I'm sure they and Davidson and the Northern Iowa thought to themselves with adrenaline in their ears after the shattering sound of the ending buzzer, "I was so close. I almost had it." A couple of teams were lucky enough to catch the blender and hold on to it: Bradley over Kansas! NC State over brain fartin' Cal. George Mason over MSU! And Northwestern's Jermaine Wallace took the blender and threw it in the basket from behind the three point line with only five tenths of second on the clock crushing #3 seed Iowa's dance dreams.

As for the pool, I can see you all shaking in your boots. The blender is a fragile and elusive thing. Enjoy it will you can. If your pool was shattered today, stay engaged; more great games are sure to come, as well as the joy of watching other pooler's brackets go down in a blaze.

Obviously the addiction to this tournament is about the upsets and the miracles that these kids are able to pull off at the most clutch times. Never am I disappointed by this, and I thank you again Chris Lofton of Tennessee. But what tends to lend equally to the excitement of these games are the anti-clutch moments and the just plain brain farts.

The blunders and the deflation of play are no where near as enjoyable as, say, a luscious buzzer beater, but I have to say I do like the dimension they add to the drama of the day. The mistakes tend to make me a little queasy and embarrassed for a poor teenager expected to carry the entire weight of our couch-potato hoop dreams, but don't you can kinda feel better about yourself when you can yell at the TV: "HOW ON EARTH DID YOU JUST FOUL THAT KID ON A THREE POINTER WITH 11 SECONDS TO GO AND YOU'RE DOWN BY TWO??" I love when we add phrases like, "Even I know not to do that." "My six year old has better sense." "My dog Lupe wouldn't've fouled, jeez!" But seriously, what was that UNC Wilmington kid thinking fouling GW's Carl Elliott? Elliott stepped to the line as a 67% free throw shooter and calmly channeled some Clutch Money god and tied the game that sent them into overtime and GW never looked back. But this is what I mean: It takes brain farts AND clutch money performances to add to the gorgeous, three dimensional drama of the tournament.

San Diego? Brain fartin'. Boston College? Almost brain farted A LOT of you right out of the pool. Seton Hall? Laid down like a submissive dog without even a whimperous fart.



Since it's St. Patrick's Day, I won't murder Syracuse and Gerry McNamara and his zero field goals and the five seed gas. I mean the kid had to be Mad Clutch Money four days in a row to win the now-looking Small East tournament. I also don't want to talk mess on Gerry for fear that coach Jim Boeheim may stomp me. I know Coach, Not 10 beeping games would you have won without Gerry. . .dang.








Speaking of mad clutch, did you see my man Adam Morrison? Towards the end of the fourth quarter after the Zags trailed by as many as nine points, Adam was like Ok, that's enough, and he became of flurry of hair and shoulders; pulling up, rebounding, dishing the ball. You know what I love most about him? Not the moustache, not the hair -- though all awesome -- it's that he's crazy. How intense is this guy? Slapping his head with his hand and ball. And was he talking calm shit out there? Did you see that? On the free throw line, after each play, just talking to the Xavier guys, kinda friendly, kinda deadpan. What's he doing in that picture below? The Xavier guy doesn't really know either. The Xavier guy looks bewildered like, get off me Chico, or are you my friend, Chico? Crazy. And I love it. I suppose Adam has to employ mental mind tricks too because I wasn't kidding when I said he'll have to carry the team to victory this whole tournament. They're gonna give me a heart attach each game I can feel it.

On to more brain farts and clutch madness today!

The pool standings -- god, I dunno. So inconsequential right now. But isn't it fun?

The Commish

Every college hoops analyst assesses the upcoming games this way: If Such N Such team can execute their strengths . . .if they can stay on their hot streak . . .if they don't allow the other team to score AS MANY POINTS AS THEM. . . I mean, DUH -- but what they're basically saying is, I have no freaking idea what's about to happen in a few hours. So, the theme of this year's tournament is Any Given Game. Any given game, any given team is either brilliant or they stumble.

Which is why I love the diversity with which you guys are picking this year. Ok, so the majority of the pool is going with either UConn or Duke to take it all (yawn), but we have a few mavericks willing to gamble with an underdog champ. We've got Cheektowaga Champz boldly riding streaky Syracuse all the way. El Gato del Oro has Ohio State winning it all. BG2 is going with Memphis. There are also a few wildly underdoggish picks scattered throughout the pool that ride the fine line of genius and idiotic. But I'll tell ya, I'm kinda hoping that 3 Point Violator errs this side of genius with his San Diego State final four pick. Glowbug is thinking West Virginia will Pittsnogle their way to the final four. Schlomo and Hoftra's Hope have Iowa going to the final four over Duke. Oh, I have that pick too because those of you that know me, know that I love a legitimate (or not) cinderella. With that said, I was the only one willing to put money on Gonzaga all the way. I have an intuition that Adam Morrisson -- or as I like to call him Chico from Chico and The Man -- will have a SICK tournament; he'll carry the Zags on his Kevin McKale-like shoulders to a championship . . .and then he'll leave for the draft early and have a mediocre NBA career while J.J. Redick -- who puts the dick in Redick -- will clank his way through this tournament but go on to have a decently successful NBA career coming off of picks and shooting 25 footers for a living. But that's from where I'm standing.

And for my absolute favorite pick of the pool: TMurph's well-thought out Oral Roberts pick over Memphis. Lord, make it so!

Wait, sshhh, can't you feel it? The magic that is the madness? Me too.
Let's Do This.
The Commish