On Monday night, I believe I watched the perfect college basketball game.
True, there were no buzzer beaters, and Bruce Weber's Dumb and Dumber tux jacket had me running for the nearest wastebasket, but I don't think the NCAA Final had seen a game or a match up of heavyweights like this in some time. Actually, I know it hadn't. This was the first meeting in the championship game of the No. 1 and 2 teams in the country since UCLA-Kentucky in 1975.
There may have been more drama in the Arizona-Illinois game, and every time West Virginia took the floor viewers were in for a treat. I'd also be remiss if I didn't mention Patrick "Bubba" Sparks taking Michigan State to overtime with his prayer/shooter's roll.
But what unraveled in St. Louis on Monday will not soon be forgotten. There was certainly buildup for this, but it was two days worth of buildup followed by a product that, by all accounts, delivered the goods. The same can't be said of, say, the Oklahoma-USC Orange Bowl game, one which came emblazoned with a "CAN'T MISS" label after over a month of anticipation but left us wanting hours of our life back when it was over.
I knew this one would be special when Air Jordan himself was walking through the bowels of the Edward Jones Dome with a Jumbo blue (yeah I said it) jumpsuit on. Where Michael goes, cool things follow (speaking of which: How good of a recruiting tool is Jordan? By my accounts, UNC can never have a down year with his name attached to the school. All I'm saying is that, for any high-schooler, the prospect of going to any other school goes out the window with one two-minute cell phone call from The Best Player in Basketball History.)
So even from before the game, and right to the finish, Tarheels-Illini had me, and I'm sure most of you, enthralled. Yes, to those of you who may have heard, my interest may have had something to do with my pool money being on the line (I won!). But a pool isn't real gambling to me. If UNC had lost, there goes 10 bucks, too bad, get 'em next year. I wasn't in Teddy KGB's basement putting my mortgage on the table or anything. But victory would be a big cash in, so for someone who doesn't put money on sports often, it kind of had a "Man, this is easy, why don't I do this all the time?" feel.
Quasi-gambling aside, what made this game so special was that any time I thought one team might have this thing in the bag, the other made a run. Check that, whenever UNC just manhandled Illinois down low or on the fast break for two minutes, Illinois would be sure to hit some big shots of their own. It was uncanny. Any other team in the final with UNC would have lost by 15. I am completely and utterly convinced of this. Illini fans (this means you, Matt Malone and Pete, an Illinois student who was my roomie in Ireland) should take consolation in knowing that this tournament, this college basketball season, among some 300-plus teams in the country, there were two that were head and shoulders above the rest. I will not argue this.
I know how hard it is to watch your team play an instant classic, fall short, and then have to hear how great a game they had, season they had, blah blah blah. Aaron Boone assured me of this. If the game was so great, my team would have won, right? It's a tough pill to swallow, but there were so many times during that game that most teams would not have had the guts to come back strong. UNC came out of the gates up 9-2, and what does Illinois do? They go on a 10-0 run of their own to take the lead, without even blinking. Teams that have had leads all year usually don't know what to do in these situations except sulk, but in the Arizona game and this one, they proved that they were pretty good at playing the role of cardiac kids, too.
And the star power in this game, my God. By my count, there were eight future draft picks playing in this game. Both these teams were championship caliber, right until the final horn sounded. Yes, James Augustine laid an egg worthy of induction into the Hall of Shame (nine minutes, zero points, two rebounds, five fouls). But I had the feeling that nobody, orange or otherwise, was getting in Sean May's way on Monday night. A man that big dunking on fast breaks is both a thing of beauty and an unstoppable occurrence.
Also, the whole Roy Williams getting his first title thing is a nice little story that the media can finally (hopefully) put to bed. But coaches are not why I watch hoops. Their faces may be that of the program, but without this cast of players, UNC goes home empty.
As do I.
