For those of us who felt disinclined to waste more than 5 minutes watching the noon-'til-midnight clankfest which is a so-called "championship weak," there were ways to counter-act those feelings of, ummmm ... "disinclination."
That's right ... "he shoots, he scores!"
Ain't nuthin' quite like a stop-off at the shooting range ... a side trip to cozy up to a sidearm.
It's how the non-NBA/non-NFL sector of America gets its handgun schwerve on -- by squeezing off several rounds of .22- and .45-caliber bullets at a paper target (as opposed to poppin' a cap in yo' ass on duh street, all y'all).
When it's your first time engaged in such an activity, it makes ya feel good about your chances the next time you have to draw with the gangstuhs who killed Tank Johnson's bodyguard or the bad-asses who are tight w/ the Pac Man.
The most important less learned today was: For a first-timer, it's not about arranging your shots so that the holes in the target form two eyes, a nose and a smiley face.
It's about focusing on the "grouping."
And, the rookie received high marks (sort of).
He was representin' (kind of).
One common mistake most shooters make: Deckin' out yo' bad self in a Florida Panthers hockey jersey, low-ridin', baggy jeans and a powder-blue Yankees cap worn all cockeyed n' shit, ya'll.
Anyway, as any SuperFly will tell ya, it's a lot more fun to be all hands-on during the gunnin' than to watch others gun.
Especially when that somebody else is mega-gunner Colin Falls or mini-gunner Russell Carter (take yer pick) of Notre Shame.
Those guys are so small-caliber.
It's like that scene when that scraggly bounty hunter with no right arm (because Tuco shot him there in the opening scene) burst in as Tuco was enjoying a bath.
With his gun poised on Tuco, the ol' scruffy fella said, "I've been looking for you for eight months. Whenever I shoulda had a gun in my right hand, I thought of you. Now I find you in a position that suits me. And I had lots of time to learn how to shoot with my left ..." (BLAM! BLAM! BLAM!)
Tuco had his pistol hidden under the suds ... and he shot the enemy gunman, who stumbled into the next room.
Rising up from the tub, with suds still covering his body, Tuco peered over the double-doors and fired a final shot into the slumped-over gunman.
Tuco: "When you have to shoot, shoot ... don't talk."
Of course, the scene gets better when Blondie shows up.
"Put on your clothes and take off your gun."
Naturally, Blondie and Tuco team up to gun down all of Angel Eyes' posse, but Angel Eyes flees and leaves a note, which Tuco, an illiterate, begins to read.
Tuco: "See you later, iddy ... iddy ... " (hands the paper to Blondie)
Blondie: "Idiots ..." (hands paper to Tuco) "It's for you."
Cue Ennio Morricone music.
Wait ... we were 'sposed to be talkin' shooters, right?
Well, since the lesson for today is establishing the difference between "taking the shot" and "actually hitting the target," let's go ahead and dock Colin and Russell for "bad grouping."
Notre Shame's 84-82 loss to Georgeclown in the Big East semis tonight was a painful experience for the Farting Irish.
When Carter hit his fourth 3-ball (in five tries), ND was up 35-21 with 7:38 remaining in the first half.
When Falls sank his third 3-ball (in four tries), ND led 40-28 with 4:52 to play until intermission -- and ND had hit 8 of 12 trifecters.
Carter and Falls each buried a trey within the first four minutes of the second half and ND was up, 59-55.
ND's next 10 attempts from beyond the arc went like this:
1) Carter missed a 3 with 14:29 to play
2) Falls missed a 3 with 12:23 to go
3) Carter missed a 3 at 9:31
4) Falls missed a 3 at 9:00
5) Carter missed a 3 at 6:13
6) Kurz missed a 3 at 2:22 (when it was 78-78)
7) Zeller missed a 3 at 1:40 (with ND down, 80-78)
8) Falls missed a 3 at 1:04 (with ND down, 82-79)
9) Carter missed a 3 at :58 (with ND down, 82-79)
10) Carter missed a 3 with :06 to play (with ND down, 84-82)
Ya gotta love a team which goes 0-10 on 3-balls during the final 16:04 -- particularly when stiffs like Kurz and Zeller are shootin' the rock during crunch time.
It goes to show what an incredible coach Mike Brey is ... the way that he doesn't interfere with the "flow" of his team during pivotal moments.
Mike Brey is too classy to mess with Zeller's head by saying, "Listen to me, you worthless stiff. Y'see that little old lady with the walking cane over by the concession stand? She could have a popcorn in one hand, her cane in the other and she'd still drain a 20-footer more often than you. And she has glaucoma, so she can't really see the basket."
No, Brey is such a good coach that, during each timeout, he tells his team, "Do whatever you want out there. Score some points, okay? Make your parents proud."
It's too bad that Golden Domers don't have someone to prod Falls and Carter into being so one-dimensional -- but for us anti-Domers, it gives us something fun to discuss.
It's almost too easy to heckle Colin Falls with, "Hey, mix in an offensive rebound! Try passing the ball to someone cutting to the basket! Ever thought about playin' D?"
If that 3-point stripe was removed from basketball floors nationwide, people like Colin Falls would be going to class at Notre Shame and then making himself useful by taking your order at Blimpie.
Ditto for Alex Ruoff of the Wuss Virginia Meltdowneers. Since Ruoff knocked down 6 of 9 three-balls at Duquesne on Dec. 9, he's been dogged by some perimeter-game road woes.
1 of 4 at ND ... 0 of 4 at Marquette ... 4 of 11 at Cincy ... 1 of 2 at Rutgers ... 0 of 3 at Seton Hall ... 1 of 4 at Georgeclown ... 1 of 4 at Providence ... 2 of 8 at Pitt ...
Although Ruoff canned 5 of 9 in MSG two nights ago, he was 1 of 6 vs. Lousyville last night.
Actually, the Meltdowneers were 7 of 31 on threes (Lousyville was 6 of 25) -- and what hurts most is that sophomore Joe Alexander couldn't bail out his struggling teammate.
Joe was 5 of 31 on 3-balls in Feb. ... 1 of 7 in March.
Again, this demonstrates how John Beilein is a super coach, just like Brey. Beilein doesn't get inside his player's head and chide him for being a 16 percent 3-point shooter.
More likely, John encourages his shitty-ass perimeter shooter with, "Hang in there, big fella. Keep shootin'. Didja know that if you miss 20 of your next 24 three-pointers, your 3-point percentage for February and March will rise from 15.78 to 16.13 percent? Bloom, you delicate flower ... bloom!"
Likewise, it's a damn shame about Harvey Hale. He got some major props last night when he scored all 22 of his points (including 5 of 6 on trifecters) in the first and second OT of Wake's 115-112 win over G-Tech.
Last night's game was an ACC tourney first-rounder at the St. Pete Times Forum -- and, going into the contest, Hale was 12 of 41 on 3-balls in games outside of Winston-Salem.
Whether or not Harvey Hale was smoking too many Winstons or too many Salems concerns us not because all that matters is that Harvey Hale returned to earth tonight against Va-Tech -- 0 of 4 on 3-balls, 5 points.
With a 15-16 record, Wake won't be in the postseason -- which sucks the big wazoo because now we'll never know if Harvey Hale was going to GO OFF for 47 points or 1 point in the Deacs' next game.
It appears as though Harv will spend the next month playing with himself.
HOLD THE PHONE! One of this Planet's favorite gunners made the news tonight.
Roderick Wilmont was 1 of 5 on 3-balls (0 of 1 on 2-balls) the first time that IU played UBCI (the University of he Banned Chief Illiniwek) -- and, he definitely found his stroke tonight against the Illiniweks, going 0 of 7 on 3-balls (0 of 3 on 2-balls).
It's all in a night's work for the team which went 16-0 in Bloomington; 4-9 away from B-Town.
In other Hooters' news, probably no one noticed how D.J. White came within a whisker of achieving a very rare "septuple double" (14 pts., 13 rebs., 3 blocked shots, 0 assists, 5 turnovers, 4 personal fouls).
According to the rule book, the septuple double is official only when a player achieves double-digits in turnovers while compiling zero assists.
And, as per our O'Reilly Auto Parts Team from Lubbock and its HCD ("head coach designate" = Pat Knight), well ... it's hard to argue with that 17-of-53 effort from the floor as seven different guys attempted 3's (only two players on the team have 20-foot range) in a 66-45 loss to K-State.
O'Reilly Auto Parts was out-rebounded, 35-22 -- and, back in the day, the Head Coach Designate's daddy used to get furious any time that his team got outrebounded because it was a reflection on the head coach and the assistants for not emphasizing the value of boxing out, boxing out, boxing out and boxing out.
Head Case Designate's papa used to get all filled with rage when his team got outworked -- but, that was "back in the day" ... back in a time when Knight woulda chastized K-State head coach Bob Huggins (when he was at Cinshitnati) for having a player graduation rate of 0.00000 percent.
These days, all the TV cameras show is Bob and Bob snuggling before the game, exchanging giggles and delightful anecdotes.
Meanwhile, as Head Case Designate is losing control of the basketball program at a football university, Dad is dusting off the classic Playboy speech.
KNIGHT (bangs the center of the steering wheel with his fist): "Jesus Christ! This is bullshit! I'm not here for a fucking inquisition! And if that's what this is, then get the fuck out and hitchhike back home! The fucking stepfather was a fucking goddamn fucking asshole from the word goddamn go. He fucking lied and he lied and he lied! Jesus Christ! I mean, this is my fucking life we're talking about! My fucking heart was ripped out by this goddamn bullshit!"
THAT Bob was a funner Bob.
Good thing America doesn't take its shooting lessons from him.
"Sub-standard grouping" ...