Another Dousing Of GatorRaid

The past three days served as somewhat of a showcase of the offbeat for those participating in Frickin' Four contests ... yet, through it all -- from a series of bizarre games on Sat. and Sun. -- we can rest easy on this Monday for two reasons.
A) The team which displayed the best "togetherness" won it all
B) Dickie V ain't no Hall of Famer, as today's announcement of the recent vote indicated

March Meekness spilled meekly into April with an offbeat weekend of action -- however, not all of us will commit to making a 3-day session a 4-day affair by visiting the women's NCAA title game tomorrow night because that would require diverting our attention away from the season premier of "The Shield."
Essence and Epiphany may believe that they've got enough game to draw us away from Mackey's vigilant hunt for Lem's killer, but, c'mon ...
The only bait we'd take (in this case) might be an offer of a free Triple Prime Burger from Ruby Tuesday.
Or maybe a few hours engaged in Tom Clancy's "Ghost Recon."
Or possibly a date with that green-eyed, pink-haired minx from the Esurance TV ads.

In the end, though, America spent a few weekends learning the difference between a 3-point shooter and a 3-point maker -- and, for those who are about to die, we salute you, Lee Humphrey.
Despite the Hump's knack for knocking down the 3-ball, it seems as though every team allowed weirdness to creep into the mix.
True, the Gator Raid against the Blackeyes was routine enough -- but Fla. began its win over UCLA two nights earlier by going 0-of-7 on 3-balls and didn't bother attempting a 2-point shot until sometime near the midpoint of the first half.
And, from there, the Gators were 15 of 23 on their 2-pointers.

Sure, it was bizarre -- but not any more odd (and annoying) as Billy Packer -- for the second year in a row -- referring to the Fla. coach as "Dunivin."

With what transpired Saturday, America needed a refreshing Monday night championship to scrape away some of the algae and rust which had gathered two nights earlier.
Actually, make that "Saturday AND Sunday night," just in case anyone bothered to score a b-ball fix last night.

That was a bad batch of meth, that's for sure as the Rutgals from Rutgers -- led by Essence Carson and Epiphany Prince (the chick who scored 113 points in a high school game last season) -- went 10 of 22 on 3-balls and 10 of 32 on two-pointers ... crappy shooting, but good enough for a 24-point thrashing of LSU.
The Tenn. chicks "earned" their way into the final by shooting 27 percent and committing 21 turnovers (UNC outdid the Vols dolls by committing 29 turnovers).

Not exactly a Final Fur (not a typo) showdown like the one which began this millennium -- the showcase showdown between Southwest Missiouri State's Jackie Stiles (the Pistol With A Ponytail and her 30 PPG) and Purdue's Ukari Figgs.

The b-ball punch bowl was irreversibly spiked late, late, late last night when the Winter X Games Network gave us a styrofoam cup filled with a completely-lacking-in-context-or-timeliness feature on Bob Knight, head coach of Team O'Reilly Auto Parts in Lubbock, Tex. (until HEAD COACH DESIGNATE, Pat Knight, takes over and begins compiling lots of 18-12 records at the football school).

If the Knight feature was supposed to be a tribute to the 20th anniversary of his LAST championship, it missed the mark by a mile. It played like a Jeremy Schaap retrospective of "Knight Was Mean To Me (And Here's Why)."
Those interviews with Ghosts of Knight's Past were laughable, not to mention baffling ... weak attempts at a Bob Dissection which most of us couldn't give a flying fig -- not Ukari Figgs -- about.

"Blah blah blah ... Bob is the way he is because he was deeply wounded that Fred Taylor never started him at Ohio State, blah blah blah ...."

Dick Schaap: "Bob Knight owes my son an apology."
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!"

Good gravy ... Knight's quotes from the Playboy interview in early '01 ... it never never never gets old.
He will never never never live that down.
Not if this Planet can help it.

And, help it we must -- because, after Bob's finished marching toward Career Victory No. 1,000, he will unleash unto society that pollutant named Pat Knight so that America can bear witness to his metamorphis from Head Coach Designate to Non-Effective Cardboard Cut-Out Coach Who'd Be Fucking Hitchhiking Back Home From Akron If His Last Name Was 'Jones.'

Sometimes, America wishes that the Winter X Games Channel would send someone to ask Knight some real-world questions such as how he felt about scoring the layup which forced OT in the 1961 national championship game against Cincinnati -- only to see his 27-0 Blackeyes lose, largely because Paul Hogue sank a pair of free throws which put the Bearcats ahead for good.
It should be noted that Paul Hogue -- the 1962 tourney's MVP -- was a 41 percent foul shooter in the '60 and '61 tourneys (he was 20 of 28 at the stripe in '62).

Hmmmmm ... seems as though Knight's fucking heart was ripped out by some bullshit 40 years before 2001.
For the record, that layup by Knight in the '61 final was his only basket in three national championship games, so if anyone wants to talk fucking bullshit, it would seem as though Havlicek and Lucas have strong cases.

Notwithstanding the greatness of Havlicek and Lucas, THIS Ohio State team HAD to go down, particularly after Xavier didn't complete its task of dumping the Blackeyes in that Sweet Sucksteen game and then Tiny-See completely let OSU off the hook (blowing a 20-point lead) in that Elite Ache game.
Then, Georgeclown couldn't figure out how to best utilize the Big East MVP (Jeff Green) in that loss to OSU.

Green didn't attempt his first shot until 3:10 remained in the first half and he didn't attempt a shot in the second half until 6:10 remained.
The simple math is this:
Three shots in the game's first 28:50.
That was partly due to Green being too passive and not getting into "the flow" -- and, notwithstanding the accolades from everyone in America -- coach JT3 ain't smart enough to identify deficiencies in his team's offense and to make the adjustments to get Jeff Green "into the flow."
No bench points for G-Clown ('cuz Ewing played like a Hoosier instead of a Hoya) -- and, get this ... 8 foul shots.

But, let's back up for a minute.
The end of that Vomiteers-Blackeyes game served as a microcosm of why college b-ball is so entirely unwatchable.
On that Vomiteer possession in the final seconds, Ramar Smith dashed downcourt defended by OSU's best athlete (Mike Conley) and then shot-put a weak attempt into the elbow of the 27-year-old Oden.

Smith got his shit tossed, as they say -- partly because Smith is not a difference-maker and partly because Bruce Pearl is too preoccupied with going topless and applying body paint before a Tenn. chicks game to realize that a more-viable alternative woulda been to have Smith drive and kick it out to All-America Chris Lofton or Ryan Childress, who'd already drained 4 of 5 trifecters.

Why bother spending practice time drawing up a last-second shot which actually works?
Does Bruce Pearl look like he learned anything from Boise State's football team using intellect and execution to win the best game 0f 2007?

One can only hope that Pearl didn't do what he did at a previous coaching stint when he ("allegedly") distributed the per-diem $$$ based on performance (likely on orders from that legendary pastey-faced Dr. Tom).
Bruce Pearl ... the guy who put "ass" in the term "assistant."

So, unless we're willing to forsake "The Shield" season premiere for the chicks final tomorrow night -- the way we blew off the season premiere of "The Bachelor" for Gator Raid -- then, this is it for college b-ball.

Good for Florida.
Now, good riddance ...