Continue reading »]]> Tomorrow, when you’re starting your work week, trying to get into the flow of things, you’re bound to be distracted by something. It will creep into every office meeting, cubicle farm, inprompt0 tailgate meeting on your job-sites. It is destined to enthrall every casual male sports fan for the next month, ending in Indianapolis with the crowning of a champion, or the awarding of $500 to some random who always picks North Carolina. Google searches for “bracket” will go up thousands of percents. Everybody is going to discuss how they ducked out of work for an hour to watch a first round game. Somebody will be “cool” because he picked 5 upsets in the first round.

March Madness is a term for the masses. It’s goal is to create a froth of Johnny Come-lately for three weeks in March. Everybody will fill out three brackets, half of them will be trashed after the first weekend, and some soccer mom will win a random pool of loot for something she knows nothing about.

I question the term “Madness” because, to me, it is a symphony. There is nothing mad about it.

64 teams lace them up in perfect harmony. 64 goes to 32 goes to 16 goes to 8 goes to 4 goes to 2 goes to 1. Each team receives a seed, based on their seasons work. Then, each team plays the game. If you want to advance, you win. If you want to win, you have to play better than the other team. Doesn’t mean you ARE better than another team. Just means you have to show up on that day in order to advance. Survival of the willingest.

Simply slating a random team on a bracket line demeans the effort that has been put forth by 300+ teams over the last 4+ months. It means more than what people will make of it. Bus rides and late nights, and hotels and buffets and practices, those damn practices. Sprained ankles and concussions and hamstring tweaks and bone bruses. Some guy is going to pick Richmond to hit up the sweet sixteen this year in his bracket and feel pretty good about it, not knowing what the Spiders have put into this season to make him look real smart, or real stupid. How about the fact that it’s real? A real town, and a team that affected a real conference of basketball teams. They loaded up the bus and hit the road. They defended their home gym. Taped up ankles and suicides. All so you can pick them to beat Oklahoma State. Every team is real, every player, every coach, every university or college. Every small college town, or city block, or small state. The miles traveled are real. The sweat spent is real too.

I learned this the hard way. I’ve entered my fair share of brackets. I won a good portion of them. You live and you learn. I no longer feel the need to express my love for this game in the form of a bracket. I actually kept the last bracket I ever filled out, folded it up, and put it into the program of the second tournament I ever went to, in Milwaukee. This is an evolution, for you, and for me.

So when a random wrong comes up to you this year with a stack of blank brackets, and asks you for twenty bucks to enter, politely pass. Maybe even offer to buy him lunch with said twenty bucks. He’s lost, and he probably needs it.

Enjoy it for what it is. It’s better than a computer print out and a highlighter. It’s not mad. It’s not crazy. It’s not insane. It’s a symphony of 347 basketball teams. Nobody ever notices the guy who plays the triangle, but that doesn’t mean he’s not important.

Continue reading »]]> There is a certain code to live by that makes being a sports fan a meaningful experience. It can be a difficult code to follow in hard times because it involves making an emotional attachment to a program, and linking your fortunes with theirs. It is because of that attachment and because there is the potential to suffer with your team that makes the enjoyment of winning so much more intense when you are lucky enough to experience it. You have to suffer with something to truly be a fan of it. You have to be tested, and you have to remain loyal when the temptation of being one of the throngs who regardless of geography or alma mater flock to the most successful blue blood program  or worse to Kobe or Lebron. If you are ever to earn the right to celebrate a teams accomplishments with pride then you must experience more than just a championship run. You have to be there on cold February days when conference road games take their toll. You might have to sit through an NIT or even CBI game, you have to watch players leave the court in March in tears knowing that they gave you 4 great seasons and you will never get to watch them again. You have to experience all of the highs and the lows to earn a meaningful affiliation.

It occurred to me yesterday when I was sitting in the Convocation Center watching my two mid major alma maters battle it out in a game that would determine 3rd place in the MAC West that this game had more meaning to me than the previous weeks Duke/North Carolina game could have had to most of the chattering, blue clad masses in the Dean Smith Center or watching on ESPN, because I am vested. I spent three years of my life in Kalamazoo and watched the Broncos 10+ times a season since the day I set foot on that campus, I’ve spent the last 4 years in Ypsilanti going to every EMU home game I can. The highlights of rooting for middle of the road to bad mid major teams are not plentiful, but they are far more memorable than any Final Four could be for the team I might have arbitrarily chosen to root for.

This might strike some as a bitter rant. I certainly don’t mean for it to. I root for Eastern Michigan, Western Michigan, Georgetown and Michigan State. I have degrees from Eastern and Western, and followed Michigan State since an early age. I do not mean to imply that you must attend a school to root for the basketball team. I think it should be your first loyalty and I absolutely resent the notion that you should cast aside your personal affiliation just because the athletic program isn’t as high a profile as the larger state school. I do recognize that some people make an attachment early in life and it stays with them regardless of where they went to school. I absolutely get that and for the most part can respect it. The so called fans that I can’t abide by are the guys that root for the top team, top player, or top tradition and want to revel in that success. These are the parasites that latch on to the biggest thing they can find to try and share in their success.

Classic example is this clown who sat near us at last years championship game:

This guy was the most vocal person in our section. He was more animated in his support of the North Carolina Tarheel’s than Tyler Hansborough’s parents (I know this because as the game got more and more out of hand I kept an eye on both just to have something to take my mind off things). He didn’t even care enough about the team to ever buy a t-shirt. He did care enough to put on his best Carolina Blue Rocawear jacket and matching Carolina Blue Old English D hat, and try to taunt Spartan fans in our section. He liked to declare things over and jump out of his seat for dunks. I liked to yell “Go Rocawear” every time he did, because I have zero respect for guys like this. If he had an equally unaffiliated friend who was wearing green and white Fubu and had a green and white yankee hat it would be different. But this tool was trying to banter with real fans who were watching their team play for the highest stakes out there. It was completely inappropriate, and no matter how much he tried to pretend to celebrate afterwords it was clearly unauthentic and meaningless. He was out there watching a TV show, I was watching a team/program that I had been following since I was in 3rd grade, other people were watching a team/program that represented the school where they spent years of their lives, a place where they had chosen a career path, met a spouse, etc… it just wasn’t balanced.

My philosophy is simple and fair. There is nothing wrong with liking a team. You can like a team without being a true fan. I like Georgetown. I root for Georgetown, watch them when I can, know who their players and coaches are, and read about them. I like their tradition, I like that they win at an elite level without taking dirty BCS football money, and I just plain enjoy watching them play. I am a true fan of Western Michigan. This is because I can’t walk away when the program is down, or when we have a tough loss. If Georgetown starts a long slide it won’t bother me that much, I’ll just root for Seton Hall or something. If Western Michigan starts/continues to slide I’ll get pissed, want the coach fired, call Ball State cheaters, want to build a new arena, drink more, etc… I can’t walk away from “my team”. If you don’t have a team you can’t just pick one up overnight . You have to earn the right to call a team yours through time and energy expelled watching, hoping, and sometimes being disappointed. Until such time as you become a true fan of a team you should be respectful of true fans and never try to equate your loss affiliations with their real passions. If some tool at BW3s who grew up in the same town as I did, went to community college, grew up rooting for the Fab-5 and then Michigan State when Izzo became dominate, and has never lived outside of Metro Detroit, sits next to me to watch Kentucky play WMU in the tournament this March (I can dream), he better not pump his fist and try to talk shit to me if Kentucky is beating up on Western Michigan just because he really likes Wall, and Bledsoe. He doesn’t matter, his thoughts don’t matter, and his happiness is just a meaningless front, because to him, sports don’t matter. I’d rather watch a game with some crusty old Kentucky fan from the hill country who has a picture of Adolph Rupp in his rec room if he is a true fan of his team. Because at least that guy gets it.

Continue reading »]]> Michigan State’s amazing final four run was almost enough to make me go out and buy some fresh new spartan gear. I say almost because that Nike crap that they try and force down your throat is too hideous to consider. The script state with the silver outline is too generic and usually accompanied by some kind of hideous piping and a bunch of swooshes. The alternative is to get some clingy click clack shirt but I won’t be doing that either. I need to find some vintage pre Nike gear. So give me a call if anyone sees this guy again:

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Well it has finally happened. It was a great eleven year break, but you always knew in the back of your mind that one day Michigan basketball would emerge from its NCAA sanction hangover and become at least locally relevant again. It seems that time has come and we are now at the starting line of a new era of Michigan basketball. An era that promises to be less comical than Amaker NIT dynasty and far less satisfying than the days of Brian Ellerbe leading the scUM to record setting blow out losses. No this new era is going to be very annoying, sometimes frustrating, and always infuriating. It has given the Wal Mart Wolverine an excuse to take his yellow and blue pleather jacket out on the town again, and to offer his wit and wisdom to the talk radio universe. 

It was today on the Ann Arbor sports talk radio station WTKA that I heard them out in full force. These legions of scummy homers, completely oblivious to the fact that the sweet 16 begins tomorrow and that real teams are looking to punch their tickets to the Final Four in Detroit. The talk during the drive time hour was all about how the refs jobbed Michigan out of the game by giving all kinds of calls to Blake Griffen ( I never heard anyone mention that he is the National Player of the Year) and slapping St. Beilien with a technical when he stood up for his teams virtue. It was the typical pathetic display of detachment that you come to expect from this crowd on a Monday after a football loss. That is when it truly hit me that Michigan basketball is now back to a level where it has to be dealt with. 

The 11 year’s Michigan spent in the college basketball wilderness outside of the bright lights of the NCAA tournament was partly a punishment, and partly a self imposed exile of shame resulting from the Ed Martin scandal and the Fraudulent Five. The scum bag bravado that made Michigan basketball a brand name in the early 90′s became to much for the old blues that run SUNY at Ann Arbor to deal with. Instead of coming to grips with the total lack of institutional control and general corruption that lead to the largest dollar payouts in the history of collegiate sports, the university chose to portray college basketball as an inherently dirty game that was beneath the dignity of their pious institution. The emphasis would be on running a clean program with quality citizens, not on competing at the sports highest level. That would all come later since Michigan was Michigan after all and inherently better than the lesser institutions it was forced to compete against. Michigan didn’t need Rick Pitino it had Tommy Amaker. Michigan didn’t need to recruit against Michigan State in state they could recruit nationally (just like for the student body). Michigan didn’t need the spotlight on it at all it was happy to reemerge nationally on its own terms with a program that was beyond reproach. A pipe dream that kept them from suffering the embarassment of trying and failing. They could fail and act like they weren’t trying or at least not putting in the same amount of resources. Any success was a bonus. That is until the NCAA became too elusive for Tommy Amaker and co., and deep NIT runs became the programs only point of pride. Even the image of a clean program took a hit when Daniel Horton decided to punch out his lady friend.

Enter John Belein fresh from trailer park U in Morgantown. His plan is to build a team of chuckers around a gimmick zone defense. Fine whatever seems harmless enough right? Unfortunately he has had just enough success in year 2 of his system to wake the dragon in Ann Arbor. Having no success in something allows the institution to ignore it. Having modest success in something makes them want to take it to the next level to protect their reputation (which is very big in their own minds). This is very dangerous to the sport. Last time they went head to head with Tom Izzo they had to break the bank with a numbers runner giving kids birthday cakes full of cash, and Varsity Ford hooking the guys up with fully loaded Ford Explorers. Now that the bar is even higher in East Lansing what will scUM do to reach that level. Who will they kill? How much will they spend? Will it involve Jalen Rose? Its impossible to tell. Whenever that institution starts to believe their own legend they can’t be told otherwise. 

Whatever happens next at scUM I promise you this: It is going to be a terrible time for basketball fans in Southeast Michigan. I now have a delusional, uninformed, and detached fan base right in my own backyard awakened to a new sense of purpose. We have a university far enough removed from the disgrace of its past and so arrogant that it won’t have the discipline or morality not to cheat. And we have a coach who can win at just a high enough level to wet the appetite of both. Get ready for it.

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March madness has begun.  Last night the Big South Conference, the Ohio Valley Conference and the Horizon League were the first in the nation to begin their conference tourneys , and today there are twelve less teams left competing in D1 college basketball. The season is over for: Coastal Carolina, Gardner-Webb, High Point, Winthrop, Tennessee Tech, Eastern Kentucky, Tennessee State, Eastern Illinois, Loyola Ill. , Detroit Mercy, Youngstown State, and Valparaiso. These teams compete in relative obscurity most of the year except for a few pay day games in the early winter, and if they are lucky for an afternoon in March. Their elimination from these low profile events is of no particular interest to those outside the small fan bases of those leagues.  But please take note because they have as much at stake as anyone else. They are fighting to stay alive and to keep playing the game they love. So to those guys whose basketball careers came to an end last night we owe a debt as fans, for the work they put into this game that we all enjoy so much. It is something to keep in mind as we tick down to selection Sunday and more and more teams are eliminated. All but one season will end in defeat for these teams, their players, coaches, fans, students, and alumni (Well that is unless you count the NIT champion or the CBI champion…no  wait they aren’t holding the CBI this season, but they are having something similar, so the champion of whatever that thing is. Oh and the D1 independents who could technically win their last game since they don’t play in a conference tournament. Come to think of it the Ivy League still doesn’t play a conference tournament so almost half of the Ivy League could win their last game too.  Actually more than half since the conference champion could theoretically lose their last Ivy League game and then win the national championship… that should be it as long as there aren’t conferences that exclude some teams from the conference tourney or if that new CBI replacement tournament has a consolation game). So thanks for the effort all of those teams we won’t be seeing on the big stage, your contributions are not forgotten, if anything they serve to enhance the magnitude of what will come later.

So long to the Chanticleers, Runnin’ Bulldogs, Panthers, and Eagles of the Big South. Fair well to the Golden Eagles, Colonels, Tigers, and Panthers of the Ohio Valley. Good night to the Ramblers, Titans, Penguins, and Crusaders of the Horizon League. Maybe we’ll see you for next years trip.

Continue reading »]]> Notre Dame is the most silly ass institution in collegiate sports today. The higher ups in the school and athletic department are delusional, detached, depraved, entitled racists, and pederasts. The fan base is a groveling collection of fan boys who never outgrew Disney movies, and still love to go to an air show. A general fascination with bright shiny things, familiar noises, and a need for sappy morally bankrupt drama to replace reality when things get difficult is their collective character. The school itself is easily mistaken for a very opulent travel plaza on I80, but instead of serving weary travelers a slice of Sabaro on their way to Chicago all Notre Dame ever serves anyone is a great big self serving portrait of their own perceived greatness. If it weren’t so pathetic it would be sickening.

You could speak at length about the utter travesty that Notre Dame football has been since they were done coasting on their advantages gained during WWII, the illegitimate Heisman Trophy awarded to Paul Horning member of a 2-8 ND squad over a player as great as Jim Brown, The inflated standings in the polls, the NCAA record long bowl losing streak, the rampant cheating under Lou Holtz, The racially motivated firing of Tyrone Willingham, The infomercial quality of their NBC coverage, The farce that was Rudy Rudager, the utter size of their current head coach, and the sexual orientation of their current QB, but this isn’t a football blog so I’ll leave it there… Except to say that Tim Brown somehow won a Heisman Trophy while pulling in 36 catches and racking up 8 total TDs while playing for a 4 loss team, and we are all supposed to be impressed by the 7 Heisman winners at nd. If the football team were any more of a travesty it would take away from what is easily the most comicaly over rated college basketball team since they hung the first peach basket.

• Luke Harangody plays like a guy a the Y…and not even one of the good players. He plays like a guy who thinks he could have been really good if he didn’t blow out his knee in high school, and now he gets alot of satisfaction in using his baby hook and arsenal of strange post moves to stupefy better players that are offput watching his over the top nonsense.
• Kyle McAlarney couldn’t start for most teams in the Horizon League. He can’t create a shot, play defense, or hit a contested jumper. He gets alot of miles out of having some range and irish sounding name.
• Tory Jackson is a half assed show boating and1 wannabe. His dribble drive makes the Godey look graceful.
• Ryan Ayers is Randy Ayers son. That is all.
• Luke Zeller would cry himself to sleep in his huge pillow after one 90 minute practice with Tom Izzo.
• Mike Brey made Tommy Amaker look smart when they were on the Puke staff together.
• Digger Phelps and his idiotic devotion to a school that fired him 3 decades ago would be funny if it weren’t so pathetic. He never even got them to a final four. in 1996 Rick Stansbury got Mississippi State to a Final Four.  In 2002 Mike Davis got Indiana to a national championship game. Do you think those guys will be given free run on Gameday to talk about Mississippi State and Indiana with as much naked homersim as Digger when they hang it up? No way. And they have achieved a level of success beyond anything he ever did.
• The Joyce Center has pull out wooden bleachers, an old AV pull down screen that they use for player intro slideshows, and a concourse that smells like a church basement. There are no less than 7 teams in the MAC with better basketball facilities.

Keep NotreDame off of ESPN until they have a legitimate program. Stop trying to pretend they are good just because the elite sports media want them to be. They are the 10th best program in the Big East, at best a bubble team, and even if their publicist Digger Phelps won’t admit it an annoyance to true college basketball fans.

I should add that in the 2nd Rd. of the 2002 NCAA tournament in Boston, Duke and Notre Dame played what is quite possibly the most disturbing basketball game I have ever seen. A player on one of the teams pooped himself ( I am 90% sure it was Mike Dunleavy) and both teams got it all over themselves. The CBS announcers did not comment on this, but it was pretty evident. It was a classic example of how the elite sports movie could ignore even the presence of excrement when it comes to their favorites.

Notre Dame Sucks.

Continue reading »]]> I was never good at many sports, but I instantly recognized the importance of competition at an early age. An avid collector of basketball cards, and a purveyor of the ’7 year old one handed jump and throw towards an impossibly tall basket’ jump shot, basketball was easily my most favorite sport. Growing up in a small city in Michigan I was naturally drawn (or forced, as pictures of me in U of M clothing represent) to the popular hometown teams. My passion found me sneaking out of bed at 11:00 at night to find the living room empty and the TV all mine. Seeing that I lived with my divorced mother, finding a basketball game on the only television in the house was impossible. The exception to this was when the world was asleep, and the Bad Boys went into battle 3 timezones away. I huddled under a blanket 3 inches away from the television, absorbing the glow of Isiah Thomas, Joe Dumars and Bill Lambier as they slayed the evil Lakers from somewhere across the uncrossable country. In defeat I learned of the ‘Magic’ that Ervin Johnson displayed, his links to what would become my favorite in-state university, and the Lakers Dynasty.

Hindsight allows me to realize that my mother had to know what I was upto. It was not until Vinny Johnson hit a simple 14 foot jump shot in 1990 that my secret came to the forefront. By some stroke of fate my deeds went unpunished.

Passion cannot be forsaken.

Since those early years my love for the game has evolved to a form not recognized by many people. While I still enjoy the NBA and the Detroit Pistons, I find the purest form of the sport resides at a lower level of overall talent. It resides where the game does not cash a check or endorse a sneaker. Yes, College Basketball in many forms is as corrupt as its big brother. It has evolved into a developmental league, players often staying one or two years before they are off to bigger and better paydays in the NBA. Players like Kobe Bryant, Kevin Garnett and Amare Stoudamire show that kids are ready sooner, and achieve greatness at a younger age than ever before. However, the sport reaches purity found no where else when you look past the Dukes and North Carolina’s, and into the hundreds of schools at the mid to low major level.

Stephen Curry was 5 foot nothing as a Junior in high school. His jump shot can melt butter and make your own mother cry, yet he was passed up by several big time schools, always looking for the next Kevin Durrant or Greg Oden. Given a chance at a small private school in North Carolina, as a sophomore in college, Curry produced the single greatest performance I have ever witnessed live on a basketball court when he alone outscored the entire Wisconsin team in the 2nd half at Ford Field in Detroit, leading his team to an upset victory and a trip to the Elite 8. He was not supposed to and he did.

The improbable. The impossible. Shouldn’t have a shot. Not supposed to be there. Yes, the NCAA Men’s Basketball tournament always ends up righting itself in the end, producing a champion from a blue blood school with every advantage and no reason to fail. However, every now and then there is a George Mason, a Villanova, and a Davidson to remind us that there’s still a reason to play the game.

We’ll be there to tell you about it. The Trip started in 2001 with 3 friends from high school and has now settled in at 5. Many cities have been visited. The Trip has seen its highs, and its lows, but never did it cease to exist. It has spawned its own website, clothing, catch phrases, and even a future spin-off. The Trip has thrashed several hotel rooms, devoured a brackets worth of meals and consumed its share of brews. It will continue on into the future with no end in sight, and only one goal – to be there.

Shout out to Philadelphia 2009.