Really clever optional game ending set up on the post.

But should your drinking really take precedence over your duty to your fans? Yeah, I know some of your fans are sitting there drinking with you, but I’ll bet that more of us live out of market and only got to see little updates on ESPN (“Austin Freeman shoots three.” “Greg Monroe for a layup.” BTW, anybody notice that AF with a disease kicked everybody’s ass? Yes, I had to do math to figure this out with no TV and no postings.)

Surely someone has a laptop. You can’t get me addicted then ditch me. If I had a dealer, he’d answer his beeper (Or don’t they use beepers anymore? Is that the 80s or the 90s?)

Since you are all out having a good time, I’m posting again. It’s been a bad, bad, bad fortnight for all of us, but I’m going to claim that aside from Austin and the Georgetown doctor who has to follow him around all the time, I’m in the running for the suffering award.

My husband sat me down and had a serious talk. He said, “Do you realize that you’re a middle-aged woman (ouch) with children who screams at 19-year olds who are playing their hearts out (Really, even Chris and Greg?)?”

I defend myself, “But they can’t hear me.”

“Bbut now you go onto a fan site and yell about these kids. Don’t you know that they could see it? What if you’re wrong about Wright?”

“I’m not. And it sounds like they don’t like it, so they probably don’t check it.”

He said, “Is this who you want to be? This crazy screaming woman? Filled with rage? Totally losing control during games?”

“No, I said lamely. “What I want is them to win.”

He said, “I’m worried about you.” He had me, right where he wanted me. Now I suddenly felt like the evil Kentucky alums who tortured our jointly beloved Tubby Smith into leaving, ushering in (eventually) the filthy Calipari.

Here’s where he made his mistake. “Honey, can’t you just be happy for them? They’re a lock for the tournament.”

“A what? You think they’re going to win the Big East tournament? Are you out of your mind? I’ll be you $20 bucks right now that they will do no such thing.” (Yes, in the depths of my despair, I placed a bet against the team.)

“No. They’re a lock for the the NCAA tournament. They’’ll defintely be going.”

And, that when he lost me. “You think someone from Georgetown is happy to GO to the tournament? Are you out of your mind? Going to the tournament?”

He said, “Look at X [his poor school]. When we got into the tournament for the first time [in like 100 years], remember how happy I was?”

“Oh my god, don’t you know how said that is? I would rather become a curling fan than be that sad.”

That’s when I realized that no one but a Hoya could understand, either someone who was there in the championship years or someone who had a sense of history. So, I come to you. After the talk, I could not generate any interest, at all. Without the vitriol, there is nothing left. No feelings of any kind. An indifference so deep, that I might actually have to turn to curling.

This is a big deal in my marriage. We’ve run a pool (I didn’t say gambling) with a blog (and before that running e-mails) for like 10 years at tournament time. It’s the annual high point of the relationship. My husband taught me about basketball. Big confession: I was a freshman for the 83-84 season. I had a season ticket that I used ONCE (probably would have been on your traitor list, as Cuse-scum probably snuck down into my seat). The only other two games that I saw were the ‘84 and ’85 championship games, on TV. So, the man who taught me basketball, ran the pool with me, and converted to Hoya fan-dom for me (from Hoya-hatred by the way) is afraid for my character. What’s more, I had been moping around all week worried to break the news to him that I didn’t think that I can do our pool this year. I just don’t care anymore. Basketball is misery and misery and more misery. I finally told him that night.

I clearly scared him because he said, “Look, if all you have is rage, we’ll go with the rage. Play on CasualHoya all you want.” Small break in the ice around my hear (like the scary snow wizard in the old Kris Kringle movie). Then, every day he starts feeding me copies of articles about everybody rallying around Austin (They come to me at work: I found them at my plate on the dinner table.) Little more melting. Now, we beat Cincinnati (I’m usually disgusted by his delight when we beat unranked teams—Hoyas don’t care about beating unranked teams. But he had the scores up and kept checking them, shouting out Autin’s totals. Little more melting, as I’m glad Austin’s having a great game at home.

Can I pull it out and put together 4 weeks of ranting about CBS’ piss poor coverage and the coaches I hate: the Duke Devil and all of the slick hairs (Patino, Calipari, Wright, even old cheating Valvano that has now been officially beatified by the league because he’s dead—have no other coaches ever died? Can Dick Vitale get through one game, just one without stroking him)? Could I face watching our first round game? (I refused to watch West Virginia)? For the sake of my character and the dear man who is my husband, I hope so.

Please, if you’ve done good in your life, send me some karma. I apologize for the length, but I am a sad case and have no one else to tell.

We’re probably getting another shot at USF on Wednesday, if they beat DePaul. Let’s trash ’em and avenge that reverse dunk as time expired last time.

…to 87hoya, great post. You’re a Hoya fan damnit. We’re all manic (aren’t we?). And, FYI, as a guy I can tell you that a well-timed BJ can quell any and all issues. Take one for the team. Or give one since that would be more accurate. Graphic and distasteful (sorry for the double entendre)? Yes. Also true? Hells yes.

I personally don’t care what the other teams did today. Seeing Austin saying FUCK YOU DIABETES made today great. I was really surprised to see him in for 30 minutes but I assume they’re monitoring him closely. Seemed like the team was pumped to have him back and that was great to see. Loved the Austin Freeman chants and it was nice to watch a Georgetown game and care more about something other than winning for once. Austin looked like Austin. Let’s roll. Fuck Cuse. They lost to LeMoyne AND Louisville.

I was never that good at these books.