Nothing But Iron: One and Stunned by Steven R. Lagman, M.D., C.A.S.W. February 24, 2007 I know it has been awhile, but I invented a number puzzle called SuNoKu and I am trying to sell it to the newspapers. The premise is simple: a 9x9 grid, all blank. To solve the puzzle, just fill in any numbers. You may use the same number more than once. I typically use all 1's or all zeros. It’s much quicker than its counterpart Sudoku, which requires logic and reasoning. Busy people and people of modest intellectual capacity will appreciate the simplified rules of SuNoKu. And now, a quote: Whoa, is it ever windy up here! –anonymous climber at the summit of Mt. Topatheworld. Yeah, the top of the world is precarious. We knew it. Bo coached it. The players probably believed it. But it didn’t help. Michigan State was simply a dangerous team, desperate for a high-quality win that would catapult it from underachieving bubble dweller to post-season contender. The Spartans’ enthusiasm, which had eluded them many times in the Big Ten season, grew exponentially–contagiously–in the final minutes of the game. The Badgers, like the Hawkeyes before them, suffered the ill effects of really bad timing. Not long ago, in a brutal loss to Purdue, Drew Neitzel could not have hit the student section with a gallon of paint. Suddenly, without warning or explanation that same Neitzel, or perhaps it was Steve Nash in collegiate disguise, emerged from suspended animation to be the fabulous player we feared he might be. His teammates followed his lead and the pressure was even too much for one of the two most popular teams in the country to endure. Some of us will find it hard to forget the final seven minutes of the game. Five days later, that portion is remains alive and churning in the pit of my stomach, like an undigested bolus of bad sausage. Some will view the loss as devastating to the Badgers, particularly when one accounts for the importance of late season momentum as the post-season approaches. True, it magnifies the drama of the Big Ten race, but by no means is the situation hopeless. The upside is as follows: 1) Now the Badgers go into Columbus as the clear underdog. It’s a preferable role, if a good team can get it. 2) OSU has essentially clinched a share of the conference title. The Buckeyes are coached well enough that they won’t likely develop a crippling superiority complex, but it is human nature to relax a bit with less on the line. 3) There will be valuable game film from which new lessons can be learned. With any luck, Thad Matta forgot to set his TiVo, and he’ll just have to guess how MSU won. Speaking under the influence of incomplete expertise, I can say I was not pleased with Wisconsin’s second-half shot selection. I don’t blame anyone, after all, the three-point shooting is much improved, and the Badgers hit several tough threes in the first thirty minutes that kept MSU from gaining an edge. Naturally that would lead Wisconsin to stay with it. Still, I don’t think the three, while valuable, can be the mainstay of our offense, particularly, as we witnessed with great angst, down the stretch. To rely so heavily on the long ball plays into the hands of our opponents. Some credit goes to the Spartans for taking away the inside. Likewise, I am disappointed that our guys were hammered so badly on the boards. Some of that was a consequence of shooting early. I am sure our guys were disappointed too. So lets talk worst case scenario, not counting meteor strikes and polar ice cap melting, just to reestablish my own perspective. Wisconsin is 26-3. This is good. If the Badgers lose out, the record would be 26-5, which is still good, but we might be talking a No. 3 seed in the NCAAT. The Big Ten tournament is good practice and the fans care, but the selection committee does not, so I won’t discuss it here. Winning out will lock up a number one seed in the NCAA’s. A split, unless UW loses to OSU in double OT, will make Wisconsin a No. 2 seed. I am one of few people who thinks it just doesn’t matter. I said this before, but it is worth repeating, mostly because I like to hear myself say things that I think are profound even if they are not. Seeding is only important if your goal is respectable advancement–See my t-shirt? We made it to the Sweet Sixteen, Elite Eight, blah blah blah. If you want to win the tournament you will have to beat several excellent teams. The order in which they are played is not important. A further consideration is this: These days every team in the tournament is good, mid-majors and major-minors included. Every team has the potential to get hot at just the wrong moment. One falling-out-of bounds three pointer as time runs out can end your season like a killing frost, no matter who you are. George "Who?" Mason made it to the final four last year. There was a No. 1 seed in that bracket that did not. Except that it assures you of close-to-home-court advantage, the No. 1 seed is an overvalued entity. Speaking of t-shirts, on Monday I received an e-mail from Bucky’s Locker Room advertising a shirt commemorating Wisconsin’s first ever No. 1 ranking. I apologize to any of you who now own this shirt, but this is possibly the most lame concept in the entire history of sports apparel. Is it just me, or do other people realize that a No. 1 ranking is not a tangible accomplishment? It’s a vote by people who claim to know which team is best. Sorry to repeat myself like a corrupt MP3 file (for you technophobes that’s a modernization of the old broken record simile), but Florida has an annual subscription to No. 1 that doesn’t expire until early April. Florida doesn’t need t-shirts. It has a trophy. Closer to sea level, I am entering my final weeks of coaching youth basketball, or at least the final weeks of this era of youth basketball. Many of my eighth graders, youngest son included, have been under my tutelage since they were 6 or 7 years old. I have taught them many things, but I began coaching as they began playing, so we learned our roles together. They have grown so fast and so well. In stark contrast to the frustration of watching the Badgers falter in East Lansing, earlier that same evening I experienced one of the best practices I can remember. I say experienced because we were a player short, so I joined my team on the court. I marveled at how well my kids were able to apply the lessons of basketball with me and against me. I marveled at how strong and fast and vertical they have become. Rebounds that used to fall into my outstretched arms were swiftly swallowed up by flying men-children that I had neglected to box out. Shot arced over my out-stretched hand, swishing cleaning through the center of the hoop. Passes zipped accurately and unselfishly on the perimeter. Dribbling occurred in moderation and for good reason. Gaps were exploited. Boards were crashed. It was good basketball–a far cry from the meager, clustered dribble-dribble-dribble-dribble-shoot existence from which they evolved. I will miss coaching so much that I may well find a way to keep doing it. You are not all like me, so I realize axis of the earth’s revolution does not pass through the center circle of a basketball court, so I have a few random thoughts to add for your sports reading pleasure. Rick Reilly, one of my sportswriting idols, wrote an article about Rex Grossman’s Super Bowl performance (see "Abominable Grossman," SI, Feb 12). It was vintage Reilly, full of wit and cleverly crafted metaphors. Usually I enjoy that, particular when Reilly’s rants target some overpaid NBA or NFL miscreant whining about how hard his life is. The problem with this column is that Rex Grossman is not a miscreant. He’s a young guy–26, but looks 17–who, for the first season since college, did not suffer a major injury (ACL 2004, ankle fracture 2005). He is not a star–well, actually he was sometimes–but I have yet to hear a story about him whining or lashing out at the media or blaming his teammates (like Peyton you-know-who did once). Grossman’s crime is that he tried his best to help his team win. There are worse transgressions. Some very good quarterbacks have never won a Super Bowl. There are many more who never will. I agree that Grossman could have played better, but he has played in a Super Bowl and he is good enough to make a living playing football. Few sportswriters can claim that. Reilly is famous for original angles. Picking on Grossman is as original as mustard on hot dogs. Mostly, it was just plain mean. I read this on the internet: Author Michael Keren followed nine bloggers for his recent book. He says bloggers are lonely and isolated. Screw that! Who needs this Michael Keren anyway? Who needs any of you? Just leave me alone. Because of a well-meaning law gone rancid, Wisconsin’s governor has selective veto power that allows him to cross out words and combine those left over into sentences and paragraphs to create legislation completely different from that intended. I wrote a letter to the newspaper about that: It is irresponsible for certain legislators to block proposed reform of line-item veto abuse. That there is a need to do so in the first place is shameful. Governor Doyle should be reminded that with or without reform he has the authority to do the right thing at any time. I wanted to include the word dirtball, but I figured they would edit that out anyway, so I didn’t. I am reasonably confident that my published reminder to our governor will be almost as effective as using a spork to clear the driveway after the foot of snow we will get tonight. In six weeks I will plant tomato seeds. Three months later I will transplant the tomato plants outside. Two months after that I will make a turkey-lettuce-tomato sandwich that will be so ridiculously good I will refrain from describing it to you lest you become filled with hateful envy. I will think about this sandwich while I am shoveling snow tomorrow. Tomato seeds remind me of baseball season. I do not know if baseball players are on steroids, but for sure their salaries are. Barry Zito got $126 million from the Giants. I know he doesn’t get that all at once, but, just to put it in perspective, I could work for 250 years and not make that much money, even if I started getting paid for coaching, gardening and sportswriting on top of my doctor gig. For the record, I intend to retire before that. I got a message that Ed Koehl from the Milwaukee Brewer's office called to see if I had any interest in ticket packages for business purposes. I tried, but could not come up with any sound business purpose that would cause me to buy Brewer’s tickets. Then again, maybe Mr. Koehl is offering a novel way for me to sedate my patients. Relative to the high cost of anesthesia medications, Brewers tickets might actually prove cost effective. Don’t even bother to tell me how good the Brewers are going to be this year–not unless it’s September and they are still in the pennant chase. Lastly, a word about my friend Michael Smith, a banking executive by trade, who had the titillating opportunity to interview Erin Andrews, ESPN sports analyst. Here is an excerpt from the interview (reprinted with permission): MS: So, you come to the Kohl Center often? EA: Yes, whenever I’m assigned to a big game. MS: Oh. Um. How do you like working for ESPN? EA: It’s exciting. Hard work, but you get to meet a–hey, what are you looking at? MS: Sorry. I was, um, the pattern in your sweater. That’s Angora yarn right? EA: It’s not a sweater. MS: Oh. Yeah. Yeah. Right. Well, um, you, like, know Dick Vitale, right? EA: I think my producer wants me. MS: Yeah, I suppose he does. _______________ Nothing But Iron is an amateur sports column. The author is lonely and isolated, but for good reason. SuNoKu is a trademark or is patented or something like that, and should not be played without permission. The author apologizes for making up fake interview dialogue, and for his implication that any particular elected official is a dirtbag, even if it’s true. © 2007 DrTM Enterprises. All rights reserved.