The March(n) Chronicles by Steven R. Lagman, M.D., C.A.S.W. The Month of March, 2007 You are only getting one issue this month. This is not because I am busy–well, actually I am busy, but that’s not why. It is not because I am working on a pocket knife that takes pictures or a photograph that can cut through a copper pipe. The reason your are getting one issue is because I have decided to chronicle the entire month of March Madness a few thoughts at a time and put it all together like some trashy novel. The first installment follows. Others will follow that. Saturday, March 10. 7:48 AM Last Saturday was a coaching day for me so I did not see The Shot in real time. My coaching partner was plugged into a portable radio at the end of the bench, and he kept us updated on the Badgers progress. Our first half ended with the Badgers down by one. There was eleven seconds remaining. Coach removed the ear piece from the radio and the players huddled to hear the end of the game. The crowd of a few dozen people across the gym watched our reaction to see how the Badgers were doing. Raised arms and fist pumps indicated Kammron Taylor’s three pointer to take the lead. This was followed, a few seconds later, by another joyous outburst as Drew Neitzel’s desperation attempt fell short. Immediately it was back to the business of winning our own game. On Sunday my boys reached the finals of the Edgewood 8th grade tournament. We played St. Dentist (not the school’s real name), a team that we had beaten twice before. We won the first contest by a point in OT on a controversial three point shot. It is controversial because an enlarged photo taken from an inconclusive viewing angle shows that my son’s foot may or may not have been on the line. Oh well. In game two we won easily. Game three would be different in the way that getting blind-sided by a blitzing linebacker is different. St. Dentist has some part-time multi-sport tournament players, including one of the best players in the league, who were all available in the championship game, and the tournament format made it acceptable (I have no disagreement here) that reserves were played sparingly. In a tribute to the upcoming baseball season, we, of 16-0 prowess in league play, were shut out 7-0 in the first inning (quarter). By the second quarter I instructed my kids to ignore the score, celebrate any positive accomplishment, such as a completed pass, and to appreciate the opportunity to play an excellent team. It was a character-building beat down. I spent the week considering what changes we might make to improve our chances if we advance to the rematch in the MAISL year-end tournament this weekend. I realized that conventional wisdom insists that one cannot reinvent itself in the last week of practice. At this point, in case this is forwarded to any St. Dentist parents or coaches, I will only say that we are planning to approach the game exactly as we have in the past–press frequently in the half court and full court, get out on fast breaks and play man-to-man defense. The difference is that I will instruct the kids to play better. If we do get to the title game I will let you know how that strategy worked out against this physically superior opponent. Despite the kids’ tourney this weekend, I was still able to cheer for my Badgers. I was post-call yesterday, which made it possible to attend Wisconsin’s first-round game at the B10T in Chicago. My observations are these. 1) At a gas station near Beloit, I spotted a penny on the ground. Of course I picked it up. 2) If you are hungry and you have an extra $13.50 you can buy the worst $13.50 meal you have ever had at any of the United Center concession stands. This facility has elevated the vending of overpriced low-quality food to an art form. 3) My friend Brent said that the ice cream was good. 4) I like beating Michigan State. 5) What a job the guards did on Drew Neitzel. 6) Crouton (Suton) made me nervous. He started to hurt us, like he has in prior games, but then he went away. I was sitting by many MSU fans, which only made me cheer louder. 7) Amr, another one of my Iowa friends commented that the Badgers were in pretty good shape with a 15-point lead at half. I thought so too until a second-half drought made for drama that was just fine because of the outcome. 8) The Badgers were in pretty good shape with Alando Tucker on their side. 9) I am happy for Greg Stiemsma. He stepped up well and often. 10) Did I mention I like beating Michigan State? I drove back to Madison last night. The boys play at 10:30 this morning against a team we have beaten twice in the regular season. At least the coaches will not take High Point Christian School lightly, because it too has extra players who are finished with their tournament basketball season. If we lose, our season is over. If we win, we play tomorrow with an eye on the St. Dentist rematch. Once the game ends, it’s off to Chicago again for Wisconsin’s game against the Illini. It will be a red-orange border war of great interest to all in attendance. Glad I have an iPass. Better recharge it. iPass, which allows for no-stop, open-road tolling, is an amazing invention because it makes us feel good about participating in one of the biggest scams since the development of snake oil–the State of Illinois charges us an entry fee to spend our money there. Got to give them credit for that deception. To be continued . . .

Saturday, March 10, 10:15 PM My boys won easily, so our season lives until tomorrow. After the game I was off to Chicago for the second time in as many days for round two of the B10T. Son Connor accompanied me, still dressed in his Edgewood uniform. On our way we met every car owner who lived within driving distance of downtown Chicago. Each of them had text messaged all 14 million of the others to suggest that they meet for dinner that evening, inbound via the Kennedy Expressway. At the time I caught my first glimpse of the Chicago skyline traffic flow had slowed to top speeds, if you can call them speeds, of 14 mph. I was glad for these things: 1) that the kids’ game had not gone into overtime, 2) that I had an iPass–the cash toll lines were horrendously long, 3) that it was not rush hour and 4) that I was not a resident Chicagoan. I am sure the two cashiers on duty at each of the busiest toll booths were instructed to hand out iPass brochures to each passing motorist. I am sure each passing motorist was ready to strangle someone. Even with traffic we arrived at the United Center with 30 minutes to spare. My friends Brent and Amr gave me their tickets in the Iowa section, six rows up from press row adjacent to the free throw line. I will pay them each the $70 dollar face value, and throw in dinner next time they are in Madison, but I still feel a little guilty, given that their drunk corporate seat mates sold their tickets for $275 each. Even the market resale value neglects the true cost of the tickets, which can best be measured in 2:00 AM labor epidurals that Brent placed (read: $$$ donated) for the benefit of the Iowa Athletic Department. Perhaps it was some consolation for my friends to know that their seats would be occupied by people who enjoyed seeing Illinois lose as much as they did. And enjoy it we did. It took awhile for the Badgers to put Illinois away, but, unlike the game against MSU, I did not feel as if this outcome was ever in doubt. The insurance policy, at least in this game, was Alando Tucker, who seemed to be able to manufacture baskets whenever he felt the urge, which was fairly often. And just when I thought Kammron Taylor was starring in Slump II, the sequel, he started getting good looks and hitting them. This made the orange people very quiet. It helped that Illinois wore down on the defensive end. Of course that was what the Badgers do. I was impressed, as I scrutinized the shell-of-its-former-self Illinois, at what a difference a couple years and a handful of graduated players makes. As much as I would love to cheer for my team in the finals against OSU, I am not sorry that today’s drive to Chicago was my last one, at least for a few days. For sure tomorrow’s rubber match will not be a made-for-television beauty contest, so I'll just say "screw you" to Gregg Doyel in advance. I choose not to predict the outcome, but there will be intensity of scary magnitude. Logic would dictate that Wisconsin, weather it ends up a 1 or a 2 seed in the big tourney, will return to Chicago on Friday to play its first-round NCAA tourney game. I am planning to go, although one of my friends reminded me that I may not be able to get tickets. We should also note that, according to well-established NCAA rules, the selection committee is not obligated to incorporate logic into any of its decisions, meaning that there is still and an outside chance that the Badgers will be seeded 4th in the North Saskatchewan regional. I have reserved a helicopter just in case. My friends Brent and Amr offered me their tickets in the Iowa section, six rows up from press row. I will pay them each the $70 dollar face value, plus an expensive dinner next time they are in Madison, but I still feel a little guilty, given that their drunk corporate seat mates sold their tickets for $275 each. That doesn’t even recognize the many 2:00 AM labor epidurals that Brent placed (read: $$$ donated) for the benefit of the Iowa Athletic Department. Perhaps it was some consolation for them to know that their seats would be occupied by people who enjoyed seeing Illinois lose as much as they did. On the drive back, I was able to pick up the broadcast of the WIAA Division 3 Girls State Tourney final. With a few minutes left in the third quarter, my alma mater, Cuba City, was up 42-19, en route to a 27-0 season and a third consecutive state title. When I turned off the radio the Cubans were up by 38 points. That’s pretty good for a team with only three seniors. When we got home from the game, Connor and I played one on one in the gym. I hit 7 three pointers, but he killed me in the paint. The interaction made me sweaty. It also made me want to play ball with my Sunday morning group. Kelly thinks I should sit out another week, because I keep getting hurt when I play Sunday mornings, and pain will be a distraction while I coach tomorrow. I guess I will sleep on it. To be continued . . .

Sunday, March 11, 10:03 PM I awoke this morning just in time to play basketball, except that it was actually an hour later than I thought, due to the lunacy of setting our clocks ahead in the middle of the night. My knee was sore from playing against Connor yesterday, so sitting out was the better part of valor. I would get today’s dose of basketball vicariously. Who would have guessed that Wisconsin's loss by 17 to OSU in the finals of the Big Ten Tournament would have happened on one of the most fulfilling basketball days of my life? It started with the semifinal game of the MAISL 8th Grade Tournament. We faced Immaculate Heart of Mary, a team we beat easily last Saturday. No such pushover this time. The game was back and forth well into the fourth quarter. During one time out, I reminded the kids that this is what March basketball is all about. I told them I was having fun and that I hoped they were too. My fun was made possible in part by the acid blocking properties of the Pepcid I had taken an hour earlier. It was clear that IHM was not going to give us this game, so I asked my players to take it from them. Early in the fouth quarter, we found ourselves down by two. We had been trading turnovers, and our offense needed a lift. Hans, our scrappy point guard, got a pass on the wing and nailed a three. Suddenly we had the lead, and with some tough play on both ends of the court,we kept it that way. Our guys played well, but it was the best game I had seen IHM play in four years. As a coach, I was happy to get the win. As a basketball fan, I was sad to see them lose. On the way out I complimented IHM’s best player and thanked him for making the game so challenging for us. He and his parents graciously accepted my praise. We stayed to watch the other semifinal, where St. Dennis blew out an excellent St. Francis team, which beat us in the championship final last year. The last bracket was set, so we took a short break at a nearby tavern to see the first half of the UW-OSU. I was tempted to have a beer or four, but had a burger instead. I was pleased to see the Badgers go in to halftime only 6 points down. It was time to head back to the kids' game, so I did not learn of Wisconsin’s dismal outcome until later. Too bad it wasn't a better show. From a drama standpoint, this was probably one of the worst Big Ten tournaments in history. I may watch the TiVo'd second half in the morning, but I may never watch it. I am guessing our guards never got on track, I am guessing that Oden and Conley Jr. hurt us. No matter, we got a fair seed for the NCAA's, and more importantly, favorable location location location and a chance at a coveted rematch with Winthrop. This is blasphemous, but I honestly don't know if the Badgers can get to the Sweet 16. I did not hesitate to put Winthrop there. I love my Badgers, but even I of cardinal-colored glasses, have to admit that they are inconsistent, except for No. 42. A hot team, hot player, cold official or missed free throw could end their season prematurely. On the other hand, if I were an opposing coach, especially if defense was not my strong suit, I would not be so happy about drawing UW. If the Badgers are eliminated, it sure as hell won’t be for lack of effort. I approached the upcoming MAISL Championship game with trepidation. After all, it had only been a week since St. Dennis beat us in every way possible. After all, this was fifth time I would coach a MAISL final and my teams were runners up every other time. After all, my team was not named after a saint, the mother of a deity or one of her vital organs. For secrecy reasons I lied (see St. Dentist above) when I said we would approach the game like we always do. That was to trick any on-line spies. I could not risk tipping our hand and spoiling the surprise. We all agreed to eschew conventional wisdom and try to win the damn game. We decided to nix the press, a season-long mainstay, and to slow the tempo, which might have been like a zebra changing its spots, were it not for the adaptability of our kids. We also stowed our Bo-inspired Swing offense, instead borrowing a few pages from the play book of former Princeton coach Pete Carril, in order to take advantage of the aggressiveness of the St. Dennis man-to-man defense, which forced us into at least two dozen turnovers in last week's meeting. Lastly, we eliminated our man-to-man defense, in favor of a 2-3 zone, which could not have been more sacrilegious if we had wiped our dirty shoes on an immaculate heart. It was one of the rare times, outside of practice that our kids have played zone, and perhaps, now that they are entering a high school known for its commitment to man-to-man, the last. I explained to my kids that they had earned the right to try to win the game, and that they were now good enough man-to-man players, that they would be able to play zone well. I was thrilled when we scored the first two points of the first quarter, which is two more points than we scored in the entire first quarter of our last meeting. The zone D worked beautifully. Our kids denied penetration and bottled up the big lefty who mortally wounded us last time. Running the Princeton offense on two days worth of practice proved no easier than I thought it would be, but with prompting we were able to use it well enough to get some good looks, and we cut our turnovers significantly. For awhile St. Dennis even abandoned its pressure man-to-man in favor of a sagging zone. Moreover, the Princeton offense, even haphazardly run, was something unfamiliar. They must have wondered why it didn’t look like the Swing. Every player in the state who is older than 11 knows the Swing. Somehow our bigs, who are really just mediums, even managed a rebounding advantage. We were tied at the end of the first quarter, then traded leads several times. St. Dennis was up by four at halftime. In the third period, we continued to battle, but trailed by six. Then Connor hit a three. Ben hit another. At some point my co-coach, the other Coach Steve, convinced me to call "Spider", our 1-3-1 half-court trap. We went on to outscore our opponent 18-4 in the fourth quarter. It was the first upset of March Madness. Yes, the Badgers lost, but at that moment, it just didn't matter. My kids, in their final game of the year, faced their greatest available challenge and did so with success. I could not have been more proud of them. The beautiful irony of this win was that it was made possible by the thrashing handed us by the same opponent last Sunday. Had we not played the tournament-ready version of St. Dennis, we would have not thought to prepare differently and the ambush would have come today. Something positive from something negative. What a perfect lesson on which to end our season. to be continued . . .

Thursday March 15, 2007, 3:57 PM It’s amazing how busy a week off can get when there are brackets to complete and pools to run. Because of my stay-at-home vacation, I am one of few who is not compromising the productivity of our nations work force to engage in basketball-related pursuits. I completed my bracket with the usual convoluted insight, which you will only appreciate if teams such as Duke prove everyone wrong about them. I never thought I would see the day when I agonized over picking Duke in the first round. And how often is Duke an underdog? Weird stuff. I will most likely regret that tactic, but I will get over regretting it, and I will get over Bruce’s e-mail reminding me to regret it. It gets worse. You will most likely think me nuts, or disloyal or both, for picking Winthrop over the Badgers. First let’s get one thing straight: I am not cheering for Winthrop. Remember, in the Pride Pool no money changes hands, so there is little risk in taking risk. In past years I merely tried to reach the other side of my pool. This year I intend, one way or another, to make a splash. I am no longer content to finish ahead of two or three members of my extended family. I need an identity all my own, and for that I needed an angle that nobody else could even see, let along pick. My rationale was simplistic: Winthrop had Wisconsin in a head lock in the should-be friendly confines of the Kohl Center. At best the game should be a toss up on a (sort-of) neutral court. Besides, I heard Pete Rose on the radio yesterday. He said he bet on his own team, and that it was wrong to do so. If Wisconsin was not my favorite team, I would make the objective observation that the Badgers lack a consistent outside scoring threat, lack an imposing big man (though they have a fantastic medium-sized guy), have episodes of shaky ball handling and are unreliable from the free throw line. These traits do not fit neatly into the Final Four formula. However, since Wisconsin is my team, I will point out instead that the Badgers have heart, are very physical, play defense like it really matters, are 29-5 and have Bo Ryan as a coach. We have seen worse here. Lastly, I will gladly accept Pride Pool failure if my team moves on to the Elite 8. As I expected, someone wrote a letter to the editor of the State Journal to complain about the Cuba City girls running up the score. He said that the game represented a lost opportunity to teach the kids a lesson in sportsmanship. I sent the following rebuttle: As a coach whose youth basketball teams have won by a lot and lost by a lot, I have a different perspective on Cuba City's 42-point win over Amherst in the girls state tournament. That the winning team could have artificially decreased its margin of victory is not the most valuable lesson this game offers. I tell my own players that there is no humiliation in losing unless they stop trying. I tell them that I will never complain about another team running up the score because it is not my job to shield them from adversity, but to help them learn to manage it. I remind them that basketball is a game, that the opponent is supposed to score and that the act of it doing so easily and often should motivate us to do the work it takes to prevent it from happening again. Lastly, I encourage my players to seek out hard challenges and to be thankful for finding them. Such challenges, win or lose, will make them stronger, but only if they are willing to believe that. I know it’s not football season, but there is much dialogue about the Packers pursuing Randy Moss. My views on this acquisition are best explained as follows: Thin Mints. Yes, Think Mints, those delightfully crunchy, chocolate-covered mint wafers that leave your mouth feeling oh-so cool. On the surface Thin Mints seem like a good idea. When you see the box, you want one, which turns out to be six, because that’s how many fit comfortably in your hand. It is pointless to attempt moderation because once a Thin Mint enters the stomach, it secretes a chemical that attracts other Thin Mints within a two-mile radius. Thin Mints seem safe because they come in green boxes delivered by innocent-looking Girl Scouts wearing berets and sashes, but in reality, Thin Mints are bad. According to a trailing food scientist, these cookies are nothing more than flavored carbohydrates held together by a matrix of trans fats. Arsenic chips would be safer, but the Girl Scouts don’t have them. The point of this mostly-lame analogy is this: Randy Moss seems like a good idea now, but once he actually gets here we will wish we had left him on the shelf with the other stuff that’s bad for us. Speaking of disruptive personalities, my brother Bruce is at it already, trying to destabilize the family harmony by corrupting one of its most vulnerable teenagers. I put a Bruce filter on Connor’s e-mail, but I don’t think it worked because last night Connor was asking me for information about Arkansas. He stopped in mid sentence and said, "Wait a minute. You should be asking me questions." Whatever. Bruce’s note follows: As a former Pride Pool Champion, I believe I can give Connor some advice. Advice that his father could give him, but given his father's record in said Pool and other sporting activities it would have as much influence as a 3- point shooting clinic. There is no substitute for having walked in a champion's shoes. Please don't remind me of "that one time" you "won it all" because Gyrus used to slobber all over his bracket and Kelly was only 14. Please pass this on to the young lad. Don't think you understand how to pick college winners. It is like being good at Bingo or thinking you have the key to growing 3lb Tomatoes like your old man. Winning in our sport takes skill, but also luck. Granted, I was the only one who even dreamed of picking Syracuse to win it all in '03 and subsequently won in a landslide versus your victory, not even selecting the eventual champion. But, you still won. Don't listen to your parents. Your parents would sell your bedroom if it meant winning Pride Pool just one time between the both of them. In March, you must not listen to anything they say, I promise you every thing they tell you, show you or demand of you will be so they can win the Pride Pool. When you come home from school, check every inch of your room for one of those clever cameras they put in Patrick's car. It's in your room so they can understand how you function when you are in your bracketology lab. What I like to do, is place a large picture of my butt in front of the camera while I pick the winners. Don't pick Duke to win. Don't tell anyone what your picks are. There is a great chance you will lose this year, so milk it for all it's worth. Make sure you wear the crown for as long as you can. If you played your cards right, you are still turning away little hotties because you just haven't the time. Don't spend all your winnings in the first year. I think the Pool was worth about $63,000 in 2003. I can only imagine what you got paid with a new television deal in place and more participants. Hopefully, it's in the 100K range; enough money to get you through high school... Tell your old man you also want a trophy. If you ask often enough - he will buy you one and have the nameplate engraved with whatever you like. Tell your brother he sucks. He'll know what you mean. He will probably win this thing someday and your days of telling him he sucks are numbered. As younger brothers, we have to take shots at our older brothers whenever possible. Once I told your Dad he sucked at making peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. He didn't really suck at it, but when I saw him put the jelly on top of the peanut butter instead of on the bare piece of bread - I jumped all over him for about a month. Now would be a good time to ask for that hot tub again. Maybe make a little wager with the folks. You outplay them in Pride Pool again and they buy you an 8 person tub with Stereo, fog system, fiber optics and Hugh Hefner DVD. By the way, Bruce, sorry that Syracuse didn’t get in. I know you were hoping to ride Orange coattails to Pride Pool victory once more. Maybe you’ll win your NIT pool. With no due respect to Jim Boeheim, this tournament is not about Syracuse or any other team that is not one of the 20 in the country. I don’t favor expansion because 65 teams is enough to filter out the best one. It’s about finding the best one, not about finding a different team to get beaten by the really good teams. P.S. Bruce, any picture of your butt, would naturally be quite large. Please watch the redundancies. To be continued . . .

Saturday, March 17, 2007, 10:20 AM Here’s a simple business lesson for you. After our pediatrician’s house exploded, I decided I should have a secure off-site location to store digital copies of some family photos and important documents. I went to a nearby bank to rent a safe deposit box. The clerk was friendly, but explained that I had to open a checking account in order to rent the box. I didn’t want another checking account, so I asked instead if I could just pay the rental fee. He said there are a limited number of boxes, so they only rent to customers. I smiled and said, O.K. He thought I meant, O.K. I will open a checking account, but what I meant was, O.K., bye. I turned around, with the $50 rental fee still in my pocket, and walked out. I drove three blocks to a different bank. The clerk there said he would like it if I opened an account, but that it wasn’t required. I gave him my $50. Here is the lesson: If you give a customer a message that his business is not important, he may take his business elsewhere. $50 isn’t much to a bank that handles millions of dollars each day, but the world is highly competitive, and important relationships are sometimes built on seemingly trivial transactions. To be continued . . .

Saturday, March 17, 2007, 11:37 PM People say that the birth of a child is the happiest moment in the life of a parent. Having observed my friends Bob and Linda Cates in the stands during the WIAA Division 2 State High School Basketball Championship and at courtside afterward, I would now say that the birth of a child is the happiest moment in the life of a parent whose son has never helped his team win a state championship. Bob and I were med school classmates and teammates on our class intramural ball team. Our similarities ended in the classroom. Bob played ball in college. I was short and slow. Tony Cates, a 6-5 junior, plays for the now-state-champion Monroe Cheesemakers (for you foreigners, no, I did not make up Cheesemakers). Monroe returns most of its starters next year and should be a favorite to repeat. That’s where it gets very interesting because my son plays for Madison Edgewood. The two teams are Southern Badger conference rivals. I don’t know if Patrick, who will be a junior next year, will get to play, but if he does, he and Tony could face each other in key matchups at least twice next year. The good news, unless 5-8 Patrick hits a serious growth spurt this summer, is that they are not likely to guard each other. To be continued . . . Sunday, March 18, 2007, 9:30 AM I am in 26th place (out of 40) in the Pride Pool. This might sound bad, but I don’t see it that way. There is only humiliation if I stop trying. I could whine that people like Jon Berg, RB Kamps and Mike Hecht are running up the score, but I won’t. Instead, I relish the challenge that these elite players, not to mention the other 23 ahead of me in the standings provide. It will make me stronger, but only if I believe that. I should also offer the cautious perspective that my always-vocal sibling, Bruce, appears to be stuck in 39th place. I qualify that statement with cautious and appears, because it is too early for all but subtle taunting. Bruce, because he is about as risk averse as your average full-contact ice bungee jumper (see X games issue), has potential upward mobility, not unlike that of resurrected Wisconsin in its win TA&M Corpus Crispy. If Georgetown loses, I will be the first to dance on Bruce’s decomposing bracket, but until then, he is an object in my mirror that may be closer than it actually appears. The good news for Bruce is my friend Cheryl who is keeping her out of last place. I think Cheryl is Bruce’s friend too. In a tradition of Lagman minors protecting the family’s integrity, Patrick is tied for fifth, well within striking distance of the ever-tenuous leaders. Just like uncle B, he selected Georgetown as the tourney champion, so to cheer against Bruce is to cheer against my first born son. I told Patrick I was sorry, "but I would gladly sacrifice you if Uncle Bruce goes down." I was kidding of course, wasn’t I? Son Connor, last year’s winner, is 21st, and not very happy about it. It’s not easy to defend a Pride Pool crown. I was uncommonly calm during the first half of Friday’s game. I don’t know why. Maybe it’s because I found a penny while sweeping the garage floor. Maybe it’s because I knew that in the history of NCAA tournament, there has never been a shut out. Unless I knew it on a subconscious level, my tranquility was not because I imagined Kammron Taylor scoring 24 points in ten minutes. That’s a ridiculous pace. At half time I picked up Connor from school. He had heard the Badgers were struggling and wanted details. I told him that Taylor was 0 for 8. "Why doesn’t he stop shooting?" Connor asked. I am sure a lot of people wondered the same. Connor added that he would have stopped at 0-3. If that strategy had been a applied, the Badgers never would have reached double figures, let alone won the game. Game note for my players: Please, please, please let the lob pass die its well deserved death. It is fine when you have a seven foot tall player (with great hands), and all the other players are only six feet tall. It is fine when you have an NFL-caliber quarterback throwing the pass. It is fine down the lane line with a defender pinned on the receiver’s back. It is fine for alley oop passes when the receiver’s name something like Alando, Marcus or Kevin. Otherwise forget it. The conversion rate, even in college, is too low. This was well demonstrated in Friday’s game. Was TA&M CC the legitimate opponent everyone said it must have been to put UW in such a predicament? Sure. Why not? Let’s just say the there was a good chance the Islanders would have reached the Final Four, had Wisconsin not ended their season prematurely. O.K. I don’t really believe that, but TA&M CC did enter the game known for good shooting and the big man, though not Odenesque, was solid. Part of the problem for TA&M CC was the magnitude and the timing of the lead. Not that a team would ever shun an 18-point advantage, but that lead kind of lead so early has got to be hard to sustain, especially against a fundamentally good team like Wisconsin. It is human nature to be thinking, "O.K., we got them now–if only we don’t screw it up." That, of course, is the perfect mind set for screwing it up. The Badgers did their part, tightening up the defense, and managing the mental burden of having a lid, chains and a padlock on the basket. I am fascinated by the precipitous nature of momentum shifts in the game of basketball. Thank goodness the shifts went in our favor. Other thoughts: I like Jason Bohannon more an more every time I see him play. He has a lot of poise for a freshman. There is talk of Brian Butch getting back. I thought for sure Butch was done for the season. I hope they don’t play him too soon. Maybe, if there is a next week, next week. Kelly, the boys and I are on our way to Chicago to watch round 2 in person. It’s my third trip there in 8 days, but it’s for a good cause. We found 200-level (first balcony corner) seats on Stub Hub. Not cheap, but we have had worse. A word to the wise, or those in a hurry: If you don’t have an iPass, leave a couple hours early. Even on a Sunday morning, some of the cash toll lines are a mile long. What a blow for Xavier. What a save for OSU. Those of us who have followed the Buckeyes know the way they won that game was not at all out of character. Tough break for the Xavier kid who missed the second free throw. The overtime (Oden fouled out in regulation) shows us that OSU is not dependent on him. I am not sure what people expected on the botched intentional (flagrant?) foul call near the end of regulation, when Oden pushed a Xavier player out of bounds. I agree that it was a major officiating oversight, but it is consistent with the favoritism shown Oden all year long. Oden is a remarkable player, but the fact that yesterday’s game was the first time this bruiser has fouled out is flat-out ludicrous. To be continued . . .

Sunday, March 18, 2007, 9:09 PM It’s over. Kelly and I were both glad we got to see the Badgers play their last game of the season. Yes, the outcome was a monumental disappointment, but it was a good fight. Each team overcame adversity before one triumphed and the other succumbed. Not once did I think the game was lost for lack of effort. O.K., that’s a lie. There were a couple token shot challenges that irritated me, but then that little voice, or it may have been my mother’s little voice, said not to criticize unless I could do better. We all know there was not a time in my life when I could have. After the first half it was not clear to me how the Badgers would catch up. It seemed they were just plain overmatched. Then someone flipped the momentum switch, and I thought, especially with the Badgers finally up by five, that the Runnin’ Rebels were runnin’ out of gas just like the Islanders two days before. Not so. The coach’s kid caught fire, and Wisconsin’s season was extinguished. It was hard not to say the better team won, mostly because I define it that way. I felt worse for the seniors than I did for myself. Their expectations for the tournament were so much higher than their achievements. I am over it. The Badgers will get over it too. Tomorrow I will return to my day job, a place where pain and despair have meaning that goes far beyond the end of a basketball season. To be continued . . . next year.