The Buckeyes won their first two games and are on to the Sweet Sixteen. Yesterday's match against Iowa State was a classic, decided on Aaron Craft's last-second shot. In the post-game studio, analyst Charles Barkley said, "I don't mean to be hatin' on Ohio State . . . ," then proceeded to do just that for the rest of the day.
Chuck's boggle was that, with about a minute to go and the Bucks down a point, Craft took a charge with that wiped out an Iowa State basket, and Craft's heel may have been above the restricted area. Barkley said it should have been a foul on Craft, and the refs clearly blew it -- "a turrrible call" -- and their bad call cost the Cyclones the game. All afternoon, he reiterated his point.
Buster reminds Sir Charles that basketball is a frantically fast game and the refs make calls at game speed, not slo-mo. Applying the rules in the game of basketball is arguably the most subjective task in all of sports officiating, and the charging call is exceptionally subjective. Beyond that, there are bad calls throughout every game, and a bad call in the last minute doesn't impact the outcome any more or less than the bad call in the first minute. With the late-game tension of a very close contest, it just feels that way.
Charles should also remember that Iowa State had plenty of opportunities before Craft took the charge, and had opportunities after. The Cyclones didn't cash 'em in. The Buckeyes did. End of story. So bite me, Charles Barkley! And Go Bucks!
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This year marks 30 years since Jim Valvano's North Carolina State Wolfpack really put the mad in March Madness. In 1983, N.C. State had only a so-so regular season. The made the NCAA tourney only by winning the ACC tournament, which was considered a fluke. In the NCAA's, they somehow kept winning and found themselves in the championship game. Their starting five were Thurl Bailey, Sidney Lowe, Dereck Whittenburg, Lorenzo Charles and Cozell McQueen. Terry Gannon came off the bench. They may have been hot and lucky, but still no one gave them a chance in the final.
That's because their opponent was Phi Slamma Jamma, the mighty Houston Cougars. The Cougars were big, strong, fast and played with a bad attitude. In the national semi-final, they demolished a very good Louisville team. Houston looked unbeatable and they were the prohibitive favorites. Their starters were Clyde Drexler, Akeem Olajuwon, Larry Michaux, Michael Young and Alvin Franklin. Benny Anders was the instant-offense sixth man.
And we all know the fairy-tale ending: Improbably, David hung in there against Goliath. Down one point with just seconds left, the Wolfpack's Whittenburg launched a 35-foot prayer, which fell short . . . but into the hands of teammate Lorenzo Charles who dunked it through for the win as the horn sounded. Impossible. Pandemonium. Valvano running around. Wonderful, unforgettable stuff!
My recollection of this was sparked by a Sports Illustrated article on the reclusive/missing Benny Anders, #32 above.
http://insidesportsillustrated.com/2013/03/19/seen-benny-have-him-give-me-a-call/
Here are two video links of Benny Anders viciously throwing down in the semi against Louisville.
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Permit me one more basketball story. ("Buster takes the pass at the top of the key, crosses over, shakes the defender and drives hard into memory lane . . . ")
It was late March of 1992. The wife and I were in Cincinnati for a wedding. One of her high-school girlfriends was getting married on Saturday. The lovely Mrs. Gammons was in the wedding party, so we arrived on Friday for the rehearsal dinner. This concerned me because later that night Ohio State was playing Dean Smith's North Carolina Tar Heels in the NCAA round of 16. If we could get through this rehearsal stuff quickly, I could make it back to our hotel in time to watch most of the game.
We were at the church on time. We were the only ones. Everyone else was late, to one degree or another. Nothing had been arranged or decided. It was a chaotic clusterfuck and at the rate it was going, we'd never get out of there.
I pulled my wife aside and politely told her I was going to go back to the hotel to watch the Bucks. She was politely displeased. I pointed out that I was not in the wedding and therefore my presence was unnecessary. She reminded me that the bride-to-be had already paid for my dinner. I suggested the bride-to-be could send me a bill. The dear wife relented (thank you, dear!), and off I went.
Back at the hotel bar, I had dinner and drinks with a couple like-minded souls, and we cheered the Buckeyes on to victory over legendary North Carolina. This was a great Ohio State team -- Jim Jackson, Chris Jent, Mark Baker, Jamaal Brown and Lawrence Funderburke -- and they beat the vaunted Tar Heels convincingly. I was thrilled.
The following afternoon, the wedding went off without a hitch, much to my amazement. The reception was held at a VFW hall, with another full dinner and drinks and dancing. Shortly after finishing my meal, I noticed that the male contingent in the hall had dwindled considerably. Where could all the guys have gone?
Aha! I found most of them in the hall's adjacent bar-room, which held the building's only TV. And what was on TV that Saturday night? It was Kentucky vs. Duke in the Elite 8. Wives and girlfriends kept trying to get us to come out and dance, to no avail. We were addicts in our opium den, transfixed by a great game, a never-to-be-forgotten all-time classic -- Duke's Christian Laettner catches a 70-foot in-bound pass, and sinks a turnaround jumper at the buzzer to win it. Yeah, that one. The roar from the bar was so loud the wedding band stopped playing. What a game! And the wedding was decent, too. 
Then came Sunday, and the Buckeyes matchup against Michigan in Elite 8. I didn't want to miss any of it while driving home, so we stayed on in Cincinnati to watch it there. And it was yet another tremendous game. This was the Fab Five Michigan team, and they were really good. But so were we. Nearing the end of regulation, tie game, our ball, just a couple seconds left, Chris Jent puts up a little 8-footer in the lane, for the win, to advance to the Final Four . . . and it bonks off the rim, no good. Horn. Overtime. We lose in overtime. Damn!
Jent, who's now an OSU assistant coach, was one of my favorite players back then. He always played hard and gave it his all. If there was any justice, his shot would've dropped.
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Just some March Madness memories. Now why would my wife think I'm ant-social and useless this time of year?
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