After enjoying a week of Nashville nights and hot Florida sun for my final collegiate spring break, the brain cells Natty Light and Old Fitz failed to kill (though thoroughly weaken) have produced a few observations and predictions:
If sexy Final 4 pick LSU indeed lands in Indy, John Brady should be forced to split his salary amongst his players for carrying him there. And please Coach, take the marshmellows out of your mouth.
We hate Joakim Noah because he... a) is half French b) has overtaken Martina Navratilova as the most strapping female in sports (nice dress) c) may be playing better basketball than any player left in tournament.
In an obvious ploy to appeal to the Desperate Housewives sector, CBS has made it a practice to constantly put the cameras on coaches' wives. In some cases, this is good: such as Mike Gottfried's mantle piece. Then again, it's down-right inhumane to make us look at Ben Howland's squeeze while eating dinner.
Tyler Hansbrough may resemble Pinocchio when running the floor, but my goodness! Amazing to see a 19-year-old go "Tim Duncan" all over competition. No way Brandon Wright can be this good...can he? (Yes). Too bad Murray St. had to overcome injuries and woeful zebras, they had the horses to pull it off.
I would love to see Coach K attempt to eat a double cheeseburger...no way he could fit it in there.
Let's hope Mickey DeMoss has better luck against Mich. St. than the men have in the past.
Looks like it's time for all Bob Perry haters to shift their disdain to Sheray Thomas (the water is warm). If Bob continues to piggy-back this team he'll likely end up cuddling with Rekalin in the Medi-Spa.
Could another 'anal'yst please make reference to the Huskies/Great Dane matchup as a "dog fight"? And could said experts please continue to act like they were the first to think of it? I was just starting to get over Packer's "Simon Says, Championship."
If Josh Boone lost the 'rows' and got a Parliament wig he could definitely be on currency. Might not make sense now, but think Tommy Jefferson when you see his profile tomorrow. He almost makes Charlie Villenueva look like Denzel Washington.
Let's see...Marcus Williams steals thousands of $$ worth of computers from The University of Connecticut. Today, Marcus Williams steals telegraphed passes for...THE SAME SCHOOL HE ROBBED! Seriously though, I'm sure the University gives second chances to ALL students who plot, break and enter, and steal with the attempt to distribute.
Shagari Alleyne has seen more class than Jim Calhoun.
Randolph Morris HAS to play 30+ for this game to be watchable. Must coaches always protect you Randy as if you were a bald eagle?
Here's the joke:
M. Williams/R. Rondo
D. Brown/P. Sparks
R. Gay/J. Crawford
J. Boone/B. Perry
H. Armstrong/R. Morris
here's the truth:
As morbid of a mismatch as this undoubtedly is, it would be foolish to concede the Sweet 16 to UConn (steal from us and still play for us). As if the Tourney isn't annually chaotic enough, this year has proven that the door in each game is so wide-open that Ricky P's ego and Joe Namath's liver could fit through it simeltaneously. I think Kentucky's best bet would be to watch film from Nova's, and [gulp] Louisville's full-court strategy that yeilded positive results. Let's face it: Morris WILL get in foul trouble, and Sheray WILL play. Our only hope is an up and down game and a lot of Sparks wizardry...cause the only way he'll be in the game is if he's lights out. UConn showed a prima dona attitude in the first round and was lucky to not make history against a team whose mascot is Crime Dog McGruff. Unfortunately, this uber-talented and uber-hatable Connecticut team got the wakeup call they needed a round too early.
I for one am just happy we've come this far. For the first time since I can remember, there is virtually ZERO pressure on UK in the tournament, and what better way to either bow out, or march on, then by taking a shot at #1. I'm equally amazed that this is the first ever matchup between the schools, until I remember how much Calhoun hates to leave Storrs. Here's to hoping for a clean, entertaining 40-minutes of ball tomorrow.