We give you the words of Ian McCulloch, lead singer of Echo and the Bunnymen, who sang, “Everybody’s got their own good reason/Why their favorite season is their favorite season/Winter winners and those summer sons/Are good for everyone, good for everyone/Spring has sprung/And autumns so well done
Starting Five
1. Opening night of the NCAA tournament (like many curmudgeons, we refuse to refer to it as the first round). While Marv Albert and Steve Kerr don’t regularly call college hoops, give credit where it’s duo (yes, I meant that). They called the game for TruTV, which as Marc Isenberg points out, was once CourtTV, so there’s a basketball connection after all. Solid job, and Marv, as long as you’re going to wear a rug, why not wear a blond one? Bully for you, even if it does remind me a little too much of Javier Bardem in Skyfall…
I make a joke on Twitter about North Carolina A&T being a favorite of dyslexics, and naturally Steve Rushin devises a superior joke: “There’s no ‘can’t’ in “NCA&T’ (I’m now being told there is)”…. Matthew Dellevadova –who is not a Russian female tennis player, despite that surname –shot 5 of 7 from beyond the arc and scored 22 points to lead the St. Mary’s Gaels past MTSU (“There is no ‘MUST’ in MTSU?); Dellevadova shot 1 of 18 outside the arc in the WCC tourney, but he appears to have rediscovered his long-range accuracy. If the NBA doesn’t draft him, Kim Jong Un will.
2. Nuggets stun Thunder in OKC, but even farther out west –and you probably did not hear about it — the Kings shocked the Clippers. Denver had a nice litte 12-game win streak going, but after an overtime win at Chicago the night before, this scribe gave them no chance of extending it against the league’s second-best team with the best home fans. Wrong. Denver, which has now outscored opponents in the paint for 50 consecutive games, silenced the Thunder, 114-104. Meanwhile at Arco Sleep Train Arena, (checking to see if “Sleep Train” is the title of a Counting Crows song), the Sacramento Kings outscored the Clips by 23 points in the final 11:17 to win 116-101. LOL City had an eight-point lead early in the final period and then suddenly the became the Robot when Dr. Smith would pull the power battery from his back side on Lost In Space. Bad loss, Vinny. Bad loss.
3. Explaining North Korea’s sabre-rattling via a YouTube video from the recently completed SXSW Conference (which, like the Bigfoot Conference, is better than anything Jim Delany has come up with…you may have noticed by now that I have little respect for Jim Delany). Anyway, I could get all Fareed Zakaria on you and attempt to explain the tensions between Pyongyang and Seoul, the Dennis Rodman factor, the imagined attack by the North Koreans on Washington, D.C. (soon to become a Jerry Bruckheimer flick), the dynamics that led Major Houlihan to have an affair with Frank Burns when it was obvious she had the Hot Lips for Hawkeye (because she didn’t have enough self-confidence, that’s why), but really, this is what’s going on and this is what will happen if Kim Jong Un pushes it too far.
4. So Notre Dame begins spring practice this morning and head coach Brian Kelly informs the media that the team’s best player, Stephon Tuitt, will miss much of spring practice to nurse a “sports hernia.” Have you noticed how much more manly an injury/illness sounds if you just use “sports” as a prefix? For instance, “Last night I had a magnficent bout of sports diarrhea?” See?
5. President Obama speaks to ESPN’s Andy Katz –apparently Andy told POTUS what questions he would ask before they went on-air and then did NOT pull a switcheroo (Jim Boeheim may have contributed reporting to this item) — to provide his annual tournament bracket. I like this tradition and let’s face it, having Mitt Romney break down the National Collegiate Equestrian Association national championship that takes place later in April (I’m not even making that up) does not quite pack the same punch.
Obama’s Final Four? Louisville, Indiana, Ohio State and Florida, with Pitino’s crew cutting down the nets. Shouldn’t someone be dispatched to obtain Marco Rubio’s response to these picks?
Reserves
Belatedly, my John Stockton story. This, too, comes from my infamous trek across America with Adam Duerson and Jamie Lowe in March of 2004. Our mission: to witness — as fans as many NCAA games as possible. I know. Tough gig. So it’s an off day –we had just watched a women’s tournament game from the lovely haven that is Missoula, Mont., the night before — and we decide to visit Gonzaga. The Zags had just been bounced from the tournament two days earlier.
It was Jamie’s day to write, and so she set off in search of Blake Stepp. Adam and I decided to find Jack & Dan’s Tavern, the saloon that John Stockton’s father owns. It’s a sunny, quiet Tuesday afternoon. An inconspicuous day.
So there we are, nursing our expense-report beers, when who should stroll in wearing sneakers, jeans and an Izod Lacoste collared shirt, but the NBA’s all-time assists and steals leader. He’s got a pair of keys in his hand and he hands them off to his dad. As if he’s just any other man visiting his pop at his place of business.
Adam agitates. “I’m going to go ask for his autograph!”
“No! No! No!” I beg. “You CANNOT do that. John Stockton is notoriously private. He’d never even do an interview with SI. He ducked Steve Rushin for an entire bonus piece, inspiring Rushin to go all ‘Green Eggs and Ham’ on him in print about how he was unable to be interviewed (He would not, could not, in the bar; he would not, could not, in his car/He would not, could not, at the gym/We would not, could not, speak to him). You will blow our cover, man!”
This story is about to improve.
About then, a bartender (not Mr. Stockton) approaches us all folksy like. “So, you guys visiting from out of town?”
“Um…yes,” I reply.
“Cool. So what do you do?”
“We’re accountants,” I say. “Traveling across the country on a road trip.”
“Accountants,” he replies. “That’s interesting. You guys are able to take a road trip in the middle of tax season?”
This may have been my all-time Costanza-est moment.
“Yes,” I say.
At this point he knows I am lying. I know that he knows I am lying. He knows that I know that he knows I am lying. It’s the O.K. Corral, with duplicity. We just stare one another down, and finally he leaves.
Adam never got the autograph. We drank up and left.
Jamie phones to tell us that she is having absolutely no luck finding Blake Stepp. Adam and I walk down the street to a very cool, intimate 50s style diner to grab some lunch. Who is in there, eating all by himself and looking as if someone just shot his dog? Blake Stepp.
It was that kind of odyssey.
Remote Patrol
KKK: Beneath the Hood
Discovery Channel, 8 p.m.
Let’s face it: You don’t know the name of a single player on any of the four schools playing tonight in Dayton (or at least I don’t). And so to watch basketball tonight is akin to having a turkey sandwich on the eve of Thanksgiving. So why not trade hoops for hoods and learn a little somethin’ about one of the darker (irony intended) organizations in the history of the U.S.A.? No idea whether they will explore the eye hole question that was broached in Django: Unchained.