Here's to the losers. Here's to the kids who cried. Here's to the dreamers and to the dreams that died.
Ah, we love to toast winners. Players are so cute when they are young and champions. We love them as they smile and dance and roll around in the glee of the moment. We like to watch coaches bounce across the court, their fists thrust toward the heavens, their faces frozen in ecstasy. We love to see players cut the nets, listen to the bands play and feel the warmth of the moment.And so the tendency is to look to the ones still on the stage, for Duke and Michigan State and UConn and Ohio State. We reserve most of our attention, most of our applause, for the last team standing.
But here's to the moments that brought us to this point. Here's to the swirl of players and performances and passions, like brush strokes on canvas until the artwork is almost complete. Here's to the ones who stumbled along the way.
Here's to the tears. Here's to Erick Barkley, the St. John's freshman who dribbled away his team's last chance. Here's to the way he tugged his jersey up over his face to shield his pain. Here's to his coach, Mike Jarvis, who had the grace to put his arm around his player, to assure him this, too, will pass.
Here's to Florida guard Eddie Shannon, collapsed on a floor in Phoenix, halfway between realizing his last-second shot was off and not wanting to believe it. Here is to two glassy-eyed guards from Kansas, Ryan Robertson and Jeff Boschee, as they walked off the court after losing to Kentucky. Here's to Gonzaga's team, in its final huddle when UConn center Jake Voskuhl approached to congratulate the Bulldogs and to the way they engulfed Voskuhl and brought him inside.
Here's to the players. Here's to Wally Szczerbiak of the University of Miami (Ohio), who showed us how nice it is to visit his world. Here's to Scott Padgett of Kentucky, the best darned shooter in the final minute of play the NCAA has seen in some time. Here's to Scott Pohlman, the Auburn kid they call "Opie," and Harold "The Show" Arceneaux of Weber State. Here's to Chico and Bootsy and Pepe and Shawnta. Here's to Casey Calvary riding to the rescue, even if he went over the back along the way.
Here's to the coaches. Here's to Tom Davis, who gave a better deal than he got. Here's to Steve Alford, pushing Southwest Missouri State to the Sweet 16 and his career to the Big Ten. Here's to Gene Keady and Tubby Smith and Dan Monson. Here's to Nolan Richardson and Cliff Ellis and Charlie Coles. Here's to Roy Williams, not bothering to mask his pain. Here's to Rick Majerus, who managed to quote Lenny Bruce. Here's to Billy Donovan and Leonard Hamilton, two coaches who believe you can play basketball in the state of Florida.
Here's to the moments. Here's to Kentucky wearing ribbons in memory of high school recruit John Stewart, who died just before their tournament opener. Here's to John Chaney, embracing Rasheed Brokenborough in the moments when defeat was a certainty. Here's to Brent Wright quietly answering every question about the traveling violation that led to his Florida team's downfall.
Here's to the lessons. Here's to teaching us where Weber State is and how to pronounce Gonzaga and how to spell Szczerbiak. Here's to painted faces and flying cheerleaders and to those tattoos that are spelled correctly.
Here's to all of them. Perhaps the neatest thing about the NCAA Tournament is the way it honors its dead. No one is happy about losing the semifinals in the NBA. No one gets a contract extension for making the Sweet 16 in the NFL playoffs. Most sports thumb their nose if you lose the title game.
Why are the NCAAs different? Perhaps because of marketing, perhaps because television has hung these nifty labels (Sweet 16, Elite Eight, Final Four) on the tournament.
And maybe it's because we can do a close-up and a freeze frame and see the joy and sorrow. Because we can see how good it feels to win a prize, and how tough it is to fall short.
So here's to the beaten. Here's to broken hearts. Here's to the early exits and to supporting parts.