Early in the season, the Minneapolis Mavericks (Marauders to the loyal fans) lost a game to a division II juco out of North Dakota by 3 points.  Last Saturday night, we lost the NJCAA div III national title to a team out of Dallas by 1 point, finishing this stellar year national runners up with a record of 33-2, those two games lost by a total of four points.

Four points.

In a season in which we outscored our opponents by 814 pts over the course of 35 games, only four points separated this team from a perfect record.

But it was only one point that made the difference between Champs and also-rans.

March Sadness.



There were a bunch of us here, watching the webcast.  In addition to me and Josie, Pam, Steve, Phanie, Patty and Kathy (the Lady Gator) were here, eating chicken wings and meatballs and sending all our good vibes towards the east.  We were a bit worried when we saw that the Thunderducks (our opponents) had a record of 13-19 going into the championship game.  Whatever happened to this team during their season, they were surging now.  (Turns out the T-ducks didn't lose 19 games, they had to forfeit 12 due to ineligible players.)  We were far more concerned to see that our guys seemed snake bit at the line.  All season long, free throws were one of our major strengths.  All of our guys are reliable at the line.  Yet during the championship game we were only 7/19.  That made all the difference.

It was a very close game all the way through.  During the last five minutes or so, we were sitting in view of the computer, just staring in silence in the at the screen, catching our breath or sighing in relief every time the screen refreshed and a new score appeared.  At one point, Steve shifted in his chair and Josie yelled "Don't move!  Nobody move!"

Doesn't that sound like a fun party?

We were down 56-58 with 3 seconds to play when Cortez Wallace went to the line to shoot three.  All season long, you would've bet your mortgage on Cortez at the line and you'd have won.  It should've been his moment to shine; to grab the national title single handedly.  But this is March and anything can happen.  Cortez missed two out of three and time ran out.  The screen refreshed for the final time with 0:00 on the clock and the score 57-58 etched in the record books.

"Hit refresh.  Maybe that's wrong." Pam said, two minutes into the silence that engulfed our incredulous crowd.


Some twenty hours later, the bus pulled up to school.  A small but enthusiastic crowd of fans was there, complete with signs, to welcome the team home.  They won 33 games for us this year.  They deserved a parade.

A handful of us adjourned to the bar and grill across the street to talk over the season, the tournament, the game.

Earlier in the day, I had spoken to Katie, who is out of town for spring break.  She hadn't talked to her Dad yet about the loss.  She didn't think he was ready to put things in perspective yet.

"I don't think Dad's meant to win a national title just yet," she told me.  "If he did, he might be tempted to retire.  But winning isn't what his program is about.  Winning is just a by product.  His program is about giving those guys who play for him a chance.  He gives them another chance to make something out of their lives.  He's a bridge out of the ghetto for some of those kids and until there's another one, he can't retire."

Sitting around at Joe's Garage, I told Jay what his daughter had said.  He got verklempt.  He was pretty wasted.  Then he said that made his day and he sort of passed out.  I guess the Labatt's we had at Joe's didn't mix too well with the motion sickness prescription. 


He and Zack are down at the dome now, all decked out in Kansas Jayhawks wear.