Sweet and Sour Sixteen

Notwithstanding the way it ended on Friday night, 2009 was a pretty good basketball season. On balance, as they say. A few great road wins early on, that helped raise our RPI enormously, and gave everyone a sense that this was a team with promise, unlike the past few years. Then there was that magical run through the Big East tourney, which finally fell short when the Orange ran out of steam in the second half of what was really the fifth game in four nights. Not to mention that, despite losing, they played credibly against a Louisville team that has looked downright scary at times in the NCAAs, which are beginning to look like the second Big East tourney of the spring. Maybe if we had played Oklahoma in the Garden, our second home court, we would have fared better.

There were other, less tangible things that made the season enjoyable. I liked how they shared the ball. In the first Big East tourney game against Seton Hall, Cuse tied a tournament record for single game assists. Everyone recognized Flynn for his creative dishing, especially on the break, but I also liked Rautins and his no look passes. Headphones next to me in the Dome incessantly hates on Rautins, and I have to concede that he threw a number of those passes away, all year long, because the big men weren't expecting them, because they had too much zip, or sometimes because they were off the mark. But I'd much rather see a turnover result from an entry pass than from someone dribbling the ball off his shoe as he tried to penetrate among three defenders. I liked how the team didn't finger point, how guys never seemed to get down on each other. I've noticed that even among teams advancing into the late rounds of the NCAAs, when something goes wrong, guys are quick to get on their teammates, and I almost never saw that happen among the Orange. I liked how hard PH2 worked all year, even when he wasn't scoring, and even when he ceded the star's role, first to Flynn, and then to Devo. I liked how KO came into his own, got some confidence, hustled every minute he was on the court, and once a game put an opponent on the floor with one of his Belgian blocks. He became a dome favorite, and it was great that his folks came all the way across the Atlantic for senior night. I liked how AO ate up Luke Harangody, as the Cuse ran Notre Dame out of the dome. That alone almost makes for a great season.

But there was also a frustrating aspect to the season, because the team would play so inconsistently. Some of that stemmed from the fact the offense relied on outside shooting, and when everyone was off, when no one could hit threes, the offense went stagnant. That's to be expected on occasion. But more aggravating were the games when the team played lackadaisically. When they threw those soft, casual, telegraphed passes that everyone in the dome could see coming. When they played down to the level of competition, or got way behind because they just didn't come out of the locker room with any focus or intensity.

The Oklahoma debacle was foreshadowed by the first half of the Rutgers game, when we scored only 19 points. They managed to pull that one out, not just because Rutgers was lousy, but because they played well in the second half. But we had another hint of what was coming in the second half of Stephen F. Austin. Same thing. No scoring; tons of turnovers; playing carelessly. We survived that game because the first half had built a big lead, and also because Stephen F. Austin (just to say the name finishes the thought) really wasn't very good.

But when they went into a shell against Oklahoma and Blake Griffin, they dug a hole out of which they could not climb. (Notice that even though I mixed my metaphors, I still managed not to finish that one with a preposition. Churchill once said, in response to someone criticizing his grammar, "This is the kind of nonsense up with which I will not put.") Orange hit no threes in the entire first half, as Oklahoma's Crocker had a career game, hitting six of his first eight threes. Recall that Cuse beat Memphis early on because Memphis could not shoot over the 2-3. The first half stayed close for a while, because Oklahoma was committing a million turnovers. Maybe better shooting from us, or no threes from Crocker would have made them panicky (think back to 2003), but the Sooners had their confidence, and they had Griffin inside. And then, there was a time spanning the end of the first half and the start of the second half when Oklahoma outscored the Orange 25-5. Game over. Tournament over. Season over.

Boeheim is now one win short of 800. With Jardine, Wes Johnson, young Mr. Triche, and some highly regarded big man coming in, next year should be just as exciting, with or without Flynn. Honestly. I'd love to see him return; he really makes the team go. But if he doesn't return, we'll still have two solid point guards, more experienced big men, and at least one, probably two outside threats. Maybe we can even run guys in off the bench for a change.

But the big question is whether I'll be back in Section 108. I don't have time to get into the details right now, but let's just say I've become resentful of how Dr. Gross has been breaking into my bank accounts. But whether it's in the Dome, or just on TV, I'm looking forward to 2010. Go Orange, and thanks for a lively and entertaining season.

Everybody Hates on Devo

I read that Jonny Flynn is on the cover of a regional issue of SI this week, and my first thought, of course is that the famous SI jinx will land on us this Friday night. Let's hope not. But ever since the Big East tourney, there's a veritable shower of love for Flynn, and his big heart, and all that stuff. I like Flynn; don't get me wrong; but he's been demonstating a big head as much as a big heart lately, and I really don't like that 'offense', if you want to call it that, where we go four across the baseline, and then Flynn drives into traffic, looking to draw fouls, but more often drawing blocks. I preferwhen he plays within himself, and doesn't try to take over the game.

Meanwhile, for all the love shown Flynn, his backcourt mate is the object of almost universal disrespect, contempt and hate. Writers are hating on Devendorf's chest thumping, on his incessant jabbering, on his posing after threeballs, and even on his tatoos. Ibetthey didn't like when he climbed on the scorers' table after sinking theapparent game winner against UConn. The most aggravating aspect of all this hate is the self righteous sanctimonius hating about that nonincident with some gal who was the exgirlfriend of one or more players, and who ran off to see her lawyer in Long Island as soon as she concluded her encounter with Eric in the early morning hours. We often celebrate hating on this page, and maybe I wouldn't be a big fan of Devo is he were playing for Georgetown (he kind of looks like he would have fit right into the late-80s mentality at Georgetown, when JT was propagating a culture of thuggery), but I don't think he's getting the respect he deserves.

Check out these numbers. During the post-season run (and isn't that the most important time to step up?), and setting aside the Stephen F. Austin game, where not just Devo, but most everyone played awful, he has averaged 21 points a game, shooting just under 50% from three-point range, and committing only eight turnovers total in five games. In the sixty-one minutes he played against UConn, he had a single turnover. Not just that, but think of the big shots he made in the second round; almost single-handedly turning back the run that Arizona State went on. And these big shots don't even include the UConn gamewinner, which the refs waived off.

Another thing is that all his teammates stick up for Devo. They talk about how unselfish he is, and it's seems that he doesn't mind ceding the spotlight to Flynn. There doesn't look to be any competition about whose team this is, or who's in charge, or any of that nonsense. Everyone says that Devo is content to drill threes and do his jabbering at the opposition. So while the rest of the country is hating on Devo, I want to take the time to show him some love here, regardless of how things turn out this weekend. Go Eric. Go Orange.

Sweet Sixteen

There's another week of basketball around here. It's been five years, but the Orange are back to the Sweet Sixteen. ASU made me nervous, because they had the potential to shoot over the top of our zone. When teams can drill threes all day, that's typically a big problem for the 2-3. But even though we left that Serbian kid alone too often, allowing him a career high, the zone was very active most of the day. Looking back over this late season resurgence, it really has been fueled by the defense. In most games that ended in regulation (three of the last nine wins have come in overtime), we've held the opponent under seventy. Same thing today, even though Arizona State hit thirteen threes.

Plus, Rautins and Devo were hitting from the outside today, with eight threes between them. That was a welcome change from Friday, when no one could buy a three. Turnovers were way down in the first half, but second half got sloppy again. If they're to have any chance against Oklahoma, they just can't commit unforced turnovers. So here's the formula for next weekend. Active D, plus a bunch of threes, minus turnovers, equals half a chance to advance to the regional finals.

Here are a few more numbers to think about. Five Big East teams are still playing in the tourney; and had Marquette managed to hang to their lead for another couple minutes, it would have been six. Six of the Orange losses this past season came at the hands of the other four Big East teams that are still playing. Today was the 799th win for Boeheim, and by my calculations, if Cuse should manage to beat Oklahoma next Friday, that will be the eight-hundredth win for the coach. Pretty impressive for a guy from Lyons.

No matter what happens from this point on, it's been a good season by any measure. The team was exciting, even if they were often exasperating. After a mid-season swoon, they rebounded nicely, and had a great run through the Big East Tourney. I figured that the best we could reasonably expect this year was sweet sixteen, and whaddya know? We're going to the sweet sixteen.

And by the way, Mike was in the house for both games in Miami. Too bad we couldn't get it organized to get all of us down there for the weekend. But Mike, let's hear about it. Or why not post a couple photos? And next weekend, Go Orange.

Surviving and Advancing the Ugly Way

Here are some stats from this afternoon's opening round game: twenty-one turnovers, and only twenty-one second half points. 2 for 16 from three-point range, including 0 for 6 on the part of Rautins, who played 28 minutes and scored no points, as in zero points. Nothing. Devo wasn't that much better, going three for 15 from the field, and committing six turnovers. That's two turnovers for every made basket. The Orange totally dominated on the boards, (we really need to give some props here to PH2, who had 16 boards, and who probably played harder than everyone else combined, despite not scoring that much), ended up with a half decent shooting percentage, notwithstanding their inability to sink any threes; yet they couldn't outscore this 14 seed in the second half. Stephen F. Who?

If was the worst half of basketball since the first half of the Rutgers game. Remember that night? We had schlepped into Cuse for a 9 o'clock tipoff, and when they were down 20-19 at the half, I was wondering why had I done this? I was going to stay up until 1 in the morning, and drag my ass around all next day, to see that? Fortunately, they played with intensity in the second half of that final home game, ran away from Rutgers, and continued to play with that same focus all the way through the Big east tourney. But today, they reverted to their early season practice of playing down to the level of their opponent, making the final score a lot closer than it should have been.

Still, they advanced. And not all of the high seeds managed to do that. Wake got beaten by the same Cleveland State team that beat the Orange on that last second sixty foot heave. And not every two and three seed looked great the past two days. So in that sense, we're glad they managed to make it to the second round. Jimmy Valvano's mantra for the tourney, which has by now become a cliche, was "Survive and Advance." That's what the Orange did today, winning their first NCAA tournament game since the spring of 2004. As I recall, their last victory was over Maryland, when they made it to the sweet sixteen. That's my goal for this year, so one more win and we'll be there. Check back on Sunday. And go Orange.

My Book Report

DISCLAIMER: This posting has nothing to do with the usual mannymontaigne topics. Danny lent me a couple books, and I promised him that I would critique the one I read most recently:
Outliers by Malcolm Gladwell. In all likelihood, unless you've read Gladwelll, you could care less about this posting. So instead of reading this posting, just go have a glass of Highland Park. Either that, or watch film about Stephen F. Austin, so we're ready for Friday night.

The subtitle of Malcolm Gladwell’s Outliers is, “The Story of Success”, and Gladwell’s thesis is summed up in the concluding pages of the book: “To build a better world, we need to replace the patchwork of lucky breaks and arbitrary advantages that today determine success -- the fortunate birthdates and the happy accidents of history -- with a society that provides opportunities for all.”(p. 268) To oversimplify this book, Gladwell attempts to prove that success is not the result of ability, or hard work, or initiative, or apparently any combination of the above, but rather comes from being in the right place at the right time. That and ten thousand hours of practice.

Gladwell is half right. He’s right when he attempts to show that there is no direct correlation between IQ, or ability, and success. He’s also right when he argues that opportunity can raise statistical performance across a given population – say inner city students. But once again, even though Gladwell writes an entertaining, engaging, and often thought provoking book, he can’t synthesize his various observations into any coherent theory. He errs in this book for two reasons. First, his methodology, if you want to call it that, is flawed. He really never thinks through his conclusions. He doesn’t look at them from every possible angle, to see if his propositions really make sense. Second, on a more substantive level, he is completely wrong when he tries to take talent, or genius, completely out of the equation. In Gladwell’s world, we can all be Mozart or Einstein; we just need a level playing field and an equal opportunity to get ahead.

Let’s talk methodology first. Gladwell cites what he calls the ten-thousand-hour rule for the proposition that great musicians (the Beatles) or great software developers (Bill Gates) became great for one simple reason: they practiced for ten thousand hours. Now really, all Gladwell is doing is arguing a general rule or law, on the basis of a couple anecdotal examples. Mozart supposedly became a great composer only after he had been writing music for 10,000 hours. Bill Joy and Bill Gates founded Sun and Microsoft only after they wrote code for 10,000 hours. And the Beatles only got great once they had played in Hamburg for years, seven hours a day, for a total of, yes, 10,000 hours. So then is Gladwell saying that any schlemiel will become a success if he only works at his craft for 10,000 hours?

There are a number of ways that Gladwell failed to think through this proposition. The first and most obvious is that for every example he selects, there are numerous counterexamples. In music, what about Dylan, who wrote Hard Rain and Blowin in the Wind, when he was only 21, barely a year out of Minnesota? How about Isaac Newton, who invented calculus and discovered the laws of motion when he was a young man? I mean, how does one discover something entirely new, such as calculus, if the ten-thousand-hour rule is really a rule? A second flaw in Gladwell’s analysis is that his exemplars were not the only ones who practiced for 10,000 hours. Gates and Joy were not the only teenagers fiddling with computers day and night, whether at Michigan or MIT or any of the other schools that had computer labs; and the Beatles were not the only band that played day and night for years on end. What elevated Gates and John Lennon from the others? Third, and this is a defect in Gladwell’s thinking in all of his books, is that he fails to consider causation. Do certain violinists become prodigies because they practice for 10,000 hours? Or do these performers practice incessantly, because of their innate ability? By far the worst example of Gladwell’s defective thinking is his quote (from some other purported thinker) about how Mozart didn’t compose any masterworks until his 271st composition at the age of twenty-one. And so the fact that Mozart didn’t compose Figaro when he was ten years old proves he wasn’t a genius?

I agree with Gladwell when he posits that success results from a constellation of factors, including opportunity, accident, being in the right place at the right time. All of the computer geeks who became jillionaires happened along just as PCs or the internet were about to blow up. The earlier geniuses like John Von Neumann, who is often credited with conceiving computers, never had a chance to turn their ideas into any practical application that could, in turn, generate any financial success for them. So in order to capitalize on computer hardware or software, one had to wait another generation or more, for the precise time when mainframe computers had become more accessible, and microchips were making it possible to put all that circuitry in a small box that could sit on the countertop. I disagree with Gladwell though, when he confuses talent with success. His book too often measures success in purely material terms, which I suppose isn’t a surprise from someone who is undoubtedly a deeply committed Marxist. For Gladwell, success is material or popular success. Kenny G has probably sold a thousand times more records than Ornette Coleman. So what? Who was more of a success, and by what measure?

Gladwell’s biggest problem though is that he is philosophically opposed to genius. It runs counter to his basic philosophy that we could all have been Mozart or Shakespeare if only we’d had the same opportunities they had. And by the way, what opportunities did Shakespeare have? Or Socrates, what advantages did he have in life? And Gladwell’s chapter on Chinese agriculture and its relationship to math is a prefect example of his refusal to recognize genius. Apparently, in order to grow rice, one has to be careful, and exact. Add that to the fact that it’s real easy to say numbers in the Chinese language, and one finds two cultural reasons why the Chinese are better at math than Americans. OK? So then why weren’t geometry, and algebra, and calculus invented in China by the children of this precise rice-growing culture? Why wasn’t Archimedes Chinese? In fact, what great mathematician was Chinese? I know there are a million Chinese kids at MIT these days, and I’m sure cultural factors play a strong part of that, just as they did when there were so many Jewish kids at MIT and Harvard a generation ago. But statistical achievement is different in many ways from the breakthroughs that have changed the way we understood the world.

In the end, one would like to root for Gladwell, and to imagine all the other great writers, composers, inventors, thinkers, lawyers and hockey players we’d have, if all the world had the same opportunities. But think of this: one of Gladwell’s examples of success stories is the tale of Joe Flom, who became a fabulously successful lawyer, after being raised as a child of immigrants living in New York’s tenements. Joe Flom, and other lawyers who made a fortune fighting hostile takeovers weren’t any more talented than anyone else; nor any smarter. They just had the good fortune to grow up in the tenements of New York’s lower east side, in the depths of the depression. Talk about being born with a silver spoon in your mouth. Danny, really, what are you doing hanging around with all these pinkos?

Friday Night in Miami

Earlier today, as the brackets were being announced, I kept looking at the fours and fives. G-Man predicted a four, and I thought four or five, no real difference. I knew the RPI had climbed through the Big East tournament; it was up to 11 before the Louisville game. But I have to admit I was more than a little surprised as I saw they would end up a three.

More than that, I was elated to see that the final bracket in the South, where the three and six seeds would open, was to be played in Miami, giving Mike a chance to see the Orange go dancing. I jumped on the computer and sent an e-mail to Lew, asking if he could find tickets for Mike. "Done." was the reply that came back. A few weeks ago, we had talked about getting the family together in Miami that weekend, just for a getaway. I figured we could all watch together, in Mike's living room, as we had last May, when Bron and Pierce lit up the garden in the Celtics Game seven win over the Cavs. But I also figured we'd be watching them play in Boise Idaho, or Kansas City. No way did I ever figure they'd be playing in downtown Miami. Anyway, it's too bad our schedules didn't allow us to get away. But I hope we'll be calling Mike's cell phone every five minutes, starting next Friday night.

I think the three seed was, in part, the committee's apology to Boeheim for overlooking the Orange over the past couple years. Really, when you saw the records of some of the teams that got in with 10, 11 and 12 seeds, it's hard to figure how Cuse got shut out, especially two years ago. Or maybe they were just rewarding him for playing a tougher schedule this year. Of course, had we played the usual schedule of New York schools, we'd have picked up two other tournament teams, Siena and Binghamton. Or maybe they just deserved the three seed; after all they've beaten a one and a two, both away from the Dome.

So the post-season starts on Friday, and they can't take this first round game for granted. I know they've been all over Sportscenter for several days; but all year long, they've had the ability to play up or down to the precise level of their competiton. But from now on, they've got to play every minute with the same intensity they displayed through all seven overtime periods. That, along with fewer turnovers, and a few more rebounds, and continued strong shooting from Rautins and Devo; and maybe then we'll be talking tournament a week from now. Go Orange.

Wide Open Field

I am officially proclaiming that this year’s tournament field is wide open without any clear favorites any more. A week ago, it seemed that the number one seeds had already been selected, and that one could practically pencil them in for the final four. But in this week of conference championships, seven of the ten top-ranked teams have been beaten, with a couple tournament championships yet to be played. UConn and Pitt were both expected to draw number one seeds, but Cuse and West Virginia knocked them off their respective perches. Same for UNC, which now looks vulnerable without Lawson. Memphis will undoubtedly draw a number one, but if they have a single game where they shoot as poorly as when Cuse beat them back in December, they can pack their bags for the trip back home. Duke? Bunch of bitches.

This March has just begun, and it’s already shaping up as one of those extended sleepless seasons, reminiscent of Octobers past. College basketball games usually finish in under two hours, and unless you draw the late game on the west coast, you can expect a normal night’s sleep. Not so the past couple nights. Cuse has played the late game for three straight nights, and as every hoops fan on the planet knows, played well into the early morning hours on Friday, in the epic six overtime game with UConn. Too bad we don’t play the entire post-season in Madison Square Garden.

I’m predicting a five-seed, maybe even a four, in the tournament. I figured them for a six after they beat Marquette. But the UConn victory has to move them up at least one notch. I checked this morning and their RPI was 13 after the first round of the Big East, and apparently before considering the last two wins. Strength of schedule was in the top ten: quality wins over Memphis, Kansas, Marquette and UConn, all on the road. There’s no real difference between a four and a five, and either one gives them about the same shot to make the sweet sixteen. That’s what I’d really like to see this year.

I recently chided PH for losing faith in the team, and he recanted, made his penance, and returned to the fold. Now, I have my own confession to make. I had been down on KO early in the season, claiming that we played four on five when he was on the floor. I recall the South Florida game, where he missed six layups, and continually hurt the offense. But he’s brought his game to a new level (that’s the most meaningless sports metaphor ever). Actually, he was the unsung hero the past couple nights, especially with our otherwise weak rebounding making us vulnerable. His defense is good, mainly because he hustles all the time. He was stepping into passing lanes last night, and keeping guys from getting open looks in the corner. Plus, he’s managed to perfect those hard fouls that we love, the Belgian blocks. No more layups when KO decides to foul; and somehow he keeps the opponent from hitting the floor. Those were fun, but we can’t risk any ejections for flagrant fouls. I know Flynn has been getting the ink; along with the shooters, Devo and Rautins. But KO has been solid. So here, for all the world to see, I make my apology for disrespecting him.

I have low expectations for tonight’s game. Louisville is very good; they run that man up and down the court, and will harass the hell out of our tired ball handlers. And I recall that their shooters are good enough to put up points against the zone. But really, all I hope for is no injuries. I don’t care if we win the Big East. All I want is a healthy roster next week. Go Orange.

The Mutton Chop and the Garden Party

As the Big East tourney was getting underway, our family convened a block away, at Keen’s, for no particular reason aside from the great food and whisky. It was really just a coincidence, but I was scheduled to argue an appeal the same week that Mike was coming to New York for a moot court competition, and John was planning to be in the City for work. So what better place to meet?

We struggled to find a spot at the bar, as the place was mobbed, even on a Tuesday night. But once we commandeered a couple seats, and requisitioned the scotch listing, we settled in on a ten-year old Arran malt. I know what you’re thinking: why not Rosebank? We always drink Rosebank at Keens. The unfortunate answer to that question is that Keens no longer has any Rosebank behind the bar. Can you imagine? Fortunately, we still have a few bottles in the family, and can partake on special occasions, say if the Cuse were to make it to the Sweet Sixteen. I think that might merit a taste of Rosebank. But our favorite lowland malt, and in fact, one of our very favorite whiskies of all times, can longer be found at this venerable establishment.

So anyway, Arran is a new distillery, on the island which bears the same name (an eponymous whisky?), but has a character much closer to a Highland malt than anything we’d usually associate with the islands. Partly, that’s because the whisky is young; but more than that, there’s no peat, no smoke, no brine in Arran. When I first became enamored of malts, Ben sold me a bottle of “Arran Malt”, which lacked any age statement, and was thought to be about five years old. It was very clean and crisp, even lighter than, say, a Glenmorangie. This ten-year old offering had more flavor and more body, perhaps closer to an Aberlour or an Edradour. The difference between this bottling, and the malt I tasted several years ago suggests to me that, once the folks at Arran can begin selling stuff that’s been fully aged in the barrels, their malt will be well worth tasting. As it was, even though a bit young, it was enjoyed by everyone.

Our second taste was a Port Ellen, for the simple reason that there are very few places on earth where one can now taste Port Ellen, the distillery having been closed for well over a decade. Joe wanted to sell us a bottle of Port Ellen this winter for upwards of $400 (a bit rich, even for malt lovers such as ourselves). I can’t recall the exact age of this bottling (by Signatory), but it was somewhere in the mid-to-late twenties. I’ve waxed eloquent on Port Ellen before, as it’s featured on the Great Scots flight. Being able to taste Port Ellen is one of the reasons we love going to Keens. This isn’t some fashionable malt; and Keens isn’t soaking its customers for the typically generous pour. Rather this is a gem of an island malt, no longer being distilled, hard as hell to find, and reasonably priced. John commented about how we love Keens because it’s all go, and no show.

Speaking of which, when we sat down to dine, later to be joined by Casey and Shahed, we ordered the porterhouse for two, and the mutton chop. The mutton chop is Keen's signature dish, an enormous lamb chop, easily the size of a two-pound steak. (Those two dishes fed five people; we don’t count Casey as she remains a vegetarian, despite our best efforts.) The back of Keen’s menu tells the story of how, when Keens catered to a male-only clientele, some gal stormed into the restaurant one night and demanded to be served the mutton chop. I can understand why, although I confess that my favorite dish there remains the porterhouse.

And after dinner, we shared, not surprisingly, the after-dinner flight, which included Edradour Ballechin #1 and Talisker 25. I won’t reprise my previous posting on the after-dinner flight, except to say that, if you’re a whisky lover, I can’t imagine a better evening than a Keen’s porterhouse followed by that flight of whiskies. I mean, who drinks Port Ellen, Ballechin and Talisker 25 on a Tuesday night, for no good reason other than the fact that the whole family was together? Really.

Meanwhile, we didn’t get to see the Orange on Wednesday at the Garden, because they weren’t tipping off until 9:30, the last game of the day. I saw the end on ESPN 360, and Cuse romped in the second half. Devo was on fire; the team shot almost sixty percent, while taking a generous number of threes. Harris had a quiet game, but the rest of the front-court played well. And they tied a Big East Tournament record for assists in a single game. In fact, had Boeheim not emptied the bench with about three or four minutes to play, I’m sure they would have broken that record. Tonight will be tough against UConn, but I won’t be troubled if we get knocked out. For one thing, we’ll be better rested for the first round of the next tournament. And also, I recall that in 2003, it was one and done, losing to UConn in the second round, and that was the last loss of the season, to be followed by six straight in the NCAAs. Not that I’m expecting a repeat of 2003, but I wouldn’t mind seeing us play into the round of sixteen or even eight.

Maybe next year, I’ll have enough time to stick around in NY, and enjoy the festivities at the Garden. But this year I was content to remain a few blocks away, and there to enjoy my family, in a more hospitable setting, and with far better food and beverages.

Dancing Again

Two weeks ago, after the Orange came up short against Villanova, missing three threes in the final seconds, it looked like we might be buying NIT tickets again. That would have made three straight years without a tourney bid. And it would also have meant that PH2 would yet to have played in the NCAAs. But three easy victories, followed by yesterday’s road win at Marquette guarantees that Cuse will get a bid this year, regardless of what happens in the Garden this week. The other PH, the one we all know and love, had given up on the Orange, and had written off the season. But last night he apologized, and admitted the error of his ways. For his penance, he promises to wear Orange underwear and pajamas all of March. In addition, every day for a month he must watch a tape of the Cuse-OK State game from the 2003 second round. That was the game when Melo and company came from 18 points down to continue their run toward the title. Now I don’t think this year’s bunch are as gritty as 2003, but they did come back from nine down yesterday.

Other good signs were that Jackson had a strong game; he hasn’t been playing well of late. And that Rautins continued the recent hot streak that began during the second half against Rutgers. We need his shooting. And we need to keep the turnovers down. Yesterday wasn’t too bad, except for a stretch in the second half when they dozed off and let Marquette back into the game. Flynn and Devo had their pockets picked bringing the ball up court. And we had one of those lazy inbounds plays where the ball ended up in Marquette’s hands under their own basket.

It’s hard to gauge this recent run, because Cuse beat three lousy teams before yesterday, and because Marquette isn’t the same with James on the bench. Still, with the exception of the first half against Rutgers, they have played with much more intensity over the last couple weeks, acting like they knew they had to play hard every night. No nights off. The Big East tournament might be indicative of whether this season has really turned around; whether everyone is healthy again; and whether there is hope for anything beyond a first round game.

I celebrated with a cherry juice, things not being quite back to normal yet. But at the same time, I’m pleased to announce that the barbeque pit had its home court opener on Friday night. Cousin Bruce, once known as Waxie, was in town, and we grilled those big fat strip steaks we love so much. Put a bit of the Israeli rub on them, fired up the grill, and filled the back yard with the savory aroma of steaks on the fire. A sign of things to come. Steaks on the grill; Big East tournament later this week; and an invitation to the NCAAs next Sunday night. Go Orange.

Opening Day

No, not that opening day, which is just over a month away. I’m talking about the reopening of the whisky drinking season. And for those among you who think the whisky season runs all year long, 365 days to be exact, imagine what it’s like when the season comes to a close. Try walking in the door every evening, after a long aggravating day, and pouring yourself a cold glass of ice water. Or how about sitting down after dinner with a hot cup of herbal tea? Think that would get it done for you? Anyway, after more than five weeks away, 37 days to be precise, I cut loose last night with a glass of Macallan 15 after sharing the porterhouse for 2, three ways at the Chophouse. Really, it was in the nature of a medical experiment, to see what would happen, because in another week or so I’m meeting the boys in New York, and we’re planning to dine, where else but Keen’s? And who could go to Keen’s without a taste or two? So the experiment was really designed to see how I would do. So far so good, I’m happy to report. But still, I’m not counting any chickens just yet.

The other thing I discovered last night was exactly how good that glass of Macallan really tasted. I mean, I think I was getting spoiled, having a chance to enjoy a glass or two whenever the urge came over me. Any evening at all, certainly any weekend day, whenever I just felt like it, I could go to the cabinet, and pour out some Aberlour, or some Lagavulin, or a little bit of Highland Park, and think nothing of it. Sure I enjoyed it, what’s not to enjoy? But after more than five weeks without, imagine how it felt to sip on the Macallan last night, to savor every drop, and to feel that soft mellow warmth wash over me. That glass was on a par with the very first taste of malt whisky I ever enjoyed – a glass of Lagavulin that a friend poured for me in DC one night, after we had all been out for Chinese food. One taste was all I needed; I was hooked. This time, I’m going more slowly; I’m trying to work my way back gradually, carefully, so as not to blow up my gut again. But if nothing else, the time away has only made me more appreciative.

Last night’s good cheer seemed to spill over into the afternoon today, as Cuse played a second strong game in a row, dismantling Cincinnati by half time, and coasting to the easiest win they’ve had all year in the dome. They accomplished this without much in the way of outside shooting, which suggests to me that there is still room for improvement. The defense looked good again; this was two games in a row where they held the opposition under 20 points in the first half. Now it’s hard to tell how much of that was good D, and how much was that St. Johns and Cincinnati simply couldn’t knock down their shots. But regardless, it certainly looked like guys were hustling more on defense; the zone looked far more active than it had earlier in the year. AO had a good game, even if he isn’t 100% just yet; KO is playing with a lot more confidence; and the team was running well, getting out on the break, and playing very well in the open court. With over 20 wins already, and with an RPI in the low twenties, and with the 18th toughest strength of schedule, they should be a lock for the tourney. However, the selection committee has been so squirrelly the last couple years, it’s hard to know. My goal for this year is the sweet sixteen. It doesn’t seem impossible. I mean Kansas and Memphis are both ranked in the top ten, and we beat them both on the road. So it’s hardly inconceivable that we could beat a couple tournament teams on a neutral court. Although it’s also conceivable that we could drop the first game to the likes of say, Vermont. Anyway, for the time being, the color of the season is still Orange.