By Chris Freind
Dear North Carolina State:
Really? Did you really have to rip our hearts out by beating our Number One seed Villanova?
Congratulations. We hope you’re proud. You single-handedly kicked eight million Philadelphia sports fans in the teeth, sending us right back into our perpetual state of depression. We may be one of the nation’s biggest cities, but somehow, we are dead last in championships.
Sixers? Horrendous. Twenty-two years since their last title. And for good measure, the franchise owns the NBA record for fewest wins in a season. Flyers? Do we even have a hockey team anymore? (Gerry Ford was President the last time we won the Stanley Cup). Phils? Most losses of any team, in any sport, in American history (over 10,000). And our beloved Iggles? Always close, but zero Super Bowl trophies.
Our last true hope was Villanova. Sure, they made history once before as a Cinderella, but this was a powerhouse team. This time it would be different. This was the year that would finally be ours, with the dynamic Wildcats surely advancing to the Championship game, then knocking off those other Wildcats. It was so close, almost in our grasp.
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But instead, you just made ‘Nova coach Jay Wright the next Andy Reid. Great regular season leader, but underachiever when it counts most. And so our mammoth inferiority complex continues. So thanks —- and maybe we’ll see you next year, when our Groundhog Day in the NCAA’s will no doubt continue.
Yours in Suffering,
Philadelphia
****
March Madness.
It is, without a doubt, the best sporting event on the planet.
Sure, the Olympics stoke nationalistic fervor, and Americans sometimes excel in sports where they aren’t favored (who can forget the Miracle on Ice?), but America is virtually never the underdog, because we almost always lead the world in the medal count.
And stop right there. No, the World Cup absolutely, positively, cannot compare. First, soccer isn’t a sport; it’s a recreational activity. Second, enough with the theatrics of players writhing on the turf for ten minutes because they injured a nail. Third, what’s up with that running clock and the fact that we really don’t know when the game will end? Even worse is the offsides rule, which kills the .001 percent excitement level in professional soccer by stifling aggressiveness and encouraging pansy play. A rule, by the way, that virtually no American understands.
Finally, can we just admit that all those “cards” —- which come in more colors than the Homeland Security threat-level chart —- are really dumb? Refs don’t warn basketball players not to hack a guy after the fact. They actually call the foul. A simple concept, yet one lost on the soccer fanatics.
But the NCAA Tournament is different, in so many ways. And when it comes our way each spring, some miraculous things occur throughout America.
March Madness teaches us that anything can happen, and that miracles do occur. Its lesson that sportsmanship, confidence, and work ethic can achieve the impossible are timeless for young and old alike.
On game days, very little work gets done. And you know what? That’s okay, even with most bosses. Americans work harder than anyone else on earth. Hell, we’re still being productive while the Europeans are taking a siesta —- from their earlier siesta. If there was ever something to which we can legitimately feel “entitled,” it’s taking a little time to watch the tournament together.
And that is the most important thing: being together. For a few short weeks, Americans suddenly become blind to our prejudices. Political partisanship and the management-labor caste go out the window. The only colors we care about are those worn by our favorite teams.
No longer do we see ourselves, and each other, as black and white, male and female, liberal and conservative. Instead, we become friends, neighbors, and countrymen, all side-by-side, cheering in unity. In lunchrooms, bars, and cubicles, even crowded around cellphones, we huddle. Screaming. Smiling. And sometimes even crying.
We come together to cheer for our teams —- some of whom we’ve never heard of, hailing from places we don’t know —- watching breathlessly as a Number 14 seed comes agonizingly close to slaying a giant.
We experience the unbelievable moments, sometimes forgetting to breathe, as seniors —-some destined for the NBA, but most for an “ordinary” life —- play their hearts out, knowing that one misstep will end their collegiate career. And just as often, we see 18-year-old freshmen step to the foul line with the game literally in their hands, as an entire nation —- including the President of the United States —- watches.
And alma maters and home teams notwithstanding, the vast majority of Americans always pull for the underdogs, the teams that the “experts” don’t give a snowball’s chance in hell to win. Yet year after year, many find a way to knock out Goliath. We find this endearing not just because it’s fun, but because it personifies who we are as Americans.
From our very beginnings, the odds have always been stacked against us:
-Defeat the British, merely the most powerful nation the world had even known? Dream on. But we did, making the dream of liberty and freedom a reality, on an unprecedented scale, for hundreds of millions.
-Win the Civil War? Forget it. Even if Lincoln’s army prevailed, the defeated South’s resentment would never subside, and its people would never, could never, assimilate into a northern-dominated America. If Vegas had odds, it would have been a sure bet that the tattered Union would not prevail. But it did.
-Save the world from the tyranny of the Axis Powers? With an under-equipped army and industrial base not suited for defense production? Not for decades could victory be expected. And to engineer a weapon so awesome that it could end the war after just one or two uses? Forget about it. And yet, the Greatest Generation not only accomplished those things, but provided the blueprint for America’s postwar mega-boom.
-Put a man on the moon? Save the Apollo 13 astronauts? Beat the Soviet Union and defeat communism? End segregation? Elect a black man to the presidency? The list goes on.
And yet despite America’s track record of beating the odds, the naysayers are still out in full force, predicting gloom and doom. Maybe they’re right this time. Maybe America really is in its twilight, as the country’s seemingly insurmountable problems —- and the politicians’ inability to solve them in a civil manner —- attests.
Maybe.
But no matter how many times America has fallen, and how often its back has been to the wall, it has always —- always —- prevailed. For the record, my money’s on the world’s biggest underdog coming through in the clutch once again, turning it on when it has to, and finishing the game stronger than anyone else. It’s what we’ve always done, and it’s what we must do now.
And why? Because that’s what a true champion does.
Now back to my bracket….
Boo-hoo. We were rooting for Lafayette up here in the Valley.
Honey Badger doesn’t give a pooh pooh about basketball,