By Bob Markus
The NFL draft has become a cottage industry--except it's gotten so big you'd probably have to call it a mansion industry. There were 45 million viewers for the three-day extravaganza which ended Saturday and here's what they saw. Nothing. No dazzling runs. No crunching blocks. No thunderous hits. Not live, anyway. What they saw was a bunch of guys sitting around a desk and arguing about which player would be taken next and which player should be taken next and then explaining why they all turned out to be wrong. Invariably, whoever was selected, according to the panel, had a lot of "upside" and was an excellent choice. Apparently, Mel Kiper never met a player he didn't like, except Tim Tebow, whom he absolutely hated. Not personally, you understand, but as an NFL quarterback. A lot of people agreed with him, a glaring exception being Denver Broncos' coach, Josh McDaniels, who has gambled his career on Tebow.
My personal view is that McDaniels wins that gamble and if Tebow isn't the next John Elway he at least could be the next Joe Kapp.
So who is Mel Kiper and why should anyone care what he thinks? Kiper is the self-proclaimed draft guru and his greatest talent appears to be the ability to make people believe they should listen to him. Before there was Mel Kiper there was Jimmy the Greek, who was not a draft expert, but an oddsmaker. Actually, what he was was a very good p.r. man for Jimmy the Greek, who made more than a decent living with himself as the only product. Kiper has taken it to the next level. He has been producing a draft related magazine for nearly 30 years and has been a part of ESPN's draft coverage since 1984. He works hard at what he does, appears to have a lot of contacts among NFL scouts and executives and often is spot on in his evaluations. Then again he picked Notre Dame quarterback Jimmy Clausen to go fourth in the first round and the Irish star ended up being a second round pick, the 48th player chosen. Maybe what Kiper said was that Clausen would go forth. And he could always point out that, since the Carolina Panthers had no first round pick and they grabbed Clausen at the first opportunity, he was in a sense a first rounder.
Kiper was by no means alone in the high value he placed on Clausen. Just about everyone had him rated much higher than Tebow. So did I. In fact I thought Clausen was the best pro quarterback prospect in the draft, better than Sam Bradford, who was the first man chosen, despite having missed most of last season with a shoulder injury. Presumably, the draft evaluators of the 30 teams that passed on Clausen at least once (the Bears didn't draft until the third round and Clausen was long gone by then) knew something I don 't. In fact, I'm sure they know a lot of things that I don't. It's their business to know. Well, it used to be my business, too, even though I didn't bring the depth of football knowledge to the task that the pro football people possess. Yet I do know this much: the pros can be wrong. Horribly wrong. Think Ryan Leaf, a No.2 pick who ended up being a total bust as a pro quarterback. In fact, Leaf is the poster boy for NFL picks gone wrong, so much so that he was quoted this week as saying he's glad he wasn't chosen No.1 (over Peyton Manning) or the outcries would have been much worse. There is hope for Leaf, yet, however as DeMarcus Russell, the LSU quarterback the Oakland Raiders took with the No.1 pick a few years back, has been, well, not a flameout, more like a slowly dying ember.
I don't expect Bradford to be totally useless, but I don't expect him to become a super star either. The St. Louis Rams obviously do. We'll wait and see but my guess is as good as theirs. Think the NFL teams all know what they're doing? Then how did Tom Brady go til the fifth round before being drafted. Why did Kurt Warner never get drafted at all? In the late 1980s I was covering the Bears for the Chicago Tribune when they made a linebacker/defensive end from Ohio State their No. 1 draft pick. I was shocked. I had covered three or four Ohio State games in my previous role as national college sports writer and I had never seen this man make a tackle. Never heard his name called. But he could run a 4.6 40 and jump through the roof. He just couldn't do it when there was anyone standing in front of him.
For every high draft pick who fails, there's an unheralded late round pick who emerges as a star. Figuring out which is which is the challenge. For instance, I expect Golden Tate, the Notre Dame wide receiver taken with the 60th pick by Seattle, to be a star. The Dallas Cowboys obviously feel Dez Bryant will be better. We'll see. Maybe that's why the draft has become such a big deal. It's a game anyone can play. All you need is a TV set and an opinion.
Tuesday, April 27, 2010
Tuesday, April 20, 2010
By Bob Markus
This is how cynical we've all become: When golfer Brian Davis called a two-stroke penalty on himself on the first hole of a sudden death playoff Sunday there were fans calling into talk shows scoffing at the notion the Englishman had any credit coming to him for his act of sportsmanship. "He might have been worried that someone taping the tournament at home had spotted the infraction and would report it to the USGA," was one caller's suggestion. If that would have happened and Davis had signed an incorrect score card, he would have been disqualified and, instead of the $615, 600 he earned as runner-up to winner Jim Furyk, would have gone home with nothing but a ruined reputation.
That is possible. In today's world of ubiquitous electronic devices, not only is Big Brother watching us, but a whole bunch of nieces, nephews, and total strangers, too. But Davis would have had to be mighty quick-witted to instantly run through his options and come up with the honorable solution. Having birdied the 72d hole to tie Furyk for the lead, Davis had hit a horrid second shot from just about the same distance he had nailed a six iron to within 15 feet moments earlier. The ball landed in a rock-studded ravine and, although marginally playable, was sitting in a nest of vegetation--grass, twigs, reeds, you name it. By the rules of golf, Davis was not permitted to ground his club nor clear away any of the impediments before striking the ball.
Clearly, he was in trouble. Furyk was sitting two putts away from a routine par, so Davis likely would have to get the ball up and down in two strokes to prolong the playoff. The CBS announcers were speculating that he might be better off taking a penalty for an unplayable lie and hoping to chip in for his par. Instead, Davis went for it and hit an amazing shot that found the putting surface, although he would have had to drain a lengthy putt--or hoped Furyk would three putt--to halve the hole. It would have been a slim chance, but at least it would have been a chance. As it turned out, Furyk never had to use his putter. Davis had barely completed his follow through when he called for a tour official and reported that he thought he might have touched a blade of grass on his back swing. After watching the replay several times, the official ruled that Davis, indeed, had touched a tiny reed as he drew his wedge back. The reed barely moved before settling back in place and the ball didn't move at all. It's highly unlikely a viewer at home would have caught the slight motion without the benefit of a replay. Davis could have kept quiet and possibly have recorded his first Tour victory.
But golfers are taught to follow the rules of golf and most of them do so, without question and without fail. Sometimes golfers cheat whether it be overtly or accidentally. Both Vijay Singh and Colin Montgomerie have been accused of cheating at some point in their careers. Both have denied it. Golf is supposed to be a self policing sport. From their first lesson, whether it be by a golf pro or a friend or relative, golfers are taught to revere the game and respect its rules. Most of us try and most of us fail. In my regular foursome there is one of us who concedes himself five foot putts if he has already taken two or three. Another one frequently forgets penalty strokes. I admit I don't count whiffs if nobody is watching, although I do count them in a sand trap, providing I at least take some sand. I'm not proud of it, but there you are.
Golf is a beautiful game and part of its beauty lies in its adherence to an ethical code that is not present in other sports. Baseball players do not tell the umpire they trapped that sinking liner and basketball players don't tell the referee they stepped in front of their opponent in order to draw a charge. Football players don't tell the officials they stepped on the out of bounds line before coming back to make a catch. Even boxers will climb the ring ropes and throw both arms in the air--the universal victory gesture--in a futile attempt to influence a decision that has already been rendered. Some call-in fans have wondered why Davis is being commended for doing what the rules and mores of the game require. To them my suggestion is: take $410, 400 (the difference between first and second place money in the Heritage Classic) out of the bank and give it to your next door neighbor. Then maybe you will start to understand.
This is how cynical we've all become: When golfer Brian Davis called a two-stroke penalty on himself on the first hole of a sudden death playoff Sunday there were fans calling into talk shows scoffing at the notion the Englishman had any credit coming to him for his act of sportsmanship. "He might have been worried that someone taping the tournament at home had spotted the infraction and would report it to the USGA," was one caller's suggestion. If that would have happened and Davis had signed an incorrect score card, he would have been disqualified and, instead of the $615, 600 he earned as runner-up to winner Jim Furyk, would have gone home with nothing but a ruined reputation.
That is possible. In today's world of ubiquitous electronic devices, not only is Big Brother watching us, but a whole bunch of nieces, nephews, and total strangers, too. But Davis would have had to be mighty quick-witted to instantly run through his options and come up with the honorable solution. Having birdied the 72d hole to tie Furyk for the lead, Davis had hit a horrid second shot from just about the same distance he had nailed a six iron to within 15 feet moments earlier. The ball landed in a rock-studded ravine and, although marginally playable, was sitting in a nest of vegetation--grass, twigs, reeds, you name it. By the rules of golf, Davis was not permitted to ground his club nor clear away any of the impediments before striking the ball.
Clearly, he was in trouble. Furyk was sitting two putts away from a routine par, so Davis likely would have to get the ball up and down in two strokes to prolong the playoff. The CBS announcers were speculating that he might be better off taking a penalty for an unplayable lie and hoping to chip in for his par. Instead, Davis went for it and hit an amazing shot that found the putting surface, although he would have had to drain a lengthy putt--or hoped Furyk would three putt--to halve the hole. It would have been a slim chance, but at least it would have been a chance. As it turned out, Furyk never had to use his putter. Davis had barely completed his follow through when he called for a tour official and reported that he thought he might have touched a blade of grass on his back swing. After watching the replay several times, the official ruled that Davis, indeed, had touched a tiny reed as he drew his wedge back. The reed barely moved before settling back in place and the ball didn't move at all. It's highly unlikely a viewer at home would have caught the slight motion without the benefit of a replay. Davis could have kept quiet and possibly have recorded his first Tour victory.
But golfers are taught to follow the rules of golf and most of them do so, without question and without fail. Sometimes golfers cheat whether it be overtly or accidentally. Both Vijay Singh and Colin Montgomerie have been accused of cheating at some point in their careers. Both have denied it. Golf is supposed to be a self policing sport. From their first lesson, whether it be by a golf pro or a friend or relative, golfers are taught to revere the game and respect its rules. Most of us try and most of us fail. In my regular foursome there is one of us who concedes himself five foot putts if he has already taken two or three. Another one frequently forgets penalty strokes. I admit I don't count whiffs if nobody is watching, although I do count them in a sand trap, providing I at least take some sand. I'm not proud of it, but there you are.
Golf is a beautiful game and part of its beauty lies in its adherence to an ethical code that is not present in other sports. Baseball players do not tell the umpire they trapped that sinking liner and basketball players don't tell the referee they stepped in front of their opponent in order to draw a charge. Football players don't tell the officials they stepped on the out of bounds line before coming back to make a catch. Even boxers will climb the ring ropes and throw both arms in the air--the universal victory gesture--in a futile attempt to influence a decision that has already been rendered. Some call-in fans have wondered why Davis is being commended for doing what the rules and mores of the game require. To them my suggestion is: take $410, 400 (the difference between first and second place money in the Heritage Classic) out of the bank and give it to your next door neighbor. Then maybe you will start to understand.
Tuesday, April 13, 2010
By Bob Markus
I'm sitting here trying to think of something different to say about Tiger Woods and all that keeps running through my mind, like the ribbon that runs at the bottom of your screen when you're watching Sports Center, is book titles. When I think about Tiger Woods I think "An American Tragedy" or "Paradise Lost." Portraying Woods as a tragic figure on the face of it seems a stretch. The man, after all, is still a billionaire, and, as he proved once again on Sunday, still one of the world's best golfers. But, as they say, the bigger they come "The Harder They Fall." Woods' plunge from grace was spectacular because of the distance he had to fall. That is the essence of Greek tragedy is it not? The fall of the Gods, the fatal flaw (see Achilles); only the mighty need apply.
Tiger's performance in the Masters was difficult to quantify. For three rounds he did what he always says is his goal: He gave himself a chance. He sometimes didn't look good doing it, but Sunday found him in the next to last pairing, four strokes out of the lead, but with only two men to catch. Even after three early bogeys dropped him seven shots back he wasn't through. An improbable eagle two on the par four seventh hole was the launching pad for one of those runs that used to send chills through his fellow competitors. Not this time. His bid for a fifth green jacket came to an end on the 14th when he turned what looked like a sure birdie into a bogey by three putting from 4 1/2 feet. A god no more, but merely a mortal. Still, he eagled the next hole and birdied the last--and fished his ball out of the cup with a gesture of disgust that told us all we needed to know about his mental state. For most golfers who had gone through what Woods had gone through, a tie for fourth in the Masters would seem to be a positive result. But for Tiger Woods these days there are no moral victories (pun very definitely intended).
Then there was Phil Mickelson. For all the hand wringing over poor Tiger's problems and the mental stress they caused, it must not be overlooked that he brought it all on himself. Mickelson's inner concerns ran much deeper than Tiger's, which made his ultimate triumph that much sweeter. While Woods was worrying about which sleeping partner would slither out from underneath the bed next, Mickelson was fearing for his wife Amy's life. The contrast between the two men could not have been any clearer than it was on this magnificent Masters Sunday. While Amy Mickelson, still fighting breast cancer, greeted her husband with an emotional embrace after his popular victory, Tiger's wife Erin was an ocean away, both physically and symbolically, leaving Woods (I hope) alone to deal with what he considered failure. As it turned out, Woods would have needed a 64 on Sunday to even tie Mickelson, who pretty much wrapped up the tournament with his audacious approach through a gap in the trees to within eagle range on the par five 13th. That he missed the short eagle putt is irrelevant.
What is relevant is that Mickelson, at least for now, is Woods' equal. He appears, at last, to have enough confidence in his game to take on Tiger at any venue. He still has to prove it, however. Sunday's victory left him still 10 major titles behind Woods, although his third green jacket is only one fewer than Woods has in his closet. Mickelson quite likely won some of Woods' former fans with his Masters performance. Many of Woods' fans, however, are standing by their man. I have to confess I'm one of them. Does that mean I condone his indiscretions? No, but it's not up to me to condemn them, either. I'm a Tiger Woods fan because he's the closest thing to perfection that we've seen on a golf course. I root for the story. I admire talent. Frank Sinatra was not a very nice man, I've been told, but I'd still rather listen to him sing than to Perry Como.
I'm sitting here trying to think of something different to say about Tiger Woods and all that keeps running through my mind, like the ribbon that runs at the bottom of your screen when you're watching Sports Center, is book titles. When I think about Tiger Woods I think "An American Tragedy" or "Paradise Lost." Portraying Woods as a tragic figure on the face of it seems a stretch. The man, after all, is still a billionaire, and, as he proved once again on Sunday, still one of the world's best golfers. But, as they say, the bigger they come "The Harder They Fall." Woods' plunge from grace was spectacular because of the distance he had to fall. That is the essence of Greek tragedy is it not? The fall of the Gods, the fatal flaw (see Achilles); only the mighty need apply.
Tiger's performance in the Masters was difficult to quantify. For three rounds he did what he always says is his goal: He gave himself a chance. He sometimes didn't look good doing it, but Sunday found him in the next to last pairing, four strokes out of the lead, but with only two men to catch. Even after three early bogeys dropped him seven shots back he wasn't through. An improbable eagle two on the par four seventh hole was the launching pad for one of those runs that used to send chills through his fellow competitors. Not this time. His bid for a fifth green jacket came to an end on the 14th when he turned what looked like a sure birdie into a bogey by three putting from 4 1/2 feet. A god no more, but merely a mortal. Still, he eagled the next hole and birdied the last--and fished his ball out of the cup with a gesture of disgust that told us all we needed to know about his mental state. For most golfers who had gone through what Woods had gone through, a tie for fourth in the Masters would seem to be a positive result. But for Tiger Woods these days there are no moral victories (pun very definitely intended).
Then there was Phil Mickelson. For all the hand wringing over poor Tiger's problems and the mental stress they caused, it must not be overlooked that he brought it all on himself. Mickelson's inner concerns ran much deeper than Tiger's, which made his ultimate triumph that much sweeter. While Woods was worrying about which sleeping partner would slither out from underneath the bed next, Mickelson was fearing for his wife Amy's life. The contrast between the two men could not have been any clearer than it was on this magnificent Masters Sunday. While Amy Mickelson, still fighting breast cancer, greeted her husband with an emotional embrace after his popular victory, Tiger's wife Erin was an ocean away, both physically and symbolically, leaving Woods (I hope) alone to deal with what he considered failure. As it turned out, Woods would have needed a 64 on Sunday to even tie Mickelson, who pretty much wrapped up the tournament with his audacious approach through a gap in the trees to within eagle range on the par five 13th. That he missed the short eagle putt is irrelevant.
What is relevant is that Mickelson, at least for now, is Woods' equal. He appears, at last, to have enough confidence in his game to take on Tiger at any venue. He still has to prove it, however. Sunday's victory left him still 10 major titles behind Woods, although his third green jacket is only one fewer than Woods has in his closet. Mickelson quite likely won some of Woods' former fans with his Masters performance. Many of Woods' fans, however, are standing by their man. I have to confess I'm one of them. Does that mean I condone his indiscretions? No, but it's not up to me to condemn them, either. I'm a Tiger Woods fan because he's the closest thing to perfection that we've seen on a golf course. I root for the story. I admire talent. Frank Sinatra was not a very nice man, I've been told, but I'd still rather listen to him sing than to Perry Como.
Tuesday, April 6, 2010
By Bob Markus
Maybe it's a good thing that Gordon Hayward's buzzer beating prayer went unanswered. If the Butler star's half court fling had gone in as time expired on Monday night's NCAA championship game, words would have been streaming from sports writers' word processors from here to hyperbole. As it was, the announcing team on CBS's telecast was calling Duke's 61-59 victory perhaps the greatest final in the history of the NCAA tournament. It wasn't. It was ferociously contested and close throughout--neither team ever led by more than six points. But it was missing a few things. One of them was a true super star. Neither team had one. Another missing ingredient was a doubt about which team would be the eventual winner.
I don't know about you but as the final 20 minutes unfolded I never had a sense that Duke was going to lose this game. It might have been tight on the scoreboard, but not as tight as Butler's shooters. Although they never could put the feisty Bulldogs away, Duke's Blue Devils generally kept it a two-possession game. Even when Butler would shrink the margin down to three points or less, Duke would almost always have possession of the ball, effectively making it a two-possession disadvantage for Butler. By now, having been outrebounded by the smaller Bulldogs in the first half--but still leading by a point at the intermission--Duke had seized control of the boards. Faced with a huge height disadvantage, the Bulldogs moved the ball at warp speed, looking for an opening. But too often they would settle for a drive to the basket where two or even three tall defenders were lurking.
The network announcers were on the money when they noted that Butler needed to shoot more from the perimeter. In particular they needed to put the ball in Hayward's hands. The 6-7 junior's game conjures memories of Larry Bird, including the fact that both had subpar performances in a losing NCAA title game. Hayward went only 2-11 from the field. but his slashes to the basket did net him a spate of second half free throws that kept the game close. After center Matt Howard powered in a pair of baskets to cut the Duke lead to one point in the final minute, the Bulldogs finally got the message and looked for Hayward. But Hayward's off balance shot for the lead drew iron with about seven seconds to go. After Duke's 7-1 center Brian Zoubek made the first of two free throws with under 4 seconds to play, he missed the second--perhaps intentionally. Hayward got the rebound and managed to dribble to midcourt before heaving his unanswered prayer. But it was oh, so close and had it dropped in we might be reconsidering this game's place in NCAA basketball lore. Obviously, if only for the presence of Butler, a small school from an unheralded conference, it has to fit in somewhere among the top 10. The fact that Duke Coach Mike Kryzyewski won his fourth title, joining legends Adolph Rupp and John Wooden as the only coaches to win that many, adds a little cache to its claim to eternal fame.
But there have been plenty of other games that equalled this one for excitement. Start with the fact that seven NCAA title games have gone to overtime. Of those, the one that stands out is North Carolina's 54-53 triple overtime win over Wilt Chamberlain's Kansas Jayhawks in a 1957 classic. Not far behind was Loyola of Chicago's 60-58 win over Cincinnati on a tip-in rebound at the overtime buzzer in 1963. That game resides in my personal memory book because it was the first NCAA final I ever covered for the Chicago Tribune. What made the game significant was that Cincinnati was the two-time defending champion, ranked No.1, and considered invincible if allowed to play on the lead. When the Bearcats opened a 15-point lead early in the second half, it appeared they were on their way to a threepeat. But Loyola, which started four African American players a full three years before Texas Western became famous for starting five, scrapped its way back and forced overtime. Demonstrating the enormous growth in media interest since then, Loyola Coach George Ireland conducted his postgame press conference in the hallway outside the Ramblers' dressing room and was surrounded by perhaps a dozen media types.
But not all of the most memorable title games went to overtime. There was Georgetown's Fred Brown throwing the ball away and North Carolina's Michael Jordan burying the game-winner in the Tarheels' 63-62 victory in 1982. The following year saw North Carolina State's Lorenzo Charles slamming the lid on an airball at the buzzer sending the underdog Wolfpack to an unlikely upset of Houston and Coach Jim Valvano on a frantic hunt for someone to hug. Two years after that came my own choice as the greatest NCAA Final, Villanova's 66-64 win over mighty Georgetown. The Wildcats made 9 of their 10 second half shots in a near-perfect display of basketball. And in 1987 came Indiana's 74-73 victory over Syracuse on Keith Smart's baseline jumper in the final second.
So, yes, Monday night's game was memorable. But the best ever? Hardly.
Maybe it's a good thing that Gordon Hayward's buzzer beating prayer went unanswered. If the Butler star's half court fling had gone in as time expired on Monday night's NCAA championship game, words would have been streaming from sports writers' word processors from here to hyperbole. As it was, the announcing team on CBS's telecast was calling Duke's 61-59 victory perhaps the greatest final in the history of the NCAA tournament. It wasn't. It was ferociously contested and close throughout--neither team ever led by more than six points. But it was missing a few things. One of them was a true super star. Neither team had one. Another missing ingredient was a doubt about which team would be the eventual winner.
I don't know about you but as the final 20 minutes unfolded I never had a sense that Duke was going to lose this game. It might have been tight on the scoreboard, but not as tight as Butler's shooters. Although they never could put the feisty Bulldogs away, Duke's Blue Devils generally kept it a two-possession game. Even when Butler would shrink the margin down to three points or less, Duke would almost always have possession of the ball, effectively making it a two-possession disadvantage for Butler. By now, having been outrebounded by the smaller Bulldogs in the first half--but still leading by a point at the intermission--Duke had seized control of the boards. Faced with a huge height disadvantage, the Bulldogs moved the ball at warp speed, looking for an opening. But too often they would settle for a drive to the basket where two or even three tall defenders were lurking.
The network announcers were on the money when they noted that Butler needed to shoot more from the perimeter. In particular they needed to put the ball in Hayward's hands. The 6-7 junior's game conjures memories of Larry Bird, including the fact that both had subpar performances in a losing NCAA title game. Hayward went only 2-11 from the field. but his slashes to the basket did net him a spate of second half free throws that kept the game close. After center Matt Howard powered in a pair of baskets to cut the Duke lead to one point in the final minute, the Bulldogs finally got the message and looked for Hayward. But Hayward's off balance shot for the lead drew iron with about seven seconds to go. After Duke's 7-1 center Brian Zoubek made the first of two free throws with under 4 seconds to play, he missed the second--perhaps intentionally. Hayward got the rebound and managed to dribble to midcourt before heaving his unanswered prayer. But it was oh, so close and had it dropped in we might be reconsidering this game's place in NCAA basketball lore. Obviously, if only for the presence of Butler, a small school from an unheralded conference, it has to fit in somewhere among the top 10. The fact that Duke Coach Mike Kryzyewski won his fourth title, joining legends Adolph Rupp and John Wooden as the only coaches to win that many, adds a little cache to its claim to eternal fame.
But there have been plenty of other games that equalled this one for excitement. Start with the fact that seven NCAA title games have gone to overtime. Of those, the one that stands out is North Carolina's 54-53 triple overtime win over Wilt Chamberlain's Kansas Jayhawks in a 1957 classic. Not far behind was Loyola of Chicago's 60-58 win over Cincinnati on a tip-in rebound at the overtime buzzer in 1963. That game resides in my personal memory book because it was the first NCAA final I ever covered for the Chicago Tribune. What made the game significant was that Cincinnati was the two-time defending champion, ranked No.1, and considered invincible if allowed to play on the lead. When the Bearcats opened a 15-point lead early in the second half, it appeared they were on their way to a threepeat. But Loyola, which started four African American players a full three years before Texas Western became famous for starting five, scrapped its way back and forced overtime. Demonstrating the enormous growth in media interest since then, Loyola Coach George Ireland conducted his postgame press conference in the hallway outside the Ramblers' dressing room and was surrounded by perhaps a dozen media types.
But not all of the most memorable title games went to overtime. There was Georgetown's Fred Brown throwing the ball away and North Carolina's Michael Jordan burying the game-winner in the Tarheels' 63-62 victory in 1982. The following year saw North Carolina State's Lorenzo Charles slamming the lid on an airball at the buzzer sending the underdog Wolfpack to an unlikely upset of Houston and Coach Jim Valvano on a frantic hunt for someone to hug. Two years after that came my own choice as the greatest NCAA Final, Villanova's 66-64 win over mighty Georgetown. The Wildcats made 9 of their 10 second half shots in a near-perfect display of basketball. And in 1987 came Indiana's 74-73 victory over Syracuse on Keith Smart's baseline jumper in the final second.
So, yes, Monday night's game was memorable. But the best ever? Hardly.
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