Thursday, March 18, 2004
One thing I will never see Rick Stansbury do is address supporters on top of a bar-literally. But as sports editor Craig Peters and I walk into One Eyed Jack’s, a bar in Florida, we see Monmouth coach Dave Calloway high above the blue-clad crowd, giving a spirited pep talk.
Monmouth’s team, coaches, administration, students and supporters have taken over the bar in downtown Orlando. Even the bartenders wear Monmouth shirts.
I fight a perverse desire to chant the “Maroon, White, fight, fight, fight” cheer. Wise words from Craig convince me to remain silent and soak up the atmosphere.
How did two Bulldogs find their way into the midst of Big Blue (apparently, Monmouth fans are not aware of a school in Lexington, Ky., which also has something of a basketball tradition)?
Craig and I arrived at the T.D. Waterhouse Centre-the spelling is not a mistake, though I wonder how the British fit in to Orlando’s cultural history-by noon, in time for the first round of press conferences and practices.
Some teams barely broke a sweat. Vanderbilt coach Kevin Stallings led his players in a half-court shooting contest. By contrast, Stansbury had his Dawgs racing up and down the court. Craig and I closely watched Lawrence Roberts’ right ankle. To our relief, Roberts runs with nary a limp.
Stansbury, trying his best not to make the Monmouth bulletin board, made them sound like another St. Joseph’s.
“I’ve seen tape and I didn’t like what I saw,” Stansbury said. I idly wondered how Stansbury would compare watching the Hawks to, say, “Bicentennial Man.”
But Stansbury scared me. I kept checking the bracket to make sure the Hawks are still a No. 15 seed. Visions of Butler dance in my head.
Calloway was a refreshing change. On how his team compares to the Dawgs, he said: “Well, they’re bigger, stronger, faster and more athletic. Other than that, we’ll be fine.”
Craig and I met several members of Monmouth’s student media, who invited us to the party at One Eyed Jack’s. We decided this was a cultural opportunity we shouldn’t miss.
Also, there was no similar function for MSU folks. Our athletic department is not known for its ability to get down.
Perhaps anticipating a come-down tomorrow night, Monmouth parties like champions. They cheer every time the score from the Manhattan/Florida game is shown on SportsCenter. All Hawk fans are thinking the same thing: if one small school from the Northeast can upset an SEC team, why not another?
Craig and I endure some good-natured ribbing about our school affiliation. We grin and say nice things about the Hawks. One, because their fans and players are all nice people, so it’s easy to be sportsmanlike. Two, we are decidedly in the minority at this moment.
After a late night with the Hawks, we make it back to our room at the La Quinta. Upon noticing the car freshener hanging in the bathroom, we curse the rest of the State entourage, which is staying downtown at the swank Westin. They have complimentary bathrobes. We don’t have clean towels.
Friday, March 19, 2004
Being a first-timer to cover the NCAA Tournament, I decide to go for the full experience. Although State isn’t playing until 7 p.m., Craig and I arrive at the stadium at noon so we can see all the games.
This proves to be basketball-watching equivalent of learning to swim by having your older brother toss you in the deep end of the pool.
I should add that I’m not an experienced sportswriter. The only reason I’m in Orlando is because the regular basketball beat writer had a last-minute conflict and, well, part of my job as editor is being the writer of last resort. I love college basketball as much as Dick Vitale, but having written only a few sports articles during the year, I’m dangerously close to being in over my head.
The first game of the day is North Carolina State versus Louisiana-Lafayette.
The game, to put it mildly, is unimpressive (see “Best and Worst” list on Page 2). The Vandy/Western Michigan game is much better (the players actually make a shot every now and then!), but my nervousness about the MSU/Monmouth game distracts me. I check my press row seating assignment so often that a security guard starts giving me dirty looks.
The media buffet before the MSU game disproves the theory that the NCAA lavishes a lot of money during high-profile, money-making events like the tournament. Either that, or the NCAA is getting revenge on sportswriters for criticizing the Bowl Championship Series. Being a college student on a budget, I know exactly how cheap roast beef and tomato on Texas toast is.
The game is a joy for anyone wearing Maroon and White. State loses the opening tip-off, but not much else.
My heart goes into my throat when Lawrence Roberts take a shot to the eye during the second half, but he returns to the bench later in the half.
Coach Stansbury tells us that Lawrence will be ready to go Sunday during the post-game press conference. Bulldog Nation lets out an audible sigh.
Craig and I return to the scene of our previous night’s adventures: Orlando’s downtown bar and nightclub district.
Our Monmouth friends are a little more downcast this time. They wish us well for the rest of the tournament. They remind us that Duke trounced them the last time the Hawks attended the Big Dance, and subsequently won the national championship.
Craig and I walk down the main avenue, people-watching. I note the latest trend of women wearing skirts that are more a suggestion than an article of clothing. I felt decidedly uncool (more so than normal) because I don’t put gel in my hair or unbutton my silk shirt to my sternum. I guess I should either buy more designer-label clothing or forget about entering a club that features a fog-spewing VW Bug on the dance floor.
Saturday, March 20, 2004
Craig and I use the first part of the day to catch up on writing-we are here on business, after all.
The State and Xavier players avoid saying anything that could make the opposing team’s bulletin board during the press conferences. Stansbury compliments the Musketeers so much that I almost forget MSU has won every game it has ever played against them.
But this is the NCAA Tournament. Previous records mean nothing. Any team that can knock off St. Joseph’s and come from behind against Louisville is a team to be taken seriously. The talking heads on ESPN and CBS are saying Xavier is the hottest team in the country. For once, they might be right.
We skip covering the MSU pep rally (surely you know what a pep rally is like) and head to the beach. When we get to New Smyrna, we thank the seeding committee for not sending State to Raleigh or-God forbid-Buffalo.
Sunday, March 21, 2004
Although it would’ve been the epitome of unsportsmanlike conduct, Shane Power had the only solution to Xavier’s Lionel Chalmers.
“Maybe we should’ve told Branden (Vincent) to just go out and tackle him,” Power said.
Short of assault, Chalmers was unbeatable. On press row, I sat next to the NCAA official in charge of evaluating referees. At one point during the second half, he passed me a note saying “Unbelievable-Chalmers has gone 6 for 6.”
Even though I bleed Maroon and White, I couldn’t help but admire the athleticism displayed by Chalmers. I’ve never seen a better single performance by a basketball player.
But being Bulldogs, Craig and I roundly cursed Chalmers and Xavier in general during the drive home. The long, long drive back home.
During the eighth hour of the drive, we also cursed the State entourage who was flying (in a charter!) above us.
Bottom line: the next you want to visit the land of Mickey and Minnie, spring for the plane tickets. Either that, or be prepared to drink your weight in coffee.