Don't miss A Journey Through The Madness in 14 Days: 65 to 4 -- Part 2: Howling in Nashville (3/29/05)

On The Plate ... 3/28/05

A Journey Through The Madness in 14 Days: 65 to 4.

Part 1 - Picking Up The Pieces

You know I didn't allow myself to write anything over the last two weeks because of being painfully superstitious, right? You know that once Villanova got seeded in the Nashville bracket I went to work in a straight-jacket for 3 days, right? You know that while in Nashville The Mayor, Disco, PartyBoy and the CSG all got Pittsnogle haircuts, right? You know that we all witnessed the worst call in the history of the Sweet 16, right? You know that if, after watching this past weekend's regional finals, there is any chance that you or anyone you've ever known has not officially become a full-blooded psychotic college hoops fan that they need to call their doctor immediately, hook up some Cialis and get their blood moving as soon as possible, right?

Where do I even begin? The 'Ville down 20? The Catamounts? UW-Milwaukee "Pearl"? A boy named Ollie, oh wait, I mean Sparks? The resurgence of The General? The failure of Bill Self? A town called Morgantown? The DTA turns Sweet? Lute's All-Insurgent Team? Huggy-Bear's early hibernation (again)? Prince Bogut of Melbourne? Izzo's Babe impersonation? The Illini's f'ing comeback?!? I mean, where?

The Cats. That's where. Obviously.

In January, if you had told me that Villanova would 1) make the tournament 2) be a #5 seed and 3) make it to the Sweet 16, I would have promptly told you to stop f'ing with me. Period. Not cool.

The fact that I was in Nashville, in Gaylord Arena, when Villanova advanced to the Sweet 16 is unbelievable. The fact that I got to do it with one of my brothers and three of my buddies made it unstoppable. 'Nova made it to the Sweet 16 for the first time since 1988. And I was there. Say what? Say "Let's go Nova!" And we did. Many, many times. Coming next: Part 2 - Howling in Nashville. You want stories? The CSG's got stories. The themes? Windbreakers, professional wrestlers, the sound a Lobo makes, Dale Jr's, and a welcoming to the "family."

Don't worry, I'm flooding this biatch up until the first tip Saturday night. But first thing's first. I need to get some poison out of my system. And you know what I'm talking about…

F UNC. Yep, "func"…my new favorite word. Or maybe my old favorite word that I had forgotten about. Those cocky, golf-shirt tucked into khaki-short, New Balance and Croakie wearing bastards have officially climbed the ladder back onto my "When you lose, I laugh" list. Yes, "back." Let me explain. I used to hate UNC like no other when Dean was at the helm. In fact, I might have been the only person that actually hated Dean himself. Why? Dean always won. And did so in such a monotone manner. And his teams were always filled with pains-in-the-ass. JR Reid, Donald Williams, Eric Montross, Brad Dougherty, Dante Calabria. But after Dean left, and Chapel Hill fell off the map under Matt Doherty, I got weak and began to feel badly that UNC basketball was in such disarray. You know, one of those "UNC should be good. I think it sucks that they are 8-20. I think I might smoke some more crack." Well, guess what? No more crack for me and no more disarray in Chapel Hill. Those freaks are back in the Four, and to do so, they took my boy Roy from Kansas. And now, I officially hate them again.

And one more thing…Roy is officially dead to me. What? "But CSG, I thought you loved Roy? Why you gotta be hating on him?" I'll tell you why. Roy's post-Villanova-game comment "I talked to Bill Raftery after the game and he said it was a travel. But everything from my end looks like a travel. Golly-gee, golly-shucks. I might cry." was complete BS. The Roy I used to know and love would have, at the very least, given Villanova credit for going blow for blow with UNC and said something to the degree of "It's a shame that a game of that caliber had to end on a call like that." That's all I wanted from Roy. And I didn't get it. And, in turn, Roy lost a big fan. (Go back to Kansas, Roy. Please. You're killing me. And Lawrence, KS too.)

When did UNC become everyone's favorite team? When did "Mr. Big East" Bill Raftery decide to sign his soul over to the ACC and repeatedly kiss UNC's ass on national television? The Baltimore Sun wrote "UNC Reigns" after their win over Villanova. Say what? How about "UNC gets a handout from referee Tim O'Neill to advance"? Or "UNC Sneaks by Tough-as-Balls Villanova"? Or "Villanova minus Sumpter gives UNC all it can handle"? Or "F UNC"? Hmmm. Hmmm! (As you may be noticing, the VU outcome is not sitting well with me. The fact of the matter is the Cats should still be playing. Or should have at least played Wisconsin in the 8. There isn't a doubt in my mind.)

For the record, I love Bill Raftery. Yea, he's pissed me off something fierce with all of his UNC chirping but I know it's a CBS thing. CBS always wants the big Comanche's to advance. It's f'ing Billy Packer's fault. I'm sure of it. In his heart, Raftery wanted the Cats to win. At least that's what I want to believe and will for my own peace of mind.

If UNC is the "most talented" team in America, what does that say then about Villanova who loses by 1 without their second leading scorer and top rebounder? And Allen Ray, 'Nova's leading scorer, decides he can't throw it in the ocean from the beach? You realize that Ray was 2-15 from the floor in the game. Where does that leave the Cats? If Villanova isn't every bit as good as UNC, then I'm not the CSG, I'm a moron. (Please don't comment on that.) How good is Kyle Lowry going to be? Seriously. We nicknamed him "The Jet" in Nashville. Homeboy put on a show. He's going to be sick. God! (For the second record, my Mom got a Lowry tattoo after his brilliant performance against Florida. It's on her neck. Biggin' Chinese symbol. Symbol translates to K-Lo. It's f'ing money.)

The "walk." Not a walk. How about an "and 1"? Foul on Papa Smurf Melvin Scott. Puts Ray on the line to tie it. Give the Heels a shot to win, or we go an extra five minutes. Sound good? Does to me. But I'm not bitching about the "walk." Well, I am, but I'm not dwelling on it. What I'm dwelling on is that now I know, I know, that the Cats can play with anybody and beat anybody. And when you know that, and you lose in the Dance, it hurts. It hurts bad.

But I have to be honest. It's the best damn pain I've had in years. Actually, the best pain I've had in 17 years. Sweet 16. Legit no matter how you cut it.

The fact of the matter is that I have to keep spitting this column out. Two years writing…back to back Sweet 16s for my teams. Last year, the Dores. This year the Cats. The voodoo lives. More on the way…Life on the Nashville Killing Streets around the bend.