04's Attempt: OU vs. Virginia Commonwealth Recap
The Stuart Siegel Center in Richmond, Virginia, is a testament to everything the Lloyd Noble Center is not. Parking is non-existant. Intimacy is prevalent and acoustics is a polite way of saying, “Damn! It’s loud in here.” As I drove down Broad Street the first seeds of worry began to grow in my brain. From every direction poured people. Gobs of people. Mobs of people dressed in yellow and black. Had they worn gray I’d sworn I was looking at the Army of Northern Virginia. Once inside the yells were not of the rebel variety, but they pierced me just the same. Their call was a simple one, “Where is Capel? [clap] [clap] [clap-clap-clap]
Now the seeds of worry turned into giant oaks of concern. I put on an the aura of non-chalance for my wife (kind of like the one Stoops puts on when his team is getting its butt handed back to them), but the fingernail-massacre going on in front of her told her everything she needed to know: this was a trap.
If the citizens of Richmond had shown this much moxie in the face of superiority as the Civil War wound down the conflict may have lasted a few more years. This was no Appomattox Courthouse; this was Fredericksburg! Our defense was subjected to more deep artillery than the defenders of Fort Sumter. VCU’s got a guy with a wingspan as wide as Manute Bol is tall. Did you know he could shoot threes? Me neither! Here’s comes some clown they just signed up from Virginia Commonwealth-Staunton’s campus. He can shoot too? You bet.
Over and over this played out. Our defense was so rattled by the first TV timeout that any hope of cohesion was lost. But we hung around, and I’ve seen enough double-digit leads evaporate to know that we still had a decent chance. I put on my professor’s cap and explained to my wife that being down by 10 at the end of the first half wasn’t all bad. They’ve shot their wad, I said. They’ve played the best ball they could possibly play. They should be killing us, mauling us! We should look like that lady who got her limbs torn off by that chimp, I said. But we’re only down 10! Look for us to come out in the second half and roll these clowns.
Two minutes into the second half, and about two seconds after the Rams bumped the lead back up to 14, my wife decided to twist the knife in my side.
Mrs. 04: What say you now, oh wise one who sees all?
04: My dear, we’re screwed.
I left the Siegel Center with fire in my eyes, bile in my esophagus and a smile on my face. Why the smile? Because we’re young, we’re inexperienced and we have much to learn. It was said many times after that first game that this team will both electrify us and drive us nuts, sometimes in the same week, sometimes in the same game, sometimes in the same possession. If I were coaching I’d have this game tape heaved from the plane somewhere above the Blue Ridge Mountains, but we’ve got Jeff Capel manning this ship, and he’ll have much ammunition to pepper his troops with in the practices leading up to our trip north to Alaska.
SCORING BREAKDOWN:
1st – 18 [manatee droppings]
2nd – 16 [dysentery]
3rd – 17 [scurvy]
4th – 18 [yellow mother custard]
LEADING SCORERS:
19 – Tony Crocker
15 – Tiny Gallon
11 – Steven Pledger
10 – Tommy Mason-Griffin
LEADING REBOUNDERS:
11 – Tiny Gallon
7 – Tommy Mason-Griffin (<------ What?)
6 – Tony Crocker
5 – Ryan Wright
PLUSES:
1. Tony Crocker – The Crock Pot was the only reason the Ram Student Section didn’t rush the floor at halftime. God only knows what the score would’ve been if Tony hadn’t tried his best to take the game over. 13 hard-earned points in the first half and 19 for the game, otherwise we’re on the receiving end of an unholy thumping.
2. Tiny Gallon – Dude was completely shell-shocked early on, but he manned up and played well for us later in the game. His defense? Like Lee after Pickett’s Charge…..no comment.
MINUSES:
1. Defense – At the age of 5, Helen Keller was better at defensive communication than these guys are. I won’t harp on it because college basketball isn’t a set of one-game must haves. You get your butt kicked, you lick your wounds and you fight another day. I doubt we’ll ever see defense again from this group as bad as what we saw Saturday. They must communicate better. It’s been said that defense travels, and I think that’s true. But these guys let the world crashing down around them on offense affect how they played defense. Big mistake.
2. Outside shooting – Were we so freaked out by Garry Shandling, I mean Larry Sanders, that we decided we’d live and die by the outside shot? I sure hope not. They were open, and I guess that’s a plus, but it was the Sally Struthers Brick-a-Thon for the most part. Cash for Clangers would’ve made us all rich men.
3. The Contract – VCU, the squirmy devils! Putting this return clause in Capel’s original contract was a stroke of brilliance. I’m not sure a soul dressed in crimson wanted any part of this game, and it showed. Chalk it up to experience, but pass the white out.
It was a maddening game for sure. We’d go from down 15 to down eight to down 15 and back again. We could never get that stop to get us a little over the hump. We could never hit the big shot to make them sweat. It’s not a season killer. Hell, we may be all dancing to “Feels so Good” if we roll through the West Klondike and bring home the Great Alaska Shootout. I doubt we’re that good, but I know we’re nowhere near as bad as we were Saturday night.
Let VCU have their fun. They wanted this game so much, and they were busting at the seams before tip-off. That’s fine, good for them. We’ll be in the NCAAs come March and they’ll be at home watching it on TV. Perspective is always key in the down times, and one must always remind his or her self that things could always be worse.
Remember, our point guard may have a mustache, but his name isn’t Landry Jones.
Here I am in a heated debate with Thomas Jefferson of Virginia, who made the ludicrous claim that Ralph Sampson was a better collegiate player than Wayman Tisdale. Much like his views on the powers of the states, he found himself on the wrong side of the issue here as well.
Honest Abe of Illinois wanted to know how in the world our '88 team lost to Kansas in the finals. I countered with wondering how in the wide world his '89 Flying Illini lost to Michigan in the national semifinals. Neither of us had an answer, and neither of us is over the outcome of either game.
And here I am in Richmond, striking a pose very similar to the one General George Armstrong Custer struck before he rode his horse into Medicine Tail Coulee.
Thank you for your time.
Bazinga
Originally Posted by stoops the eternal pimp
