GAMES 3 & 4: Upper West Side Represent!
Did you know that Columbia University's campus in Morningside Heights is built on the former site of the Bloomingdale Insane Asylum? One could assume, given this, that the school's basketball program would be perfectly situated for March Madness. Or, one could also assume, that maybe the students are all just batshit crazy. On Saturday night, I actually found neither to be true. Nevertheless, we had work to do. The Nuts were about to go Ivy.

Ivy Insanity.

Two reasons why the above image was NOT taken from the game on Saturday night: 1) Sadly, the game never got that exciting. 2) We had to leave the camera behind for more precious cargo: A bottle of Rum. Yes, no one will ever fault R., who will thusly be dubbed 'Captain Morgan', for not following Roundball Rule #1. Also, no one will ever fault the Captain for failing to produce an inappropriate remark, as was exhibited at his apartment prior to the game. As he pulled on his black trench coat, sliding the rum into the interior pocket, he exclaimed -- nay, guaranteed -- that "we will be invited to a sorority party tonight." Ok, whatever you say Joe Willie.

Meanwhile, uptown, our valiant heroine Nut, H., scrambled to get to the box office two hours ahead of tip-time to secure our tickets. Who knew you had to get tickets ahead of time for an Ivy League game? I mean, really, an Ivy League game??. Nevertheless, H. earned her Roundball stripes by beating the mad rush, picking up 3 tix and texting us the good news. She will thusly be known by the nickname of 'Ducats'.

So the Captain and I, after some requisite pre-funking at his nest, boogied up to the Heights where we met Ducats at a joint called, appropriately enough, 'The Heights'. And I kid you not, in a place haunted by the ghosts of Kerouac and Ginsberg, there next to her at the bar sat a cliche in a sweater. Joe Columbia, hair appropriately mussed, nursing an import, reading a Dylan biography. He stroked his goatee, looked up, and muttered, "cool, daddy-o." Ahhh yes, we were amongst the Lions. And it was gametime.

Don't fuck with the Lions.

Game 3: Columbia Lions (10-5) vs. Penn Quakers (8-6)
Ahh, Columbia. Proud, proud Columbia. Home to such luminaries as Meadow Soprano, Daredevil (look it up), and both Will and Grace. Wow. This is the place where Peter Parker was bit by the spider, where Peter Venkman first made the moves on Dana Barret, and where Jessie Spano matriculated after graduating from Bayside, leaving Zach, Screech and the rest of the gang behind. The tradition here is thick and rich, but mostly, rich.

In all sincerity, the campus is gorgeous. The Gothic Revival architecture, Low Library, the Campus Walk, Butler Library. Check it out:



Gorgeous, right? I thought so. And that's why I was so surprised when we rounded a corner, followed a crowd and suddenly descended down an uninspired flight of utilitarian concrete steps underneath what appeared to be a parking garage. This was Levien Gym.



I started to get the feeling that not much of all that money flowing through this place goes into the basketball program. No wonder they haven't made the tournament since 1968. Still, it was a nice little gym, and they gave us free pom-poms at the door, so that was cool. The small size of the gym did present some problems however. The Captain is perhaps better suited for bigger arenas, where he has some room to spread out. When you're in a gym that holds under 3,000 you can pretty much hear everything, so the loud proclamation of, "oh, dude! second cheerleader on the right! check that out!" from the guy with the Charlie Manson beard and the black trench coat, gets noticed. Let's just say we weren't invited to any sorority parties.


Fun Fact #1: Many Ivy League cheerleaders wear glasses. How perfect is that?
Fun Fact #2: Most Ivy League cheerleaders are scared of middle-aged men in black trench coats.

I'll say one thing about the Captain though: He is nothing if not resourceful. This being a campus event, the food and drink selections were somewhat limited, the notion of walking vendors downright preposterous. But that didn't stop The Captain, no sirree. At halftime, he spied a man coming up the aisle, an older gentleman clutching a Zabar's bag (this is, after all, the Upper West). "I want whatever you have in that bag!" blurted the Captain, pointing wildly at the man's dinner. Somehow, on the heels of that rum-fueled greeting, our fearless Captain was able to persuade this man he was not only a Columbia grad (not true), but that he was also Jewish (he's not). he proved this through his extensive knowledge of the particulars of the Kosher diet. The result of all this Tommy Flanaganism? The Captain started the 2nd half with a fresh knish. Ducats and I were hungry. And confused.

Oh, the game? You want to know about the game? Well, let's see, the Penn Quakers have made the Big Dance 22 times, most recently in 2006. Columbia has jitterbugged in only three times, most recently in 1968. But tonight was to be different. Oh yes, tonight, all previous Ivy dominance by Penn was to be thrown out the window. Columbia was brimming with confidence after an upset win over archrival Princeton the night before. They had soldiered through a rugged pre-season with a sparkling 9 wins. They had the better record. Penn had traveled all night and was sure to be tired. The Quakers were ripe for an upset! Let's go Lions!

Then, the game started. It wasn't even close. They sorta hung around in the first half, only to see Penn drain a halfcourt prayer as time expired before halftime. Demoralizing. The Lions were down more than 20 before the Captain finished his pilfered knish. Our proud Lions would fall on this evening, dropping one for The Empire. If you see this guy in the street, give him a punch in his soft, plushy face please. Do it for the Lions.



FINAL: 43 69 (recap)

There can be nothing worse than losing to a bunch of oatmeal-loving pacifists. Seriously, there isn't enough Rum on the planet to soothe that wound.


Game 4: UConn Huskies (12-3) vs. St. John's Red Storm (10-6)
After bidding the Captain adieu for the evening, Ducats and I hopped in a magic taxi cab and transported ourselves about 80 blocks south, hitting the Garden just in time for our second game of the evening, St. John's vs. Connecticut. This game would mark the initial outing for our fourth and final member of the core Nuts crew, known simply as The Perfesser.

Frankly, having already attended a St. John's game at the Garden, this was a take-it-or-leave-it game; the decision to attend wasn't even made until after the Lions game ended. Our appetites unsated by our trip uptown, we were still hungry to see at least one NYC team win. Of course, that meant relying on an unspectacular Storm squad versus a nationally ranked, perennial contender like UConn. Still, on any given night...

... yeah, sure, whatever. This thing was over fast. I think Columbia could've given St. John's a run on this night. Seriously, this one was a stinker. By the middle of the 2nd half, a majority of the non-UConn fans still in the house were crowded around the TVs above the concession stands to watch the end of the Saints/Eagles playoff game. Somewhere, one of Louie Carnesseca's sweaters rolled over in its grave.

FINAL: 59 68 (recap)

And the Empire goes 0 for 2 on the evening. Ouch. It was a rough first outing for The Perfesser. After seeing the mess the Storm made on the court against UConn, we're really hoping he's willing to come out again. No worries, we'll lure him with beer. And rum. And cheerleaders.

Until next time, Nuts to you all.