ROUNDBALL NUTS

2007-03-15T00:01:00.000-04:00

WAZZU vs. GOD

Tomorrow, my beloved alma mater, the Washington State Cougars, plays in only its 5th ever NCAA tournament and its first in 13 years. This Nut is very excited. Of course, damn the Cougar luck that they would be pitted against a team with a 900-foot-tall Jesus on its side, Oral Roberts. Still, any shool that counts Kathie Lee Gifford and Ted Haggard amongst its alum doesn't deserve to go too far. Seriously, Kathie Lee Gifford??

Pray for her.

Indeed, the cultural differences between these two schools are vast. When I was a student at WSU, we were consistently ranked among the top party schools in the nation by Playboy Magazine. At Oral Roberts, students were finally allowed to wear jeans on campus last year. This, from Wikipedia:

Students are required to sign a pledge stating they will live according to the university's honor code. Prohibited activities include lying, cursing, smoking, drinking, gambling, and illicit sexual acts including homosexual behavior.

Hell, I majored in all but that last one at Wazzu.

In early 2004 the student dress code was greatly relaxed for the first time in forty years. Prior to that time, men were required to wear button-down shirts and ties, while women were required to wear skirts. The dress code could now be described as "business casual". In 2006, the dress code was relaxed even further, allowing students to wear jeans to class, and for the first time, allowing men to wear non-button-down shirts (i.e., t-shirts). However, restrictions for men on hair length and facial hair still remain.

Ummm, has anyone seen this Cougar team?

Sinners, all of 'em. My goodness, we are going to scare the 900-ft. Bejeezus out of ORU when they see us. Good.

Come on Cougs, just play your game tomorrow... and bring the hellfire down on Oral Bob.

Go Cougs!

MORE
CSTV: Game Preview
S-R: All Cougs, All the Time
NY Times: WSU Driving Foes Mad
All About Oral: The Man and The School

2007-03-09T17:19:00.000-05:00

THANK YOU, MAY I HAVE ANOTHER?

Members of Washington's team sit on the bench during the final moments of Washington's 74-64 loss to Washington State in a second-round game at the Pac 10 men's basketball tournament. (AP Photo/Matt Sayles)

Once again, the WSU Cougars put the UW Puppies in their place last night, this time with a gutty 74-64 victory in the Pac-10 tournament. Damn, how many times do we have to end your season guys? Really, it's getting kind of painful... in a sadistically enjoyable way of course.

Good luck in the NIT Dawgs. You'll be great, I'm sure!

Sing it with me Puppies: Whoze UR Daddy???!

Hell, we even own you on your own alumni website. That shit's funny.

2007-02-16T01:56:00.000-05:00

GAME 9: IN THE CRIMINAL JUSTICE SYSTEM...

Welcome to the Bronx. This is 'Suits'. He will break your face.

Ever feel like you're in an episode of Law & Order? If you haven't, you've never been to Fordham University in the Bronx. The 9th game in our little tour of Gotham college hoops outposts brought us to the infamous borough oft-associated with gang violence, widespread arson and the Son of Sam. Sure, we'd visited the Bronx before, but it was some fairy-tale, fantasyland version of the Bronx known as Riverdale. Doesn't count. This was the real shit.

My fellow Nut, referred to as both Ducats and Magellan in previous entries and identified by the handle of Briscoe here, gets huge kudos for her willingness to make the adventurous trek on a Thursday night to the upper reaches of the Bronx for a 9 pm tip time between Fordham and UMass. We met at a bar in the relatively safe oasis of Manhattan to drink enough courage before heading north nearly 200 blocks. The D-train (for 'Death'?) dropped us at Fordham Road, just south of 200th St. As we ascended the stairs to exit the station, we called our families to say goodbye and checked to make sure our firearms were locked and loaded. We were good to go.

Once we surfaced, we realized just how far from our destination (aka 'the nearest bar') we actually were. We quickly realized we were going to have to ride a bus. Oh the horror. Still, it got us right quick to Arthur Ave., the storied heart of old Italian Bronx. This is where Jake friggin' Lamotta used to knock the snot out of people. After retiring from boxing, Lamotta opened up a few bars in the neighborhood, one of which could have easily been Mugz's, where Briscoe and I ended up for a pre-game beer and a shot. And no, that's not a typo, that's exactly what the buzzing, broken neon above the door said.

He didn't excel at spelling.

Mugz's is where we met Suits, who, despite the earlier reference to face-breaking, is actually a very nice guy. We asked Suits for a little history on the place, but sadly he did not regale us with tales of Lamotta and Cus D'Amato breaking skulls and sucking back Ballantine's together. No, instead he informed us that Mugz's 'has been a Fordham bar since 1989...' Then, before we had a chance to ask him what it was before that, he became distracted by the new episode of Smallville glowing from the small TV above the bar. Suddenly, things felt a lot less dangerous -- and whole lot less interesting -- so we downed our drinks and bade Suits a fond farewell. I'm sure he would've returned the sentiment had he not been so engrossed in the intense, on-screen chemistry between Lex and Lois.

As difficult as it was, we pulled ourselves out of Mugz's and made the short walk across a gorgeous campus to the dank, sweaty confines of the oldest gymnasium still in use in Division I college basketball, Rose Hill Gym. It was game time, Bronx-style.

GAME 9: UMass Minutemen (17-7) vs. Fordham Rams (13-10)
Tonight was special. Tonight, the bright lights of ESPN shone on this tiny gym at the center of the old Bronck farm. Ok, the dim bulbs of ESPN2, but still, the game was on national TV, and the crowd was pumped. The seats were filled. The students were loud. People sported body paint. And one guy had a Mexican wrestling mask on. Beautiful.

Ole.

Briscoe and I quickly found a seat a few rows up from the UMass bench. Looking around, we noticed most of the bodies around us were 1) Not painted. 2) Not sporting Fordham colors. And 3) Old. We weren't having any of that noise. Within about 30 seconds we had done the right thing and crammed ourselves into the student section right behind the basket. I was within high-fiving distance of wrestling mask guy. It was perfect. It's been a few years -- ok, more than a decade -- since I last attended a basketball game in which I stood from start to finish. Tonight, fueled by the ale of Mugz's and the spirit surrounding me, Briscoe and I would pull it off.

We even remained standing through the lameness of this:

In case the video doesn't do this justice, that guy in what appears to be a turban is apparently supposed to be a Minuteman. As the two Rams mascots converge on him to either beat or possibly rape him, the great reveal shows that he's actually sporting a Fordham t-shirt. All involved become friends, the crowd roars, and we remained standing.

Frankly, as lame as that little sketch was, it was the only reason to stand during the first part of the game. By far, it was the most thrilling and best executed moment of the first 10 minutes. Check out the scoreboard at the 10:36 mark:

Good god. Seriously, it was ugly. It was painful. It was slow. And yet, we remained standing. Seriously, a medal was in order.

Luckily, both teams picked it up after that point, UMass jumping out to a 10-point lead in a matter of minutes, only to be answered by a furious Fordham surge that brought the Rams within 3 at the break. And that's when I spotted this guy:

If you'll recall from our earlier experience in Riverdale, this is Freddy Sez, frequent pan-banging denizen of Yankee Stadium and what I thought was a loyal Manhattan Jasper fan. But now, seeing him here at a Fordham game, pan firmly in hand, I had to question the guy's allegiance. He was two-timing the Jaspers, dressed in Fordham scarlet. He was a scarlet harlot. It was a crushing realization, kind of like finding out that Santa Claus doesn't exist. I needed answers.

During halftime, I tracked Freddy down outside the gym to demand an explanation. I told him we'd seen him earlier in the season at the Jaspers game and I pleaded with him, "how can you cheer for both teams Freddy? how can you do it??" My voice rising in exasperation and anger, I was ready to go all Lamotta on him. And then, he answered: His one good eye looked straight at me and through a toothless grin, Freddy Sez said "I cheer for the Bronx."

Go on Freddy. Keep banging that pan.

After that, there really isn't much point in recapping the 2nd half, particularly given the fact that the hometown Rams completely ran out of steam and ended up losing by almost 20. Freddy's heartfelt profession of loyalty to 'da Bronx was more than enough to make for a satisfactory evening.

We did stay 'till the end, and we did remain standing the entire time. By the time we filed out of Rose Hill, we too were loyal to the Bronx. So much so in fact, we went back to the Mugz's to share in the revelry of a blowout loss with the Fordham faithful. It is, after all, 'a Fordham bar.' Since 1989 anyway. Suits says so. And if you disagree? Well, he'll break your face. Bronx style.

FINAL: 74 59 (recap)

Bronx gypsy cab.

2007-02-15T03:22:00.000-05:00

DAWG POUNDING.

Huskies senior Hans Gasser covers his head as he heads off the court.

Um, Hahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha!!

COUGARS 65, puppies 61

From ESPN.com:

"Does it get any sweeter than crippling your arch rival's at-large hopes and moving a step closer to at least a share of the Pac-10 title? This is not a team to be ignored come mid-March. Dangerous opponent for a name team."

Damn straight.

Whoze 'dat dunkin on all ur doodz??!

2007-02-12T23:30:00.000-05:00

GAMES 6, 7 & 8: GETTIN' ILLY IN PHILLY
Philly got Fat Game.

We hit the Holland Tunnel just after 10:30 on a gorgeous Saturday morning, giddy with anticipation for the College Hoops Orgy we were about to partake in. I have never been to an actual orgy, but I imagine the feelings of anxious excitement are similar, just with more KY. Our bellies full of coffee, bagel and McGriddle, we were on our way, ready to journey into the heart of hoopness known as Illadelphia. What the day had in store for us we had no idea, but we knew the bag of rum minatures the Captain held tightly on his lap would come in handy.

With us on our trip is the aforementioned Captain, he of the up-for-anything attitude and inappropriate cheerleader commentary. Also with us is the previously dubbed Ducats, who shall be re-monikered Magellen for the purposes of this adventure due to her unique navigational abilities. Not only will she guide us through the wilds of South Philly, she will also lead us to an experience known simply as Route 73. But that is a story for later. Right now, Magellen is at the wheel, I'm riding shotgun, and the Captain is in the back seat trying to digest his McGriddle.

The drive to Philly is a short one, we were there just after noon, providing us plenty of time to get to our first game of the day, St. Joe's vs. LaSalle at the Palestra. What we didn't count on were those unique navigational skills Magellen brought to the table. The maps she had apparently had the game taking place at The Linc, where the Eagles soar. And so, we took the circuitous route through South Philly, an area once dominated by Italians but not, apparently, the thriving home to Vietnamese and Cambodian immigrants. Suddenly, I had flashes of Captain Willard's journey upriver to find Col. Kurtz.

'I love the smell of Yuengling in the morning... don't you?'

We really were entering the heart of hoopness. I was scared. Would we make it out alive? Would there be napalm on our soft pretzels? And who would be our Kurtz, Phil Martelli?

After a brief panic, we stumbled onto Broad Street and our path was righted again. Appropriately enough, the Nutsmobile took a turn onto Chestnut (or was it Walnut?) and took us straight to our destination, the U. Penn campus in West Philly.

It was just about tip time when we pulled into the garage. We gathered our supplies: Tickets? Check. Binocs? Check. Camera? Check. Collection of tiny rum bottles surreptitiously stuffed into my pants? Check. The bar was, appropriately enough, right next to my nuts. We were ready. Let's go see The Palestra.

Game 6: LaSalle Explorers (9-15) vs. St. Joseph's Hawks (13-10)
The date on the outside of The Palestra says 1926. The smell inside whiffs of 1978, and that's a good thing. It smells like Ed Pinckney's sweatsocks, like warm pretzels and popcorn, like what a Saturday afternoon in winter should smell like. It smells like college basketball. You can almost hear John Chaney's raspy voice bouncy off the cold, concrete walls. The plaques in the narrow corriders speak rapturously of tradition and rivalry and sportsmanship. The trophy cases are filled with timeless artifacts that don't necessarily glow or sparkle. No, these trophies look like something Indiana Jones dodged arrows in Guatemala to get his hands on. They are timeless, as is this place. And here's what it looks like:

(Click for video)

In preparation for this trip, I'd heard a lot about this place. I'd read the comparisons to other legendary venues -- Fenway, Wrigley and the like -- and frankly, I didn't believe any of them. As a kid growing up way out in the hinterlands of Seattle, I knew nothing of The Palestra, but I'd heard of those other places. And now, while I still can't rank it up there with the Fenways or Wrigleys, I can certainly understand the special memories the place must evoke for Philly natives who grew up seeing games here. It is what college basketball should be.

To me, the best part was seeing a packed house crowd into the hot gym to see two mediocre teams. The records don't matter so much when it's a Big 5 game, I learned that quickly. The only thing that matters is beating the other team. It's rivalry, that's what it is. And a Big 5 game at the Palestra means a strictly divided house. Today, one side was clad in St. Joe's red, the other in LaSalle yellow. Situated behind the baskets, the students stand the entire game, cheering their teams and attempting to shout down their rivals across the court.

vs.

Throughout the contest the students produce large, long, homemade banners taunting the other side. These are the "rollouts", and these are tradition at The Palestra. The idea is not just to produce the most banners during a game, but also to come up with the most clever insults. It's sort of like a giant 'zingers' or 'snaps' contest, but with magic markers. On this day, St. Joe's fans won the rollout battle almost as easily as their team won the basketball game.

LaSalle's inability to compete in the Atlantic-10 conference was a recurring theme of the St. Joe's rollout show. One banner said, "LaSalle: Future MAAC Champs". Of course, the A-10 is kind of a shit conference this year, so they best tone it down less the MAAC coming looking to kick some ass.

It would've been awesome to see a tight game to experience The Palestra when it's really rocking, but this is one element of our day the Nuts cannot control. We are powerful, but we are not that powerful. On this day, St. Joe's thoroughly dominated. The Hawks simply rolled, leading 37-19 at half and never letting the lead slip below 16 the rest of the way. LaSalle just looked lost, which is funny, cuz, you know, they're the Explorers. It wasn't even an entertaining blowout. The most exciting thing that happend was some guy from St. Joe's extended his 35-straight free throw streak. Whoo boy. Thankfully, we had the Palestra, and the cheer squads, to entertain us in this one.

The Captain reprised his role as our resident spirit squad scientist and dance team critic. He quickly assessed the situation, judging LaSalle's cheer team superior to St. Joe's (at least they won something). Of course, LaSalle's spirit unit should've quit while they were ahead. The Captain had been pretty convincingly swayed to dub them the winners, but then LaSalle had to go and introduce their 'dance team', The Xplorettes. They not only sound like a cough suppresent, they dance like one too. It's a shame really, the way they managed to snatch defeat out of the jaws of victory. It just wasn't LaSalle's day.

Turn your head and cough.

Just to be clear, and to protect the Captain's good name, this isn't just some perverted exercise by an older man with rum in his pants, the Captain judges these teams on their skill, their enthusiasm, and their ability to fire up the fans. He judges them on the shortness of their skirts too, but mostly it's about the skill.

As the clock wound down and St. Joe's scrubs starting scoring on the Explorers, many of the LaSalle faithful valiantly attempted to hold their heads high, including these two guys. This shot is with about a minute left in the game and their team down by 20:

This is them seconds later, their team now down 22:

Keep the faith guys, we're making you honorary Nuts for the spirit you showed. Good work. And remember, you'll always have Lionel Simmons. Oh L-Train, where have you gone to?

FINAL: 72 50 (recap)

Our thirst for some quality college hoops action barely whetted by the 22-point blowout we'd just witnessed, we bunkered down at a too-quiet pizza place to plot our next move. We managed to re-fuel with some beers and, in my case, a shot of Jaeger (hey, if you're gonna go college, go all the way...). We caught up on games from around the nation, noticing that WVU had upset UCLA while we were suffering through an Explorer massacre (dammit, why didn't we roadtrip to Morgantown!). And we had two very important questions answered: Where was the nearest liquor store? And where was the nearest Irish pub?

After re-stocking the bar in our pants, we got our courage up and readied ourselves for the next leg of our journey: A trip to The Bad Part of Town.

GAME 7: Delaware Blue Hens (5-20) vs. Drexel Dragons (18-6)
According to one of Magellen's sources, the North side is the bad part of town. The North side is also where Drexel University is, and we're on a misson here, so we took our chances. And I must admit, we passed through some pretty rough terrain. Danger seemed to lurk on every corner. The shadows played tricks on us. We tried not to make eye contact with anyone or anything. It was a harrowing trek indeed, but eventually we made it. Yes, we'd gone the 3 blocks from the Palestra without losing a single Nut. The team was intact.

We'd made our way to the Drexel Athletic Center, the DAC. We were now out of the Big 5, and far, far away from the majesty of the Palestra. They do things differently at the DAC, and as much as we enjoyed the thick tradition wafting through the halls of the Palestra, there was something about this little gym that really got our juices flowing.

The place can't seat more than 1,500 we decided, but it was jumping. The pep band was rocking, the DAC Pack (student section) was roaring, and there were cheerleaders everywhere. The Captain was ecstatic. It was a full house, a very hot gym and a fun place to watch a game. Hell, they even did the wave...

Normally, I would frown on this type of behavior, but not here. As cliche and tired as the wave is, it seemed to fit perfectly here at the DAC. In fact, I think that's the DAC's primary asset: It's obvious desire to have a good time, even if some of its methods are a bit retarded. And when I say retarded, I mean this:

Um, ok.

Yep, there's a little bit of everything at the DAC. In fact, Drexel's gym has something that every Division I arena in America should install immediately: FoosBall and Table Hockey.

Man, do these people know how to live or what??

Of course, in the midst of all this spirit, Magellen and I had the audacity to openly pull for the mighty Blue Hens of Delaware, the most dangerous 5-20 team in the nation. The Captain played it safe and stuck with the home team. A very nice woman sitting behind us very politely said, "you can't sit here and root for them." We smiled, then turned back around and continued to cheer for our Blue Hens. You see Magellen is from Delaware, so we did have reason. Plus, we Nuts love a good underdog.

Rooting for the Hens proved tricky for several reasons. For one, the gym was so small it was tough to be subtle (although, the more I drank my pants, the less of a stumbling block that became). For two, we were seated directly behind the Drexel bench. And when I say directly, I mean we could smell head coach Bruiser Flint's breath. We were practically in the huddle with them. For three, the Blue Hens suck.

Actually, that's not entirely true. Delaware hung in the game until midway through the second half. Up until then, Drexel couldn't shake them. For a while there, it actually looked as though we were going to see a good game. Sadly, it didn't turn out that way, Drexel would eventually prevail 77-62. Magellen and I didn't let it get to us for too long though, we were thoroughly enjoying the atmosphere, and by that I mean our rum buzzes.

But where oh where was The Captain? We noticed he hadn't returned after his halftime walkabout, which was only slightly odd. We checked to see if he'd joined the band, perhaps putting his nascent sousaphone skills to work, but no luck. We looked to see if he was offering choreography tips to the dance team, but no dice. Just when we were beginning to think we'd lost him, I received the following text message: I AM DRINKING A BEER IN THE PRESIDENT'S SUITE.

Our hero.

The Captain had stormed the Castle. Awesome. And yet another example of why the DAC may in fact outshine the Palestra, at least in terms of amenities: They managed to fashion a 'president's suite' out of a walled balcony above the bleachers. And they serve free beer in this 'suite'. Eat that Palestra.

Between his infilitration of the president's box, Drexel's big victory, and this...

... the Captain was most certainly having his 'one shining moment'. Too bad it was at the expense of our beloved Blue Hens. Cluck.

FINAL: 77 62 (recap)

(to be continued...)

2007-02-08T23:58:00.000-05:00

ALL THINGS CONSIDERED...
'Cut me Mick...'

... I'd rather be in Philadelphia. And we will be, this Saturday.

The Nuts are going on the road. We've gotten a taste of hoops in the Big Apple, so now we're hitting the road and heading to the burgh that spawned Liberty, Ben Franklin, and World B. Free* to see how they do roundball down there. Yes, at the crack of 10 this Saturday morning, the Captain and I will be piling into the Ducat's jalopy and cruising down the turnpike with the soothing soul sounds of the Delfonics, the O'Jays and LaBelle ringing through our ears.

Our ambitious schedule has us tackling a tripleheader. After a bloody mary breakfast, we'll be heading to the world-famous (ok, Philly-famous) Palestra to see a Big 5 matchup between St. Joe's and LaSalle. At 4, we'll be popping over to the DAC to see the Illadelph-leading Drexel Dragons take on the Delaware Blue Hens, the most dangerous 5 and 20 team in the nation. And then it's back to the Palestra for an Ancient 8 battle between Harvard and Penn to cap the night. Somewhere in there we'll be sure to cram in a cheesesteak, wit whiz.

According to this story, Villanova already wrapped up Philly's coveted 'Big 5' championship with a win over St. Joe's earlier in the week. We on the Nuts Competition Committee have an issue with this assertion given the fact that the Drexel Dragons aren't considered part of this old boys network. Looking at our own Illadelph Division standings at the right of this page, it appears to me as though Drexel is the class of the city, looming over all other comers, including 'Nova. Want proof? How about tonight's game in which they knocked off Hofstra, the leaders of the Empire Division, ending the Pride's 28-game home winning streak. Or how about earlier this season when they bested Villanova. That proof enough for ya? Honestly, what's so small about these Dragons that they aren't considered 'Big'? Perhaps it's time to change the moniker to "The Big 6"? It is this lack of respect that is driving us to visit the DAC Center on Saturday afternoon, where we'll be seated right behind the Dragon bench. Of course, all huffing and puffing aside, we'll be rooting for Delaware. Sorry Drexel, I feel your pain but do you really think we can cheer for a team that has the audacity to beat our beloved Pride? Get real. Go Blue Hens.

Much disrespect.

While all this basketball action on Saturday is sure to be exciting, there's really only one reason we're heading down the turnpike this weekend: Simon Kirke. Who is Simon Kirke you ask? A hot-shot point guard for the St. Joe's Hawks? Legendary coach of the LaSalle Explorers? Trainer extraordinairre for the Penn Quakers? No, no and no.

You wanna know who Simon Kirke is? This is Simon Kirke:

That's right, he's the drummer for classic rock bands Bad Company and Free. He's a Straight Shooter and a Shooting Star I tell ya, and he'll be rocking the kit at halftime of the Penn/Harvard game. Whoo ah! If that's not reason enough to drag your ass down to Philadelphia, I don't know what is.

Let's get Nuts y'all. Philly style.

Road trip!

* For the record, Free actually cut his teeth in Brooklyn. So there.

2007-02-08T23:29:00.000-05:00

FALLEN TREES

Stanford guard Anthony Goods, left, forward Brook Lopez, and guard Mitch Johnson look on as the final seconds tick down in the second half on Thursday, Feb. 8, 2007, in a college basketball game against Washington State in Pullman, Wash. Washington State won the game, 45-58.

This photo looks awfully familiar to me... where have I seen it before? Oh yeah, here. Honestly, the sight of dejected opponent benches in Pullman is becoming quite commonplace.

Loved this little bit of the AP story reporting on the Cougar victory:

Indeed, players were asked if it was too early to dream about the first Pac-10 title in the program's history, especially for a team that was forecast to finish last.

"I think about it every night," Clark said. "It's a very realistic goal for us."

Damn straight. Shock the world Cougs.

2007-02-07T02:41:00.000-05:00

NUTS NOTES: WHERE WE AT?

Well, we're about halfway through this nutty little ride, about to make our mid-season turnpike trip to the land of Dragons and cheesesteaks. As we turn the corner, I think it's an appropriate time to check in on the standings. So far this season, we've let the Captain loose on an unsuspecting Ivy League, we got drunk cheering the Pride and frightening children at Madison Square Garden, and we explored the far reaches of a magical fairytale land called Riverdale. Oh, and considering this blog is supposed to be focused on NYC hoops, we probably spent too much time talking about the Pac-10. But hey, my Cougs are kicking ass, so deal.

All along, we've had a special eye on the Iona Gaels, who up until this past Saturday were on the verge of something magical. Then they had to go and ruin it with a win over Rider. It's been bugging me ever since. See, the thing is, the Gaels could've done something special, they could've been somebody. A loser somebody yes, but still, a somebody. Now, they're just another pack of losers, a 1-win team at the bottom of a shit-ass conference. It's sad.

As far as I'm concerned, the University of North Florida is the only school left with something to prove, and that makes them our new special favorites. The Ospreys are 2-21, their only wins coming over non-Division I teams Concordia College and Skidmore, which I don't even think is a school as much as it is a nickname for that kid in the 4th grade who always crapped his pants. Unfortunately, unlike previous Google image search results for Iona (see here), when I search for "Ospreys", this is the best I can come up with:

Not hot. And terrible at basketball.

Oh well, let's check in with the rest of the Empire, shall we? Up-to-date division standings can be found on the right-hand side of the page. Here's the mid-season rundown:

For the most part, Long Island's own Hofstra Pride have battled it out with the Poughkeepsie kids from Marist College for the top of the Empire Division. The city teams really haven't been anything more than mediocre, although Fordham has shown some flashes and could challenge if they can get hot again after a tough loss to Rhode Island on Saturday. Prior to that, the Rams had won 5 in a row, beating two teams, LaSalle and St. Joe's, from the Illadelph Division. We'll be up in the Bronx next Thursday for a key game vs. UMass at Rose Hill Gym. Stay tuned.

Meanwhile, the Manhattan Jaspers have been inconsistent at best. At times, they've looked like the best in the MAAC conference, as they did when we saw them knock off Marist in Riverdale last week. And yet, despite the fact they are currently in second place and only a game out of first in the MAAC, they sit in the middle of the pack in our own Empire Division with a 12-11 record. Not impressive. As for the Empire's lone Ivy entrant, Columbia, I wanted to write them off after they lost three in a row, but then they went ahead and won two this past weekend to stay in the upper half of the Empire. Too bad there's no Ivy tournament, otherwise I'd say the Lions had a shot. Still, they're clinging to life here in Nuts land.

And then there's St. John's, a maddening team going nowhere in the Big East but hanging around the Empire. They've had some quality wins, besting both Notre Dame and Syracuse back-to-back a few weeks ago, but then they got smashed by Georgetown and Pitt. They're 13-10 and sitting in fifth place right now, just ahead of Army. That Army? Yes, that Army. The Black Knight's 13-11 record is deceiving however as almost all of their wins came out of conference. I think they played the Coast Guard 13 times before Patriot League play even started. It's understandable really, they're probably too worried about being 'surged' into Iraq by that moron in the White House to worry about some stupid basketball game.

Bringing up the tail end of the Empire are the two Brooklyn entrants, St. Francis and the LIU Blackbirds, and the boys from Staten Island, Wagner. Oh, and Iona of course. Funnily enough, of all these teams, Iona may have the best shot of actually going to the NCAA tournament. Yes, you read that right, Iona does. See, all MAAC teams make the conference tourney, meaning the Gaels are guaranteed a shot at the automatic bid. In the Northeast conference however, the bottom three teams miss out on the conference tourney, meaning LIU and St. Francis' seasons are probably already over. That said, I'll still suffer with a few dozen other fans at both a Blackbirds and Terriers game in the second half of our experiment.

And finally, as bad as these teams are, they can at least take comfort in the the fact that there may be an even worst team in the area then all of them, Iona included. The St. Peter's Peacocks from Jersey City have lost 19 of 20 games, including 15 in a row. They currently sit at the bottom of a very poor Outsiders Division here in the RBN league. They suck.

But hey, at least I get this in my Google search:

Mmmmmm, sexy. Seriously nice plumage.

Later this week, in anticipation of our Saturday tripleheader in Philly, I'll give a quick rundown of the Illadelph Division, the Nuts alternative to the famed 'Big 5'. Seriously, how 'Big' can it be if it doesn't even have a Dragon?

2007-02-04T01:43:00.000-05:00

ONLY 21 GAMES UNDER .500 NOW

How does Iona spell relief? R-I-D-E-R, that's how.

Yep, after 22 losses in 22 tries, Iona finally found a team it could beat. Not surprisingly, the Gaels just had to look toward Jersey to get the job done. After handing the 0-22 Gaels their first win, Jersey City's Rider College must not be feeling too good about themselves tonight. Oh, and Savannah St.? You can rest easy, your mark is safe.

It was about time the Gaels finally pulled one out, they'd been so close all season. Head coach Jeff Ruland must've let out a huge sigh of relief when this thing ended. Talking to the press afterward, he had this to say: "Now we can get on with the business of winning some more games this season."

Whoa there Coach, let's not get greedy now. The most important thing is that you've made Ms. Iona happy...

... and that's all we really care about.

2007-02-01T02:45:00.000-05:00

THIS IS WHY COLLEGE HOOPS IS SO MUCH BETTER
The NBA's New Jersey Nets unveiled their new dance team last night...

Give me an A! Another A! Give me an R! Give me a P!

Man, these are not your father's cheerleaders. Oh wait, yes they are -- in fact, he probably dated a couple of them. Seriously, we'll stick with the college game, where the cheer squads wear spankies, not Depends, under their skirts. Yeesh.

2007-01-30T22:51:00.000-05:00

GAME 5: WHO'S YOUR DRADDY?

"As far as I am concerned, Manhattan College is still a big urban myth, the place where Mikey died eating pop rocks after watching an alligator come out of the sewer." -- Ducats, Monday

'Riverdale? Where the fu*k is Riverdale?'

This was the most common reaction by folks who heard that me and my fellow Roundball Nut, codename Ducats, would be visiting Riverdale to take in a Tuesday night college basketball game between Manhattan College and the visiting Red Foxes from Marist at Draddy Gym.

To me, it sounded like a place where Hobbits might gather. Or maybe a place the Lord of the Dance would go to retire, ya know? But believe it or not, Riverdale is in New York City. Barely. Let's just say this: If you were lost in Yonkers and you went south a few blocks, you'd be in Riverdale. It is the absolute northern-most point in New York City. It's also home to the Manhattan College, despite the fact that it's in the Bronx. Go figure.

Amazingly, this odd little enclave called Riverdale is serviced by a subway. If you take the '1' train all the way to the freakin' end, you'll end up at Manhattan College, home of the Jaspers.

Oh, and in case you're wondering what the hell a Jasper is, here's one:

He had a wicked jump shot.

Yes, this is Brother Jasper, the namesake of Manhattan College's athletics programs. He looks fit, doesn't he? Maybe not, but he is credited with inventing baseball's 7th inning stretch. Who knew? No word on whether he had anything to do with 'Cotton-Eyed Joe'. Let's hope not.

At 6 pm, I met Ducats on the subway platform at 42nd St. and we headed north, 200 blocks north in fact, all the way to 242nd St. We were unsure of what was to come at the end of that long trek, and frankly, we were worried. Had anyone ever been up that far? Would the train burst into flames once it passed 200th? Did they take American currency up there?

We weren't sure of any of these things, but we knew we had no choice but to find out. We're on a mission, and Riverdale is part of it. We stood clear of the closing doors and we were on our way.

Game 5: Marist Red Foxes (15-6) vs. Manhattan Jaspers (10-10)
We did not burst into flames. In fact, when we finally did reach our destination, it was snowing. My god, had we traveled that far? We'd reached the North Pole, I was sure of it.

Or maybe we were just in the Bronx, Riverdale to be exact. The campus itself was situated high up on a hill and was very nice. A lot of steps, but nice. Oh, and a lot of Virgin Mary and Friar Tuck-looking statues. But nice. Did I mention nice?

Tonight's tilt offered up a tantalizing match-up between two teams tied for 2nd place in the MAAC, both one game off the pace of Loyola College (Md), a team the Jaspers shocked last week. Marist, the pride of Poughkeepsie, had the better overall record at 15-6, but the league records were an identical 7-3. It was going to be a good one, you could just smell it... or maybe that was the pungent aroma of 'gym' that permeated the Draddy when we walked in. Either way, we were pumped.

The Red Foxes are led by superstar guard Jared Jordan, who is averaging nearly a triple-double a night from the point guard position. Scary. Ducats was intrigued primarily by his name, which we both agreed sounded like a character from Beverly Hills 90210, Brandon Walsh's new best friend or something. Here he is, #25 on the right:

Dreamy, no? Seriously, does anyone know who Jared Jordan is taking to prom this year? Because I'm really hoping he chooses me. Oh Jared Jordan, you can do no wrong. *swoon*

I decided I would hate Jared Jordan for the rest of the evening.

Meanwhile, Manhattan is led by the trio of Arturo Dubois, Devon Austin and freshman guard Antoine Pearson, who suffers from asthma and thus is affectionately dubbed 'sheezy', as in 'fo sheezy i'm wheezy!' Be proud son. He's been ripping the league up so far this year.

In the stands, I was surprised to find a familiar face. If you go to many Yankee games, you probably know all about Freddy 'Sez', a regular fixture at The Stadium since the mid-80s. He can be found at nearly every home game, a sign strapped to his chest, his trusty shamrock pan in hand ready to be banged for luck. Well, now we know what Freddy does in the off-season: He attends Jaspers games.

The first half saw the Jaspers go down early, come back to take a lead, and then quickly relinquish it after a number of wicked cuts to the hoop by Jared Jordan, that guy I hate, and a flurry of '3s' by teammate Will Whittington. By halftime, Freddy's pan didn't seem to be bringing much luck as the Jaspers found themselves down 8.

Enter Coach Bada Bing. Seriously, Manhattan's head coach, Barry Rohrssen, is a dead ringer for Tony Soprano... ok, maybe Tony Soprano after a Trimspa program, but still. Whatever the case, he must've threatened to whack his team at halftime, because the Jaspers came out on fire in the 2nd half, quickly erasing that 8-point deficit.

Bada Bing!

The rest of the way Manhattan seemed to always be down by two or three points, never quite able to tie or take the lead. I can't remember how many times at the start of a posession I thought to myself, 'here, they're finally going to get a lead right here.' Only then, something like this happened:

Doh! Manhattan hadn't had a lead since the 7:49 mark of the first half. But throughout most of the second half they always seemed to be within that one bucket. They were down just a point when the turnover in the video above occured. After that, Whittington sunk a killer '3', putting Manhattan down 4 with under a minute to go. But then, Sheezy Pearson came through with a giant '3' of his own from the corner, cutting the lead back to one. After a Jared Jordan (hate him) miss on the other end, and 19.1 seconds on the clock, this happened:

That's freshman Darryl Crawford hitting the clutch floater there, and then Devon Austin getting the swat on the much hated Jared Jordan at the other end to just about seal it. All great and exciting stuff. Really, we were going absolutely nuts.

But the best part of that video comes toward the end. That heap of people you see on the court is the result of one crazy student who had been whooping it up all game as though he were at Cameron Indoor. When Austin blocked Jordan's shot, this lovable bastard rushed the floor all by himself. Problem was, there were still .8 seconds left on the clock, and so security tackled and dragged him away. He missed the final moment of the game, but he can take solace in the fact that he will be forever immortalized here on Roundball Nuts. He shall be knighted an Honorary Nut, part of the crew for life. Congratulations sir.

And yes, the Jaspers did prevail, holding on in that last .8 to edge the mighty Marist Red Foxes, 75-74 to take sole possession of 2nd place in the MAAC. I guess Freddy's pan worked after all.

Oh, and here is that final .8 for you to enjoy. If you look closely, you'll see that at least one person succesfully rushed the floor. You go girl.

FINAL: 75 74 (recap)

2007-01-29T15:45:00.000-05:00

DAMN LUCKY DUCKS
You know, if I'd seen this story about 'Perky' the duck beforehand, I probably wouldn't have been so boastful in my post ahead of the Cougars/Oregon game last week.

"I think right now her chances are really good, she's made it," said Noni Beck, wildlife rehabilitator at the Goose Creek Wildlife Sanctuary in Tallahassee, Florida.

Perky was hit in the leg, neck and wing by a local hunter last weekend. Ms Beck said the duck was felled, carried back to the hunter by his dog, hung in a brace of dead ducks, taken to his house and placed in a refrigerator.

Two days later the hunter's wife went to the fridge.

"When she opened the door this little duck raised her head ... she immediately called her daughter and said they had to do something," said Ms Beck.

The daughter took the duck to a local vet for treatment.

The Ducks from Eugene seemed as lucky as Perky when they pulled out an OT miracle in Pullman Saturday night. Great game, disappointing ending, rematch at The Pit on Feb. 22.

You're dead to me Ducks.

Ok, I'm going to get back to East Coast basketball now. Stay tuned for the Nuts foray into the wilds of Riverdale later on this week.

2007-01-26T01:38:00.000-05:00

SMACK TALKING QUACK ADDICTS

Anyone up for a little Duck Hunt? (click image to play)

This Saturday, the 18-2 Oregon Ducks travel to Pullman to face college basketball's biggest surprise, the 17-3 Washington State Cougars. A quick commentary from a proud Cougar fan.

As a Washington State University alum, I realize that I'm supposed to be pre-programmed to hate the Huskies above any and everything else. I'm expected to villify anyone wearing purple, to kick dawgs when I see them, and to have a bevy of Billy Joe Hobert jokes at the ready. But I must say, time and time again it is not the Huskies, but rather the Oregon Ducks that raise my hackles more than any other Pac-10 school. These soggy little birds talk a lot of smack considering their limited history of athletic achievement.

And don't start with me Ducks fans, I don't want to hear it. First off, I realize WSU doesn't have much of an athletic record to fall back on either. The difference? We Cougars accept and recognize that fact, and we have a sense of humor about it. Meanwhile, you guys talk as if you have one of the most storied athletic programs in the country. But let's be honest here, if it weren't for your pimp daddy Phil Knight, you'd most likely be one of the saddest athletic programs in the country. We'll give you track and field, but other than that, what have you done to all of sudden be so damn cocky? Let's check out a few quick facts, shall we?

Your football team has been to 20 bowl games in your 113-year history, 11 of which came after Knight took you on as a charity case.

Your all-time bowl record is 7-13. Wow, impressive.

You have 13 national championships, 12 of which are for track & field.

You don't even field a baseball team. It's a 'club' sport in Eugene.

You have one Rose Bowl victory... in 1917. World War I was still raging.

You only have 8 NCAA tourney appearances, same as Iona. (see previous post)

That's pretty lame, Ducks.

I realize it's probably pointless to start nit-picking at your accomplishments like this, and normally I wouldn't engage in such boyish bombast, but it's just that you guys won't shut the fuck up. I'm sorry, but it's true.

A quick story: This past December I had the pleasure of spending Christmas Day with my father's girlfriend's kids (oh joy), all three of which are students at the University of Oregon (more joy). For nearly two hours, I was engaged in a conversation based on the premise that WSU should be kicked out of the Pac-10 in favor of Gonzaga for basketball, and for Boise St. in football. Barely resisting the impulsive urge to reach out and punch the eldest son, and biggest talker, square in the jaw, I asked him why he thought Oregon was so worthy? "Well, we won the first NCAA championship ever," he said. "Yeah, in 1939. What have you done since?" I replied. He stuttered a minute, then quickly jumped to the Ducks tourney run in 2002, glossing over the 63 years of basic basketball ineptitude that fell in between. I couldn't take any more, it was pointless to fight the battle. I needed another drink.

Seriously, I just don't understand where this cocky attitude came from. Are you suffering from an inferiority complex? Has the Nike money gone straight to your heads? Has the Nike money gone straight to your heads? Are you boastful because you get shiny new uniforms every year? I just don't get it. And about those uniforms, if you're so concerned about how you look, maybe you should just roll up the athletic department altogether and concentrate on fashion. Maybe you could get a spot on Project Runway?

Make it work people.

Before Oregon's collapse in Seattle last night, one prominent Duck blogger was, of course, talking a lot of smack at the Huskies. He was brimming with confidence early last week, predicting victory and assailing the Dawgs for lacking class, of all things (um, why didn't Brooks play last night?). He predicted that the title of his post-game report would be "Just Like Football" because Oregon had thrashed the Huskies on the grid this past season.

With that in mind, I'd like to ask Duck Nation if they remember this, from last October?

WSU 34, UO 23

My prediction for tomorrow's WSU/Oregon game? Just like football.

2007-01-23T23:06:00.000-05:00

OH MY IONA
This is really starting to hurt. Seriously, someone please make it stop. Iona's 2007 basketball journey has gone from bad to worse to downright unbearable. Tonight, as the not-so-mighty Gaels entered the final 10 minutes with a ten point lead, it looked, once again, as though they were poised to finally grab their first win of the season. But the Stags from Fairfield suddenly went on a 13-3 run, forced overtime, and prevailed 70-67. Ouch.

Honestly, I'd rather my team get beat by 30 every night then lose the way Iona has been lately. At least then you could just give up. But no, this winless team actually gives its fans hope every night only to send them home with nothing but thoughts of turning the ovens on in their dorms and lighting a match. Kaboom. It's that bad. Last Saturday they lost a heartbreaker 81-80, to Niagara. Prior to that, they lost two games, both in overtime, to Canisius and Fairfield. Painful.

While searching for an Iona-appropriate image, this was, by far, the best thing I found:

The pride of New Rochelle

She has absolutely nothing to do with the school mind you. It's just that her name is Iona. Still, we're going to anoint Ms. Iona here the official mascot of the '07 Iona men's basketball team. At least it'll give us a reason to keep watching.

By the way, if they keep it up, Iona could join Prairie View A&M ('92) and Savannah St. ('05) as the only schools to have a winless season in the last 50 years. We hope that doesn't happen, but if it does you can bet us Nuts will be on hand to witness it.

Elsewhere...

St. John's -- After watching St. John's look downright ugly against UConn a week ago, it seems as though they've finally turned it around. On Sunday, they beat a favored Syracuse team. Tonight, they welcomed a ranked Notre Dame team to the Garden and sent them home crying in their Guinness after a clutch '3' from Larry Wright. Why can't we ever pick one of these games to go to?? Damn.

Maybe the Irish woulda played better if they hadn't left their pot in the car. Just sayin'.

UConn -- Meanwhile, UConn is reeling; some have already written them off. After that drubbing of St. John's at the Garden a little over a week ago, UConn went out and got spanked by Louisville last night. Before that, they lost to Indiana at home. I enjoyed that game not because I have anything against the Huskies per se, but rather because I will always root for a Kelvin Sampson-coached team. You see, he was the man that last took my Washington State Cougars to the NCAAs, way back in '94 when I was a sophomore in Pullman. So for the first time in my life, Go Hoosiers. (at least I don't have to root for Oklahoma anymore)

St. Francis (NY) -- I have to admit, of all the teams in The Empire, I'm partial to the Brooklyn ones. It is, after all, my home borough. Sadly, neither the St. Francis Terriers nor the LIU Blackbirds seem to be going anywhere this season. But last night, in front of 226 'fans' who must've been lost or something, the pride of the Terriers shone through as they knocked off Monmouth for their second straight win. The Blackbirds didn't fare as well, losing to Wagner 88-74. Don't worry Blackbirds, at least you're not Iona.

Marist -- The boys from Poughkeepsie bounced back from a stumble last Saturday at Canisius by thumping the Peacocks from St. Peter's 67-58 tonight. Point guard extraordinaire Jared Jordan was held to his lowest point total of the season but is still averaging close to a triple double (16 ppg, 10.4 rpg, 7.1 apg) as the surprising Red Foxes continue to make the ghost of Fred Sanford proud.

I'm coming, Elizabeth!

2007-01-21T00:43:00.000-05:00

WSU 75, UW 47

Washington sits quietly on the bench in the final moments of the second half on Saturday Jan. 20, 2007, in a college basketball game against Washington State in Pullman, Wash. Washington State won the game, 75-47. (AP Photo/Kody Whiteaker)

Favorite part of this game write-up:
"Unofficially, the Cougars had seven dunks in winning their third consecutive game against UW."

What's up? Who's all up in ur shit, dunkin' on all ur doodz??

It's alright, you get to spend the night in Pullman. Hahahhahahahaha.

UPDATE: We've got highlights, ahhh yeah. Go Cougs!!

2007-01-16T19:06:00.000-05:00

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.

2007-01-12T00:01:00.000-05:00

LEAGUES OF THEIR OWN
The Nuts will be hitting the hardwood, or at least the seats surrounding the hardwood, again this weekend with our first foray into the League that is Ivy. But before that, I thought it would be helpful to explain what appears over there on the right. Because I enjoy playing in the land of make-believe, I've created three distinct divisions. There is no prize for the winners of each of these divisions. There is no make-believe tournament at the end the season. These standings also have no bearing at all on the real-world Top 25 rankings, RPI Index or NCAA tournament. Essentially, these divisions have been created because for no reason whatsoever.

That said, a quick explanation of our divisions. Indulge me.

The Empire
This is our hometown division. Teams here all hail from the great state of New York and will be the focus of our Roundball Project. From Long Island to Staten Island, Brooklyn to Queens, Poughkeepsie to New Rochelle, these are our teams. We will cheer for them when they take on teams from other divisions. We will scoff at the notion that they can be beat. And we will wince when they face off against one another. We will even defend Iona. To the death.

Illadelph
Philladelphia fancies itself a basketball town. Hmm. We in the Empire may think they're silly in Philly, but we'll go ahead and humor them with their own division. In some respects, we like Philladelphia. We enjoy a good cheesesteak (wit wiz) now and again. Liberty is a pretty decent concept. And we're fans of The Roots. But hoops? We're a tad skeptical. In February, the Nuts will be taking a roadtrip to see just how serious they are about their basketball.

Outsiders
Mostly, these guys come from New Jersey, which explains the smell. We may cross the river once or twice during the season to see what all the hype is about. Oh wait, there's no hype, it's Jersey. Bruuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuce! What'ev. Also, for good measure, we've thrown the Connecticut Huskies into this group. We were going to include some of the other Conn. schools, but we didn't want to have to spell Quinnipiac too often.

I will attempt to keep the standings over on the right pretty up to date, but don't yell at me if it's not totally accurate. Last thing I need is some angry Drexel alum cyber-stalking me because I forgot to update his team's record. Ease back Dragonbreath. Oh, and every whenever-the-hell-I-feel-like-it, or thereabouts, I will provide a quick recap of action in each division. And if Iona manages to win a game, there will be a giant breaking news alert and very possibly hell will freeze over as pigs fly through the skies over New Rochelle. Pray for that.

Until next time, keep your balls round and your nuts... oh, nevermind.

Nice Nuts.

UPDATE: You'll also notice a link over there to the WSU Cougars, my alma mater. They are not part of this make-believe competition, but nonetheless deserve a presence here. They also kicked Cal's ass tonight to run their record to 15-2. Go Cougs.

2007-01-10T01:11:00.000-05:00

FIGHT! FIGHT! FIGHT! (from afar)
Oh sure, I decide to focus my energies on East Coast college basketball for the year and my alma mater, Washington State, decides to have it's best season since... well, ever. Long way to go of course, but my beloved Cougars have cracked the Top 25 for the first time since 1983. I think they were still playing with a peach basket back then.

And so, while all this is happening out there...

... I'm trying to plot a day-trip to Staten freakin' Island to watch a 4-11 Wagner team. Lovely.

2007-01-02T00:09:00.000-05:00

GETTING STARTED: LET'S PLAY TWO

The World's Most Famous Arena, not just for shitty Knicks games anymore.

It was a nerve-racking start to the Project. I really had to sweat this one out, and I'm not just talking about the overtime and buzzer beater we eventually saw in our opening doubleheader at Madison Square Garden. No, it was earlier in the day that I did my most sweating. By mid-afternoon, only hours before Game 1 of the Aeropostale Holiday Festival (wtf?) was set to tip, I still had no positive confirmation from any of my core Nuts. Nope, not a single one had agreed to come along and I feared a long night of drinking solo at the Garden, not that I'm above that or anything. But then, like a hoops-crazed angel dropping from the sky, fellow Nut R. sent through a simple, two-word text: "basketball. yes." We were on.

The Garden is a great place to start our tour, primarily because we didn't have to sneak any booze into this one -- we may have more trouble come time for that Columbia/Penn game. Also, at the Garden, they load the plastic handle of every cup of suds with a free pretzel. (Holy God! Did you say free pretzels??! Yes, yes I did.) Seriously, it's like Paradise.

It's what's for dinner. Mmmm.

In addition to the beer & pretzels, two games of middling interest were being served up this night at the Garden: Hofstra vs. St. Joe's and Boston U. vs. St. John's. Unlike my last Garden foray, an unblogged about planning session with fellow Nut H. in early December, these teams actually brought their bands. And cheerleaders, but we'll get to that.

Game 1: Hofstra Pride (6-4) vs. St. Joe's Hawks (6-4)
St. Joe's, a team with a pretty signficant basketball history, one that seems to make the Dance about every other year. They're based in Philly, a city that rivals Gotham in terms of roundball madness... we'll be seeing them in February when us Nuts roadtrip it down the turnpike to that city of brotherly basketball love. Also, we had the bonus of seeing colorful and succesful St. Joe's Coach Phil Martelli, someone I have always thought could've been a recurring character on Barney Miller. Like maybe he was Fish's drinking buddy or something. Seriously, look:

'How 'bout another whiskey Fish?'

But it was the Hofstra Pride bandwagon we Nuts hitched our fortunes to on this night. For one, they're the home team, even if they do play on Long Island, and if there's one rule in this project, it's cheer for the New York team at any cost. Hell, we'll even root for Iona if we have to. *shudder*

The game itself was fantastic. At halftime, the hometown Pride were down 10 and all looked bleak. The St. Joe's cheering section was on their feet, laughing into their cheesesteaks, smelling victory... or maybe it was the stale, decades-old vomit in the upper reaches of the Garden (Rangers fans) they smelled. Nevertheless, they were happy. But in the 2nd half, the Pride put on a run, led by Antoine Agudio and Loren Stokes, and the Hofstra contingent began to make noise. The defense clamped down and held Martelli's squad to just one field goal in the last 9 minutes, eventually allowing Stokes to pop stop at the top of the key and hit a go-ahead 18-footer with 2.2 seconds left to win the thing. Pride wins! Pride wins! And you can suck it Philly.

FINAL: 65 63 (recap)

In between games, the kid two rows in front of us, Zachary, probably 10-years-old, was selected to participate in an on-court skills competition against some loser kid from some other section. And boy can I just tell you that that Zachary, the pride of our section, smoked that punk. He absolutely mopped the floor with him, left him in the dust. We were loving it. He had our full support. I'm sure his parents appreciated the boozy support we provided their son. Funnily though, they moved to a different section for game two. Oh well, more legroom for us.

Zachary, future Nut, basks in the warm glow of victory.

Game 2: St. John's Red Storm (8-3) vs. Boston U. Terriers (3-6)
Representing Queens, the St. John's The Red Storm (the artists formerly known as Red Men) were 8-3 and riding a six-game winning streak coming into this game. Of course, their domination of the N.J. Insitute of Technology (no, seriously) wasn't impressing anyone and they were considered severely unproven. That said, the BU Terriers came in with an ugly 3-6 record, and so the Red Whatevers were the easy favorites.

I honestly don't remember too much from this game, which I must confess was a byproduct of the copious amounts of beer I had guzzled by this point... did I mention they give you a free pretzel with EVERY beer?? How does one pass something like that up? Also contributing to my hazy recollection was the fact that this was perhaps the most boring game ever. Seriously, even the cheerleaders were boring. But it gets worse: They stopped serving beer in the 2nd half.

Good god, the humanity.

Amazingly, the game went into overtime and still managed to bore the shit out of us. True to the boring and ugly precedent already set, these teams even stumbled into overtime. Game tied 42-42, St. John's at the line with 1.3 seconds left -- have a look:

Eventually, somehow, St. John's did manage to pull this one out. True to form, the overtime featured a boring total of 5 boring points combined between the two boring teams. Ug-leee. The woeful Terriers were sent back to Beantown without any biscuits and the Red Storm continued to impress no one. Nonetheless, our Gotham teams managed to finish off the night with a sweep, so yay for that. Here's to hoping St. John's has nothing but vocational schools on the rest of their schedule.

FINAL: 45 44 (recap)

Amazingly, this did not end our evening. From here, we moved on to a Chelsea bar to join with more Nuts to watch a late-night West Coast game featuring Washington St. Cougars(11-1) take on the #1 UCLA Bruins (11-0). The Cougars, by the way, will make frequent appearances on this site even though they play nowhere near New York City. They are, however, my alma mater and the team first in my heart. They just missed pulling off a monumental upset on this night. Damn Bruins.

And with that, Night 1 of the 2007 ROUNDBALL NUTS Project concluded... at least I think it did, I don't really remember. Does anyone have a pretzel?

That should work. Thanks.

2006-12-28T13:24:00.000-05:00

THE PROJECT BEGINS

Over the next several months I will embark on a mission to experience as many college basketall games as possible throughout the five-borough New York City area and beyond. I have targeted 18 division one schools throughout the NYC/NJ area, plus 7 in the basketball mecca of Philadelphia. I, along with my leatherball junkie brethern, will see as many of these schools live as possible and provide boozy, post-game recaps of all the essentials.

There exists a rich history of basketball tradition here in New York City, and we plan to soak in it. We are concentrating on the college game here primarily, a near necessity in order to avoid having to watch the Knicks play. The first ever post-season college tourney, the NIT, took place right here in Gotham in 1938. And now, sixty-nine years later I got bored and started a blog.

College basketball is pure. It's not just about the final score or the size of the paycheck. It's about the atmosphere. We will judge pep bands on the loudness of their trombones. We will clap along to the cheerleader's routines, and boo them when they fail. We will smuggle in small bottles of liquor. In between all that, we will catch some basketball.

These are the rules of the Project, as outlined to my roundball compatriots in a pre-Christmas missive:

1. You will be required to drink.
2. You will be required to take sides. Place a bet if you can't muster up the necessary fake enthusiasm.
3. You will not be required to go to New Rochelle. Or Staten Island. Or Hempstead. Don't worry, I understand.
4. The fourth rule of fight club is there is no fightclub.
5. We're going to need an airhorn. Does anyone have an airhorn?

I understand a cow bell has been offered in substition of the airhorn, which should work just fine.

Let the games begin.