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Saturday, April 1, 2006
Mason’s magical journey splinters
The Atlanta Journal-Constitution
Mark Bradley
Indianapolis — You knew the moment was coming. You knew, but you didn’t care to admit it. You wanted to see George Mason play for the national championship because a George Mason has never played for a national championship. But in that cold-blooded corner of your mind where pragmatism trumps fantasy, you knew there was a reason no George Mason had made it even this far.
The George Masons of the world have nice players.
The Floridas inhabit a rather different world.
Final score: Florida 73, GMU 58.
The Patriots led 2-0 and never again. Florida would give them hope and then snatch it back. They were close enough at halftime to believe they could do again what they’d done this last fortnight, but a minute into the second half Florida’s lead was 11 points and you were reduced to hoping this didn’t become an abject embarrassment for the plucky underdog.
And it didn’t. This never became Michigan State over Penn (a 34-point landslide in the 1979 Final Four) or even Kansas over Marquette (33 in 2003). This was just a case of a dream dying at the hands of a gifted and merciless opponent. “What they’ve done has been great for college basketball,” said Billy Donovan, the Florida coach who was himself the darling of the 1987 tournament as a Providence guard. “[But] whether it said ‘George Mason’ or ‘Cinderella’ on their jerseys, we had to go out and play.”
George Mason had managed to take down three of the nation’s proudest programs — Michigan State, North Carolina, Connecticut — in this NCAA tournament, and in each of those games the Patriots had overridden a talent gap. That seemed to suggest that all things were possible, but reality ultimately said: “Well, not all things.” Florida was quicker to offensive rebounds and much, much better from the perimeter, and that was your ballgame.
But never let it be said that this was an ordinary ballgame. The RCA Dome was charged in a way that Final Fours never are. The Mason pep band kept blaring its new theme — “Livin’ On A Prayer,” by Bon Jovi — and every neutral in the massive house sang along. It sounded like this:
“Oh-oh, we’re halfway there!” at turned-up-to-11-rock-concert volume. And then, louder still: “LIVIN’ ON A PRAYER!!!”
It felt so ridiculously good, this George Mason saga, that it was bound to feel lousy when it ended. Removed from the game in the final minute, forward Will Thomas covered his head with a white towel. Jai Lewis, the undersized center, wept beneath a purple one. They’d gone as far as they could, further than they ever should have, and now it was over.
“This is history,” said guard Lamar Butler. “We’re living it right now. Whenever people talk about the Final Four, they’ve got to talk about us being here. What we’ve done has changed the face of college basketball.”
Maybe it did. Certainly it changed the face of this tournament. Said Jim Larranaga, Mason’s coach: “Our guys showed you don’t have to have 7-footers on your roster or be the biggest and strongest to have a great basketball team… . I’m especially proud to represent, if we do, all those mid-majors who aspire to get here.”
And there’s your difference. Mid-majors aspire to reach the Final Four. Majors aim to win it. Florida will have that chance Monday night against UCLA, but it won’t be the Gators (or the Bruins) we remember most about this NCAA. Said Tony Skinn, the tough Mason guard: “I think we’ve done something tremendous for college basketball.”
And when the run was done, Lamar Butler wanted one last memento. On Friday he’d tried to take his name card from the mass interview room. Not yet, he was told. “When the tournament is over,” the moderator said.
On Saturday he asked again. Permission granted. Flashing a thin smile of resignation, Lamar Butler took his name card and exited stage right.
Permalink | Comments (6) | Categories: Mark Bradley, Tech / ACC, UGA / SEC
Russian leads way in Russian Roulette
The Atlanta Journal-Constitution
Jeff Schultz
They set themselves up for this. Some teams win games early and leave themselves margin for error. The Thrashers couldn’t do that. They had to start slow, then climb back, then lose seven straight, then rise again, then bump their head.
They’ve left themselves a pinhole.
“It’s fun to play games like this when everything is on the line,” Ilya Kovalchuk said.
Fun? OK. I always thought that saying was meant for playoff games. But if one guy believes it’s fun to navigate the NHL’s version of Russian Roulette — well, it figured to be the Russian. Kovalchuk scored twice in the Thrashers’ 5-2 win over Carolina Saturday at Philips Arena.
They live. To die another day?
“You play, you coach and you can even tell that the players are looking at the out-of-town scoreboard,” coach Bob Hartley said. “You see Montreal winning. It’s tough. You know if you lose, then you lose ground. You win and you stay there. But you just have to keep winning games and hope some teams start to get in trouble. If we keep playing like we did tonight, we have a chance of being there. But we definitely need help.”
They did this to themselves. They endured that ridiculous blur of goalie injuries, found life, then took one step off the balcony. I’m not sure how many teams have made the playoffs despite a seven-game losing streak. But I’m guessing not many.
In the NHL, a team can lose a game three different ways (regulation, overtime, shootout) and still gain points in two of them. The Thrashers whiffed in seven straight.
That will hurt you.
Like a barbell falling from the top shelf will hurt you.
The Thrashers have set a franchise record for wins (36), and it’s not nearly enough. They dumped Carolina, one of the league’s best teams, for the third time this season. They would pose a threat to any opponent in the playoffs — and yet the odds are they’ll never get to an 83rd game.
“It’s weird,” said Marc Savard, who scored the game’s first goal on a penalty shot. “We seem to play our best against the best teams. We’ve done well against the Ottawas and the Carolinas. We have a good hockey team, but we know we have to win every game.
“It’s sort of like poker now. We just have to keep putting all of our chips in the middle. We’re all in.”
When the Thrashers rallied to defeat New Jersey, 6-5, on March 23, they maintained a hold on the final playoff spot in the Eastern Conference. As temporary triumphs go, it was like thinking you had the winning lottery ticket after only the first number was called.
They lost a game at Long Island. They had four days off while three other teams — Montreal, New Jersey and Tampa Bay — kept winning. They lost another game at Tampa Bay. For a franchise that has seen far worst things than two straight losses, this set a new standard on the misery index.
How does a team go from one up to seven down in a week?
And with the backdrop of a playoff guarantee, no less.
A chasm separates eighth and ninth place in the East. The Thrashers were seven points out with 10 games remaining entering the night. That basically meant that if they went 8-2, at least one of three teams ahead of them (New Jersey, Tampa Bay, Montreal) could go no better than 4-5 for the Thrashers to claim the final berth.
(Let’s keep tie scenarios out of this for now. There are too many wins and prayers between today and tie scenarios.)
So now they’re five behind the Lightning and still seven behind the Devils and Canadiens.
Having fun yet?
“That’s why we’re here,” Kovalchuk said.
One game, they implode. The next minute, they show uncommon resolve. They lost center Bobby Holik less than three minutes into the game for a check that look tame to most clear-thinking humans but was deemed by a referee as worthy of a boarding major and a game misconduct. Carolina’s Bret Hedican was seriously injured on the play — so injured that he returned to the ice eight minutes later.
“I can lay down, too,” Holik scoffed.
The Thrashers are not prone yet. But their position would seem to be closer to that than fun.
Permalink | Comments (14) | Categories: Jeff Schultz, Thrashers / NHL
Sarazen’s shot the benchmark
The Atlanta Journal-Constitution
Furman Bisher
When considering (1) memorable, (2) great or (3) significant — take your choice — shots made on the back nine in the Masters over the years, by unanimous decision there is only one starting place — the l5th hole on the Sunday round in 1935. Gene Sarazen stood pondering his second shot, 220 yards to the green with a pond in between, feeling he needed a 3-wood for the distance, but favoring a 4-wood for elevation.
He chose the latter, and the rest, as they say, is history. The Squire holed the shot for a double-eagle, tied Craig Wood for the lead, then won a 36-hole playoff on Monday, for which he was rewarded with an extra $50. It was this shot, it is generally agreed, that established the Masters around the world, a tournament Sarazen had not played the year before. He had committed to an exhibition tour of South America with his friend, Joe Kirkwood, who furnished transportation, flying his own plane.
There have been dozens of eagles at Augusta National since, but no double-eagles. I came close to seeing one a few years ago, when Fred Couples’ second shot on the par-5 eighth hole lazily rolled to within a few inches of the cup. For an eagle, a player receives two crystal goblets — Jack Nicklaus must have won enough to fill a basement. For his double-eagle, Sarazen won a crystal bowl — and a trail of glory that followed him around the world.
“When I played an exhibition in China later on, they introduced me as ‘Chief Double Eagle.’ They thought I was an Indian,” Sarazen said.
The thought of settling on a collection of eye-popping shots on the back nine is mind-boggling. Some I saw first-hand, some I saw on television, and some I didn’t see at all. Live and in person I saw Doug Ford blast out of a bunker into cup for a birdie on the 18th hole in 1957. Eventually, he would win the green jacket by three strokes over Sam Snead, who led after the third round, but who was only playing the front nine as Ford finished.
There were other such shots of significance in determining the champion, some more spectacular than others. In 1988, Sandy Lyle blasted a 7-iron out of a fairway bunker onto the 18th green and sank the putt that sank Mark Calcavecchia by a stroke. Just the year before, Larry Mize had chipped in from 140 feet off the 11th green for a birdie that beat Greg Norman in a playoff.
There were other shots of significance made in a series that determined the champion. In 1959, Art Wall birdied five of the last six holes, passed 12 players, including Arnold Palmer, and closed out the field. (Subsequently, he became the only champion who never defended his title. A knee infection prevented him playing in 1960, but he served The Atlanta Journal as our on-the-course correspondent — for the sum of $250.)
Who could forget Jack Nicklaus’ long-distance putt on the 16th green in 1975, and his rare show of jubilation, thrusting his putter into the air, on his way to winning by a stroke over Tom Weiskopf and Johnny Miller? Then 11 years later he would become the most popular champion of them all, aged 46, son Jack II on the bag, featuring a series beginning with a spectacular eagle on 15, followed by birdie-birdie on 16 and 17 for a back nine of 30. He wasn’t through yet, though. He had to wait out Greg Norman and Tom Kite, both of whom missed tying putts on the 18th green.
Then there was Fred Couples’ tee shot that clung perilously to the grassy bank at No. 12 on his way to winning in 1992.
But not all definitive shots on the back nine were winners. Go back to 1985, when Curtis Strange had it in his bag coming into the perilous 13th hole, though he had opened the tournament with a round of 80. Lay up, or go for it? He went for it and unhappily found the little brook that borders the green. While he pondered his plight, the official assigned to the match walked into view. He could have given Curtis some sound advice, founded on personal experience. His name was Billy Joe Patton.
In 1954, Patton had reached the 13th hole leading Sam Snead and Ben Hogan, and in position to become the first amateur champion of the Masters. He went for it, found water, leading to a double bogey, followed it with a bogey at the 15th and missed the playoff by a stroke. Strange would subsequently bogey 13, 15 and 18 and drop into a tie for second behind Bernhard Langer, who was winning his first.
Tiger Woods shall not be ignored, but we settle here on a championship he won by a whisker, not by a mile, which he did in 1997. When he chipped in from off the 16th green last year and the ball took a curious route before dropping in the hole, it was a shot on which he modestly accepted luck as his partner. It turned out to be quite essential to winning, for he then bogeyed 17 and 18, then had to survive a playoff with Chris DiMarco.
Permalink | Comments (2) | Categories: Furman Bisher, Golf
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