Good Tuesday

IN THE RELIGION of Basketball, last night's barn-burner of a championship was akin to Moses' parting of the Red Sea or Jesus' feeding the multitudes with five loaves and three fish; proof positive to those who would see, that there is a power greater than our own, and with grit, hard fought determination, some class leadership by both coaches, and just enough "zebra wisdom" to let the boys play, that power produced one of the truly great and enjoyable basketball games in recent memory.

The CBS broadcast wasn't about Coach K and the Duke legacy, nor did it focus on the scandal d'jour or some overdone, heart-tugging insert with numerous camera shots at a nail-biting, single parent. This night was, from beginning to end, about the boys and the game being played on the hardcourt in front of us, and it was truly inspiring.

When I was growing up in high school, I worshipped in my own Church of Basketball. The "roundball godhead" of the day consisted of my own version of the Father, Son, and Holy Ghost; John Wooden, Bob Knight and Skip Mohatt, respectively. Most everyday, I would head down to the school blacktop that served as my chapel in my "church clothes" (ratty t-shirt, faded gym shorts and sweat-stained, white Chuck Taylor's) and do "the Lord's work"; working on off-ball movement, blocking out for rebounds, and good defensive positioning.

So many of those "team fundamentals" were evident last night in what was close to being, for the observer, the perfect basketbal contest. Throughout the night, I thought about the lessons I had been taught; at Wooden's camp, from Knight's videos, and during those endless, glorious hours on the hardwood, soaking up Skip's genius, offered with the deep, relentless tones of a loving taskmaster.

I am certain all three were, in one way or another, watching last night's contest. Coach Wooden was most likely disappointed with the lack of discipline in shot selection exhibited by the Butler Boys, but applauded their heart and team effort and most surely would have told them aftewards they played like champions.

Coach Knight was probably cheering on his former protege-turned-accomplished master, while hopping up out of his recliner everytime a Duke screen left a man open underneath and wasn't taken advantage of. I hope he didn't strain anything trying to toss his Lazy-boy across the room.

But mostly I thought of Coack Mohatt, looking down from Heaven. Through the raucous crowd, I could almost hear him barking at Butler forward Gordon Hayward to slide over and help out with Duke center Brian Zoubek, or for guard Shelvin Mack to pop that ball down into the post instead of forcing a drive into the paint. And I could see the short white towel fly back into the thrid row everytime the overzealous play of the Bulldog's center Matt Howard landed him another senseless foul.

But most clearly, I saw my beloved high school coach when the game was over. He was, I am sure, smiling. Not because of an exciting game, which it was, or for the hard fought battle waged by both teams, which they did. But rather for the same reason that both Coach K and Butler coach Brad Stevens were smiling as they shook hands after the game, and for the same reason that true lovers of this game were smiling, regardless of who they had in their pool or which team they supported...

because they had just witnessed, in an era of sports, that at all levels is influenced, and many believe tarnished, by PED's and ignoramous management and posse-laden players and all of the other unrelated distractions, a game played, perhaps as purely as any before it. No players arguing with referees, no coaches tantrums, no fights. A good, clean, well-played and intense battle, played the way it was supposed to be played. To the very last second.

The Duke Blue Devils last night were crowned the 2010 NCAA Division 1 Men's Collegiate Basketball Champions. At the end of the game, they had scored more points than their opponents and so it should have been. But think not for a moment there was only one team of championship caliber on that floor last night. I would have been every bit as proud to have been a Butler alum last night as a Dukie.

Maybe even a little more so.