But Daddy would appreciate his family doing the Charleston ... :)
Send your own ElfYourself eCards
Monday, December 15, 2008
Holiday Spirit
Christmas is even harder this year than last. It sure doesn't hurt any less.
But Daddy would appreciate his family doing the Charleston ... :)
But Daddy would appreciate his family doing the Charleston ... :)
Friday, September 26, 2008
One Year Passes
Dear Daddy,
It can't believe it has already been a year since we lost you. How did that even happen? I still don't understand how the world kept turning after you were gone. I remember driving down the street and being angry at all the people going about their lives without a care, when my dear sweet daddy wasn't here anymore.
The anger isn't as intense, but the sadness never goes away. I'm able to smile and laugh and find joy in life but every time I find that joy, I want desperately to tell you about it. I still haven't been able to take you out of my cell phone.
So much has happened in the last year, Daddy. I am really starting to heal and rebuild after several years of unhappiness. I know you worried about me a lot but I'm actually doing really well. I'm finally following my dream and loving nursing school, despite the stress. I love my new city and my friends and I wish you had been here when we moved all my stuff in. I remember when we did that back east, and then ordered our favorite takeout.
And then there is S. I'm sure you would have worried (as usual) that I was rushing headlong into a new passion, without being ready for a new romance when I was still healing from an old one. To be honest, I was worried too for a while. But there are so many things about him that remind me of you. To me, that is the highest compliment I could pay anyone, that he is like you. He knows what it's like to lose a beloved parent to cancer. He was part of Team Dougie this year, and he has become my rock now. I would like to believe that when you look down, you are truly happy that I have met someone who treasures me the way S does. I know it's what you always wanted for all of us - to have the kind of the relationship you had with Mom.
Sometimes when I think about all of the moments you will miss, I get really sad. You did get to walk me down the aisle, but I wish you were here now to watch us all find our way. You would have been the most amazing grandfather. I wish you and Mom were able to retire together and really take advantage of those empty nester years that were just getting started. We miss your antics at parties and your cooking and skills at mixing Cosmopolitans. I miss hearing your voice on the other end of the line - "just checkin' in," as you always said. Certain things remind me of you and I talk about you as much as I can, to keep you alive and to remember how good I really had it when I had you as my Daddy. I still have it good because I'll always have you in my heart. I just wish you were here still for Eskimo kisses and bear hugs.
I love you all the way from the garage door to the living room wall.
I miss you every day,
Tiney
xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo
It can't believe it has already been a year since we lost you. How did that even happen? I still don't understand how the world kept turning after you were gone. I remember driving down the street and being angry at all the people going about their lives without a care, when my dear sweet daddy wasn't here anymore.
The anger isn't as intense, but the sadness never goes away. I'm able to smile and laugh and find joy in life but every time I find that joy, I want desperately to tell you about it. I still haven't been able to take you out of my cell phone.
So much has happened in the last year, Daddy. I am really starting to heal and rebuild after several years of unhappiness. I know you worried about me a lot but I'm actually doing really well. I'm finally following my dream and loving nursing school, despite the stress. I love my new city and my friends and I wish you had been here when we moved all my stuff in. I remember when we did that back east, and then ordered our favorite takeout.
And then there is S. I'm sure you would have worried (as usual) that I was rushing headlong into a new passion, without being ready for a new romance when I was still healing from an old one. To be honest, I was worried too for a while. But there are so many things about him that remind me of you. To me, that is the highest compliment I could pay anyone, that he is like you. He knows what it's like to lose a beloved parent to cancer. He was part of Team Dougie this year, and he has become my rock now. I would like to believe that when you look down, you are truly happy that I have met someone who treasures me the way S does. I know it's what you always wanted for all of us - to have the kind of the relationship you had with Mom.
Sometimes when I think about all of the moments you will miss, I get really sad. You did get to walk me down the aisle, but I wish you were here now to watch us all find our way. You would have been the most amazing grandfather. I wish you and Mom were able to retire together and really take advantage of those empty nester years that were just getting started. We miss your antics at parties and your cooking and skills at mixing Cosmopolitans. I miss hearing your voice on the other end of the line - "just checkin' in," as you always said. Certain things remind me of you and I talk about you as much as I can, to keep you alive and to remember how good I really had it when I had you as my Daddy. I still have it good because I'll always have you in my heart. I just wish you were here still for Eskimo kisses and bear hugs.
I love you all the way from the garage door to the living room wall.
I miss you every day,
Tiney
xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo
Saturday, August 16, 2008
Our Cancer
I had a dream last night that journalist and my favorite blogger Leroy Sievers died. His lifetime partner Laurie had posted yesterday that things were a little rough but he would be back next week. That must still have been on my mind when I went to bed last night.
This morning I woke up to the news that Leroy did indeed pass away. The details are scarce at this point but it sounds as if it happened quickly, which in "cancer world" can be a good thing.
I am very sad. Leroy helped me sort through a lot of my emotions about Dad's cancer. And even though my father only lived six months after diagnosis, while Leroy made it 2 1/2 years after being told he had 6 months to live, I can't really resent him for living, can't I? I think what I truly appreciated was that he gave a voice to all of the unspeakable thoughts and feelings that surround people living with cancer. And he encouraged us to speak out too. His blog was one of the inspirations for changing the focus of my own. I felt it was important to tell our story so that perhaps someone in the middle of Oklahoma somewhere might come across it and feel the slightest bit of comfort that they weren't alone in their own cancer journey.
Leroy did that for millions of people.
We will miss him.
This morning I woke up to the news that Leroy did indeed pass away. The details are scarce at this point but it sounds as if it happened quickly, which in "cancer world" can be a good thing.
I am very sad. Leroy helped me sort through a lot of my emotions about Dad's cancer. And even though my father only lived six months after diagnosis, while Leroy made it 2 1/2 years after being told he had 6 months to live, I can't really resent him for living, can't I? I think what I truly appreciated was that he gave a voice to all of the unspeakable thoughts and feelings that surround people living with cancer. And he encouraged us to speak out too. His blog was one of the inspirations for changing the focus of my own. I felt it was important to tell our story so that perhaps someone in the middle of Oklahoma somewhere might come across it and feel the slightest bit of comfort that they weren't alone in their own cancer journey.
Leroy did that for millions of people.
We will miss him.
Tuesday, July 15, 2008
A New Chapter
So my sabbatical year at home with family has come to an end. This afternoon we packed up my grandparents' RV with all of my stuff and we'll head out first thing tomorrow morning for my new city. Nursing school is just around the corner - orientation starts July 23th and my first clinical class starts the 28th. Fall semester officially begins August 25th.
It is crazy how much my life (and for that matter, my body) has transformed in the past year. I moved across the country, cared for my father and watched him slip away, grieved, began to heal, found an exercise routine and learned to love veggies and hard boiled eggs, filed for divorce, got into nursing school (again), lost almost 50 pounds, and fell in love. Whew, I'm exhausted just remembering it all.
But I needed this year. Things were really beginning to unravel and although the healing continues, my mind, heart, soul and body are all much improved. Even better, I am really excited about this next step...although somewhat nervous about unravelling again. If there's anything I learned this year, it's the importance of 1) taking care of yourself, 2) surrounding yourself with people you love, and 3) following your heart. I knew all that intuitively before, but this roller coaster of a year was a lesson in life and love.
And with the next step comes the semi-retirement of this blog. I will still post from time to time with milestones, anniversaries, remembrances and other tributes to Daddy. But as I move forward, I find it appropriate to hang my hat for a while. The nursing school blog I've been keeping since December will pick up where this left off, and will be chock full of horror stories, amusing anecdotes, and continued insight into what it means to be a young female nurse-to-be trying to navigate the world.
So here we go...
It is crazy how much my life (and for that matter, my body) has transformed in the past year. I moved across the country, cared for my father and watched him slip away, grieved, began to heal, found an exercise routine and learned to love veggies and hard boiled eggs, filed for divorce, got into nursing school (again), lost almost 50 pounds, and fell in love. Whew, I'm exhausted just remembering it all.
But I needed this year. Things were really beginning to unravel and although the healing continues, my mind, heart, soul and body are all much improved. Even better, I am really excited about this next step...although somewhat nervous about unravelling again. If there's anything I learned this year, it's the importance of 1) taking care of yourself, 2) surrounding yourself with people you love, and 3) following your heart. I knew all that intuitively before, but this roller coaster of a year was a lesson in life and love.
And with the next step comes the semi-retirement of this blog. I will still post from time to time with milestones, anniversaries, remembrances and other tributes to Daddy. But as I move forward, I find it appropriate to hang my hat for a while. The nursing school blog I've been keeping since December will pick up where this left off, and will be chock full of horror stories, amusing anecdotes, and continued insight into what it means to be a young female nurse-to-be trying to navigate the world.
So here we go...
Sunday, June 15, 2008
Proud Like a Mama
We have our own little graduate this year. Kabi passed puppy training!!
Here she is in all of her "cap and gown" splendor and adorableness.
Here she is in all of her "cap and gown" splendor and adorableness.
Friday, June 13, 2008
Feels Familiar
When my father was first diagnosed, we did a lot of research as a family. We wanted to not only figure out what this beastly cancer was all about but also to find out how other people dealt with it. Each of us discovered our own resources that helped us cope individually and collectively with the cancer journey.
One of my tools was a blog by Leroy Sievers, which we heard about while watching a Discovery Channel special on cancer hosted by Ted Koppel. Leroy is a former international journalist who was diagnosed with metastatic cancer and told he had months to live ... 2 1/2 years ago. His profound writing and willingness to be vulnerable to millions of people helped me AND my dad at the beginning. When it became clear that unlike Leroy, Daddy would not be defying the odds, he stopped reading the blog. Perhaps the injustice of it all got to him, or perhaps he worried that reading a blog about beating cancer would give him unrealistic expectations about his own prognosis. But I kept reading, and have continued to do so, due to a subscribed thread that I never cancelled.
I am sad to say that Leroy's body seems to have met its match after a long and often painful journey. He underwent procedures I had never heard of before, and had some serious spinal surgery. He battled a nasty infection. He received so much radiation and chemo that neither treatment is an option anymore. And his first post of this week was a haunting reminder - in his words, the cancer has "exploded". New mets in his brain and liver, tumors in his lungs and several spots in his bones (spine, shoulder blade, ribs and a nasty one that fractured his pelvic bone). It doesn't look good.
As his blogs morph from a fighting to a reminiscing mentality, I am sad and scared because I know what's ahead for him. I watched it happen. But I am also thankful that his voice has been there for me (and for my father). I don't resent him for overcoming the odds and living longer than expected. I appreciate that someone out there is willing to be completely honest about this journey and has been able remind me of the power of empathy.
I will continue to read Leroy's posts as long as he writes. At some point it may become too painful for him, physically AND mentally. And I will really miss the blog and the man when the time comes. I wish him and his loved ones well. I hope he realizes what a mark he has made on the cancer community.
Thank you, Leroy. You have spoken for us all.
One of my tools was a blog by Leroy Sievers, which we heard about while watching a Discovery Channel special on cancer hosted by Ted Koppel. Leroy is a former international journalist who was diagnosed with metastatic cancer and told he had months to live ... 2 1/2 years ago. His profound writing and willingness to be vulnerable to millions of people helped me AND my dad at the beginning. When it became clear that unlike Leroy, Daddy would not be defying the odds, he stopped reading the blog. Perhaps the injustice of it all got to him, or perhaps he worried that reading a blog about beating cancer would give him unrealistic expectations about his own prognosis. But I kept reading, and have continued to do so, due to a subscribed thread that I never cancelled.
I am sad to say that Leroy's body seems to have met its match after a long and often painful journey. He underwent procedures I had never heard of before, and had some serious spinal surgery. He battled a nasty infection. He received so much radiation and chemo that neither treatment is an option anymore. And his first post of this week was a haunting reminder - in his words, the cancer has "exploded". New mets in his brain and liver, tumors in his lungs and several spots in his bones (spine, shoulder blade, ribs and a nasty one that fractured his pelvic bone). It doesn't look good.
As his blogs morph from a fighting to a reminiscing mentality, I am sad and scared because I know what's ahead for him. I watched it happen. But I am also thankful that his voice has been there for me (and for my father). I don't resent him for overcoming the odds and living longer than expected. I appreciate that someone out there is willing to be completely honest about this journey and has been able remind me of the power of empathy.
I will continue to read Leroy's posts as long as he writes. At some point it may become too painful for him, physically AND mentally. And I will really miss the blog and the man when the time comes. I wish him and his loved ones well. I hope he realizes what a mark he has made on the cancer community.
Thank you, Leroy. You have spoken for us all.
Thursday, June 12, 2008
Another Date To Remember
Today would have been 31 years of my parents' marriage. Mom didn't want to do anything significant to mark the day - just be home with us and go about her daily business.
I would think this would be one of the harder milestones of the year. Every other tradition or holiday was something Daddy shared with family and friends, something we could commemorate as a community that loved him dearly. But a wedding anniversary was something the two of them shared intimately and something that my father went to great lengths to celebrate every year. It always involved giving mom long-stemmed roses to mark the number of years they were together. It always involved grand romantic gestures. Now that I know how it feels to be swept off my feet and treated with such love and devotion, I can't imagine having to remember a date such as this on my own. It must have been a very long day for Mom.
And Sunday is Father's Day. We'll be visiting Daddy and making "Our Eggs". This week is a doozy.
I would think this would be one of the harder milestones of the year. Every other tradition or holiday was something Daddy shared with family and friends, something we could commemorate as a community that loved him dearly. But a wedding anniversary was something the two of them shared intimately and something that my father went to great lengths to celebrate every year. It always involved giving mom long-stemmed roses to mark the number of years they were together. It always involved grand romantic gestures. Now that I know how it feels to be swept off my feet and treated with such love and devotion, I can't imagine having to remember a date such as this on my own. It must have been a very long day for Mom.
And Sunday is Father's Day. We'll be visiting Daddy and making "Our Eggs". This week is a doozy.
Monday, June 09, 2008
Relay for Life Tribute Video
Thanks to everyone who e-mailed me their pictures from the Relay for Life 2008! Here is a tribute video for Team Dougie...
Sunday, June 01, 2008
Team Dougie
I am slacking big-time on the blog posts lately but I wanted to make sure I put up some pictures from the 2008 Relay for Life. "Team Dougie" was back in full force (40+ registered team members, and then some) and it was a really incredible weekend. My sister led the team in a pre-relay "opening ceremony" for Daddy and then his covenant group said a prayer. Then we watched with pride our family members also facing cancer as they walked the survivors' lap.
Then it was time for the caregivers' lap. That was painful. We walked arm in arm and S joined us since he took care of his mom who also had lung cancer and passed away 7 years ago.
There were good times, and lots of sad times, and a lot of stories shared about Daddy. The luminaria slideshow featured ALL of the pictures I had sent in, so it basically became the "Dougie show". Fine by me - the more love, the better.
Here are some photos from 24 hours of honoring my incredible father...
Team prayer before the opening ceremonies.
The team saluting Dougie.
Our survivors.
My luminaria to Daddy.
The fireman in the middle walked the entire 24 hours!!
S was there with me - what a guy!
Team Dougie makes it through the weekend.
Then it was time for the caregivers' lap. That was painful. We walked arm in arm and S joined us since he took care of his mom who also had lung cancer and passed away 7 years ago.
There were good times, and lots of sad times, and a lot of stories shared about Daddy. The luminaria slideshow featured ALL of the pictures I had sent in, so it basically became the "Dougie show". Fine by me - the more love, the better.
Here are some photos from 24 hours of honoring my incredible father...
Team prayer before the opening ceremonies.
The team saluting Dougie.
Our survivors.
My luminaria to Daddy.
The fireman in the middle walked the entire 24 hours!!
S was there with me - what a guy!
Team Dougie makes it through the weekend.Monday, May 12, 2008
Me Likey the Vino
Last weekend was incredible! Mom, sister and I headed up to Santa Ynez with our Aunt Minnie, Emily and Elizabeth. We had bought a wine tour at a silent auction event last fall and decided to have a little girl's weekend/early Mother's Day celebration.
What a day! We toured the valley in style, in our Mercedes Airstream limo bus, stopped at four wineries and a yummy cafe in Los Olivos for lunch. By the end of the day, we were rolling down the hills (literally: see evidence below).
Happy Girls!
Rolling down the hills at Fess Parker (Winery #3 out of 4).
Not a great idea but highly entertaining for the rest of us!
We got home Saturday afternoon after a 5-hour crawl down the 405, reunited with our puppy and went to see Iron Man. My brother was in town for Mother's Day, and S came along too - it was an awesome movie and there is nothing better than holding hands in a movie theater. It's so innocent and fun. I know, I'm gross.
Sunday we went to Mother's Day Brunch at one of our favorite hotels in town. The theme was "Queen For a Day" and they had trumpeters herald the entrance of each mother. Mom had to take a picture on a throne, wearing a tiara and all. :) It was a tough Mother's Day as the first one without Daddy but I'm glad we could all be together.
So here it is, Monday morning. 6 more weeks until I bid farewell to my job and only two more months until I pack up and head north for school. What a year it's been!
What a day! We toured the valley in style, in our Mercedes Airstream limo bus, stopped at four wineries and a yummy cafe in Los Olivos for lunch. By the end of the day, we were rolling down the hills (literally: see evidence below).
Happy Girls!
Rolling down the hills at Fess Parker (Winery #3 out of 4).Not a great idea but highly entertaining for the rest of us!
We got home Saturday afternoon after a 5-hour crawl down the 405, reunited with our puppy and went to see Iron Man. My brother was in town for Mother's Day, and S came along too - it was an awesome movie and there is nothing better than holding hands in a movie theater. It's so innocent and fun. I know, I'm gross.
Sunday we went to Mother's Day Brunch at one of our favorite hotels in town. The theme was "Queen For a Day" and they had trumpeters herald the entrance of each mother. Mom had to take a picture on a throne, wearing a tiara and all. :) It was a tough Mother's Day as the first one without Daddy but I'm glad we could all be together.
So here it is, Monday morning. 6 more weeks until I bid farewell to my job and only two more months until I pack up and head north for school. What a year it's been!
Sunday, May 04, 2008
A Moratorium
That is what I am placing on behalf of my body, against any other diseases that might be considering crossing the path of my immune system. I was sick again for an entire week and I am none too pleased about it!
This time around it was tonsillitis (see pretty picture below). Which I have no memory of ever having before in my life. Last weekend I started feeling achy and weak and by Monday morning I hurt so bad I just wanted to have someone knock me out. And oh the fevers and chills! But the worst part by far was my throat. Every swallow was an exercise in holding back the tears. And I am not kidding.
I finally dragged my butt to the doctor on Wednesday (actually new boyfriend drove me - what a keeper!) and the verdict was handed down. Antibiotics for me and no work until Monday. I was fine with this as I really wanted to keep sleeping, but between an effed-up gallbladder in December and a horrific case of the flu in January, I was fresh out of sick time. So last week's trauma was compounded by the fact that it was almost-entirely unpaid. Ouch.
So any other germs out there who may be toying with the idea of coming for a visit, KEEP OUT!! I'm done being sick. And dammit, I just can't afford it!
This time around it was tonsillitis (see pretty picture below). Which I have no memory of ever having before in my life. Last weekend I started feeling achy and weak and by Monday morning I hurt so bad I just wanted to have someone knock me out. And oh the fevers and chills! But the worst part by far was my throat. Every swallow was an exercise in holding back the tears. And I am not kidding.
I finally dragged my butt to the doctor on Wednesday (actually new boyfriend drove me - what a keeper!) and the verdict was handed down. Antibiotics for me and no work until Monday. I was fine with this as I really wanted to keep sleeping, but between an effed-up gallbladder in December and a horrific case of the flu in January, I was fresh out of sick time. So last week's trauma was compounded by the fact that it was almost-entirely unpaid. Ouch.
So any other germs out there who may be toying with the idea of coming for a visit, KEEP OUT!! I'm done being sick. And dammit, I just can't afford it!
Saturday, April 12, 2008
Marsherita!
When I worked for the Chaplain at Korle Bu Hospital in Ghana and we were on call to see patients, we'd spend hours in the office watching Ghanaian television. What a trip!
One of the most entertaining parts were the music video interludes, especially this one by Slim Busterr....
Enjoy a little taste of Ghana.
One of the most entertaining parts were the music video interludes, especially this one by Slim Busterr....
Enjoy a little taste of Ghana.
Tuesday, April 08, 2008
Graduation Day
Tonight, at "Step 'n Sculpt with Nancy", I graduated from one step to two! No "Pomp and Circumstance" or anything, but I was relieved that I made it through the class without tripping or perhaps even breaking my leg.
I felt the difference big time! My calories burned went back up (it had plateau-ed over the past few weeks) and my booty is gettin' cuter every day. :)
I felt the difference big time! My calories burned went back up (it had plateau-ed over the past few weeks) and my booty is gettin' cuter every day. :)
Gotta love Healthy Teeny '08!
Monday, April 07, 2008
Take A Dip
When I decided to file for divorce, I knew that although I was nowhere near ready for a serious relationship, it was time to get back "out there." After all, I've never done the grown-up dating thing. I met my husband when I was 21 and never looked back.
So how to dive back into the dating pool when a) you're a rookie and b) the area you live in has a reputation for superficiality and a lack of brain cells? Go online, baby!
I had marginal luck my first couple of months. Met one boy who was nice but totally wrapped up in his life pre-Teeny and unwilling to make room. But last week I went on a date that put all other blind dates to shame!
"S" and I met for coffee - innocent and safe. 2 and 1/2 hours later, we were still gabbing away. Our lives are parallel not only in our mutual interests and love of dogs, but even in some of the trials we have faced. Since meeting, we have spoken on the phone almost daily and texted in between conversations. It's early yet but I have a good feeling about this one.
What's even better is that no matter what happens between us, it's so nice to have that good feeling and see myself moving forward with my life.
So thank you, S! I'm looking forward to Date #2! :)
So how to dive back into the dating pool when a) you're a rookie and b) the area you live in has a reputation for superficiality and a lack of brain cells? Go online, baby!
I had marginal luck my first couple of months. Met one boy who was nice but totally wrapped up in his life pre-Teeny and unwilling to make room. But last week I went on a date that put all other blind dates to shame!
"S" and I met for coffee - innocent and safe. 2 and 1/2 hours later, we were still gabbing away. Our lives are parallel not only in our mutual interests and love of dogs, but even in some of the trials we have faced. Since meeting, we have spoken on the phone almost daily and texted in between conversations. It's early yet but I have a good feeling about this one.
What's even better is that no matter what happens between us, it's so nice to have that good feeling and see myself moving forward with my life.
So thank you, S! I'm looking forward to Date #2! :)
Wednesday, April 02, 2008
A Season of Greatness
I have spent the last few days contemplating how best to capture the pride I feel in my alma mater. For the athletic greatness demonstrated. For the fact that they accomplished such greatness in the midst of a tiny student body of 1,700 and one of the most academically rigorous programs in the United States. For a coach whose story and whose commitment to Davidson is simply inspiring. And for the Board of Trustees' historic decision to dig into their own pockets and foot the bill for hundreds of students to travel to Detroit for the Sweet Sixteen and Elite Eight.
I have always gushed about my four years at Davidson. So I thought it only fitting to capture my exuberance and joy in a video tribute to Davidson College Basketball. I hope you enjoy it...
I have always gushed about my four years at Davidson. So I thought it only fitting to capture my exuberance and joy in a video tribute to Davidson College Basketball. I hope you enjoy it...
"I Can Do All Things..."
Sunday, March 30, 2008
Doing Davidson Proud
WHAT A GAME.
Yes, our boys in red will be headed home after losing by 2 in a heart- and gut-wrenching Elite 8 matchup. Yes, it would have been incredible to go to the Final Four, or maybe even all the way.
But Davidson did so much more than play great basketball. They represented a great school. They exhibited awe-inspiring athletic skill, but they also showed humility and respect. They put on the map a school that has always deserved to be nationally recognized.
Their 2008 Tournament run will go down in history. But most importantly, they showed what it means to come from a family. And that is what makes you great.
Friday, March 28, 2008
Wildcats Forever
This article epitomizes why my four years at Davidson College (1999-2003) were so memorable and so very special... Props to Michael Kruse for capturing what alums around the world have been feeling this March Madness!
What It Means
On the first day of March, in Statesboro, Ga., after the Davidson basketball team beat Georgia Southern to finish the regular season in the Southern Conference at 20-0, I was with Steph Curry with a couple other reporters, and when he was talking to somebody else I happened to look down at his shoes, and what I saw in black Sharpie on the side of one of his Nikes was this: Romans 8:28.
Last fall, I wrote a long story for Charlotte magazine about this highly anticipated '07-'08 Davidson basketball season, and in that story I posited the theory that this kid, all of 19 at the time, and just turned 20 now, could at the end of his four years be the most important player in the history of Davidson basketball. That idea got stronger and stronger in the course of my reporting. Still, though, I wouldn't have voiced it in public like that if people at the school, in the president's office, in the basketball office and around the athletic department, had at all dismissed the notion when I threw it out there.
Jim Murphy, the athletic director, said it wasn't out of the question.
Bob McKillop, the basketball coach, said Steph had a chance to be a "poster boy" for the program.
Now, sitting here in the Davidson Inn, still trying to process what happened this past weekend in Raleigh, and also what it means and could mean in the future, looking at Steph on the front page of not only the Charlotte Observer but the USA Today, seeing Wildcat red on the sports front of the New York Times, scanning stories online from ESPN.com, SI.com, Yahoo! Sports, CBS SportsLine, the Washington Post, the New York Post, the New York Daily News, Newsday, the Chicago Tribune, Slate, and on and on and on, I have to say:
We all might have sold the kid short.
He might, in some ways, right now, be the most important PERSON at Davidson, basketball or otherwise, and it took him TWO years, not four.
What he did this past weekend in Raleigh was this: He scored 40 points against Gonzaga. He scored 30 points against Georgetown. He outscored Georgetown's entire team in the last 14 minutes and change on Sunday. He did things to put little Davidson in the Sweet 16 that were unbelievable even to those of us who have been trained to just about expect the unexpected with him.
But what he did, in a broader sense, and what he IS doing, and will continue to do, goes way beyond basketball, and way beyond this week heading into Friday's game against Wisconsin. Here's the thing, and I say this as a Class of 2000 Davidson grad, and also as someone who now makes a living as a reporter at the St. Petersburg Times: The small college in the cute, wee town in northern Mecklenburg County, it seems to me, always has had this institutional reticence about being too forward or loud in telling or selling its story, even as the college over the last generation or so has gone from regionally fine to nationally excellent. The thought, rooted, I think, in the school's Southern, Presbyterian makeup, is that braggarts are unbecoming.
It's as if we say, We know what we are, we know what we have. And we leave it at that.
But we want people to know.
We do.
We don't mind answering the questions. What's Davidson? Where's Davidson? But we'd really rather not have to.
And this, I think, is where Steph comes in.
Before I go any deeper, though, I should say that he's not the only guy – he's the star of the show, but he's not a one-man band.
McKillop is the perfect man for his job. He is OF this place, in a way that can come only with time, and an emotional investment and attachment, too, that for him looks like this: His older son played for him. His younger son plays for him. His daughter went to Davidson and is engaged to a Davidson man. He's more than just a coach in this community.
He is 57. Next year is his 20th year here. He's the program's all-time winningest coach and the Southern Conference's all-time winningest coach. Five NCAAs, three NITs, all those league titles, all those coach of the year awards, all those international pros he's produced. Within this sustained success, and at a really hard place to win in Division I basketball, he's the constant.
I've often thought of the Davidson basketball story as the chase of the chance. The chance to win in the NCAA tournament. The chance to beat the big boys. The chance to match the precedent set by Lefty Driesell way back in the '60s in a very different time. It's the narrative that never ends.
Within that story, though, is the story of a man, and the McKillop story, just over the last few years, I think, has begun to come into sharper focus: He came here to go somewhere else, and says so, and he ended up staying put and finding a home. He lives across the street from campus. He walks to games. His children went to the school he represents. All of this is highly, highly unusual in his mostly greedy, mercenary, job-hopping profession. And it's somehow reassuring for the rest of us who live in this go-go, more-more, what's-next world.
It's instructional and inspirational without being Chicken Soupy or sappy or overwrought.
He's where he's supposed to be.
It's practically a parable.
That sort of continuity and connection seeps into his roster. Take Thomas Sander. He's a senior this year, a captain, but toward the end of his playing career in high school in Cincinnati the thoughtful kid actually was considering not playing in college because he found the recruiting process smarmy and disheartening. McKillop, he thought, was different. Now the econ major is an anchor of a class that has won 100 games – the most of any class in the history of the program – and his trademark might be as a guy who sets screens that are awe-inspiring to those who really know what they're watching when they're watching basketball. Everybody sees Steph's shots go in. Not even close to everybody sees all the things that go into creating those shots.
There's Max Paulhus Gosselin, the selfless, tireless defender from Quebec, a guy whose effort on the court is so palpable I sometimes can't look away.
There's Andrew Lovedale, a testament to the kind of consistent development so many of McKillop's players seem to experience: He started this year as a reserve. He's ending it as a revelation.
There's Stephen Rossiter, the Staten Island son of a New York City firefighter, and I don't mean to gush here, but he's one of the nicest kids you'll ever meet.
There's Jason Richards, the point guard from the suburbs of Chicago, underrated and unflappable, a history major who wrote his thesis earlier this academic year on the African-American reaction to Jackie Robinson and the breaking of the color barrier in Major League Baseball. The first hug he got Sunday night when the bus got back from Raleigh was from Dr. Sally McMillen, his advisor, and also, I should say in the interest of full disclosure, a mentor to me, too, when I was here in school and ever since. Bill Cobb, Class of '84 and one of the Wildcats' most devoted fans, said Monday: "This is our team. It's the community's team. We all won." And I think this is what he means. I don't know Jason the way I knew the guys on the team when I was in school, not by any stretch, but I FEEL like I do, I feel like I know him, and that feeling somehow is because of things like Dr. McMillen giving him that hug. That's something we share.
During my time as a student, I wrote about the basketball team for the Davidsonian, and I started a newsletter for fans that still exists, The Wildcat Report. After graduating, though, I gradually lost touch, because I had jobs, because I lived for a while up in New York, because then I moved to Florida to work for the St. Pete Times.
Last year, though, I was coming through town in December, for the first time in what seemed like years, and to see Dr. McMillen, actually, and I called up associate head coach Matt Matheny and asked if he could get me a ticket for the UNC Charlotte game. He said sure. Left it at will call. This was very early in Steph's freshman season, and I had heard about this special player, this special kid, but I didn't really have any idea. So the Wildcats won the tip, threw it to Steph, and he shot a three, and it missed and came bouncing back to him and he picked up the ball and shot it again and it went in. This was all in, like, the first seven seconds of the game. I might be misremembering. But that's at least the way it plays in my head.
I was captivated as a graduate of Davidson.
I was captivated as a watcher of basketball.
I was captivated as a professional seeker of story.
And it was immediate. Can't really explain. Just was.
So this year I came to Charlotte for the Duke game, I went to Anaheim for the UCLA game, I was in Davidson for weekends when I could get away, I was in Charleston twice, I was in Statesboro. When I wasn't at games – I do, after all, live in Tampa, and have a job that I love and would like to keep – I listened to John Kilgo and Logan Kosmalski on the Internet radio broadcast. I started clicking refresh way too often on the message board at DavidsonCats.com.
Then came Easter weekend in Raleigh.
"There's a lot of joy going through my body," Jason said after Gonzaga.
After Georgetown, McKillop, standing in a hallway under the RBC Center stands, talked about the first moments with his team after the game in the locker room. He talked about joy too. "We just laughed, we just laughed," he said, "because of the joy we felt for each other and our program."
And then there was Steph.
I look at the photo that ran huge on 5C of the Observer sports section on Monday, with him running down the court, one finger high into the air, surrounded by the noise of nearly 20,000 strong, and I remember that moment, and I STARE at that photo, at Steph, at OUR Steph, and I look at the one on the front of USA Today, the one where he's hugging Thomas, and I look at his face, I STARE at his face, and I can't stop, and I think that's because what I see is absolute, unfettered, childlike joy.
He is the kind of face America loves to love. He was readymade for all of this: the little-guy story, the local-kid-made-good story, the father-son story with his NBA dad Dell. He's accessible, he's approachable, he's attractive. He signs backs of T-shirts, he gets pictures taken with folks' kids, he points up high when he does something good. He praises his teammates for getting him open and finding him shots and he means it.
He was all of this waiting to happen.
Wins over Gonzaga and Georgetown? A spot in the Sweet 16? That wasn't totally predictable.
But the publicity and the attention that's coming from it once this DID happen? That much was.
The other night, after driving from Raleigh to Davidson, I re-read that Charlotte magazine story from last fall.
"So," I wrote toward the end of the piece. "Stephen Curry."
Just listen to this stuff now. It's somehow simultaneously prescient and quaint.
"Around campus, important people like the athletic director and the new president like to talk about how he's such a good kid, and how he's part of the 'fabric,' and that's nice.
"The Davidson coaches use different words when they talk about him.
"McKillop: 'vision,' 'balanced,' 'gifted.' Matt Matheny, the longtime associate head coach, uses two more:
"Fearless."
"Jugular."
Then this: "He also, say the coaches, has some inner assassin. He hunts the big shot, and the big stage, and he has that unteachable something that allows him to miss a shot, two, three … but the next one? It's going in. …"
I think of the Georgetown game. Two-for-eight in the first half. Three more misses to start the second. Then 25 of his 30 points in the last 14 minutes and 24 seconds. He can't even explain it.
"He is the kid who can keep the Lake Norman newcomers coming to Belk Arena, and people in Charlotte, too," I wrote last fall. "He is, ultimately, the face of McKillop's rallying cry going into this huge season: 'Embrace the bullseye,' the coach has said over and over.
"What he is, for Davidson, at Davidson, is the son of arguably the most beloved basketball player in the history of the city of Charlotte. What that means, according to Jim Murphy, the athletic director, is this: 'Everybody that liked Dell now likes Steph. Which is a lot of people.' Which gets back to the premise at the start of this story. Stephen Curry could be the Davidson basketball program's most important player ever."
Now, some six months later, here we are.
What Steph has BECOME is the face of the college as a whole.
He is the biggest single reason guys from the Raleigh News & Observer and the New York Post are writing that Davidson does things the right way and that if they had to do it all over again they would want to come to Davidson. He is the biggest single reason Dick "Hoops" Weiss of the New York Daily News was on campus on Monday and couldn't stop talking about this "hidden gem." He is the biggest single reason applications almost certainly will go up, which means the already low acceptance rate almost certainly will go down, which means that already high academic ranking could climb. He is the biggest single reason that thousands of people – millions? – now know what Davidson is and where Davidson is. He is the biggest single reason all those people are starting to know something of what we've known all along. He is the biggest single reason Davidson, with 1,700 students, with an arena with 5,700 seats, in a town of 10,000 people, will play Friday night in Detroit at Ford Field, capacity 72,000.
And he is the biggest single reason I've been back to Davidson more times in the last six months than I had been probably in the previous six years. He is the biggest single reason I have reconnected with people I never should have lost touch with in the first place. He is the biggest single reason I have reconnected with the place I consider my home. And I am not alone.
THIS is what he's doing.
My favorite thing about him, though, is that he doesn't seem to know any of that.
On Monday, I was in the sports information office, and Steph shuffled in, dressed in a hooded sweatshirt and his sock feet, just up from a nap in the team lounge and ready for a radio interview in Toronto. He looked like a sleepy just-turned-20-year-old kid because that's what he was. He rubbed his eyes and cleared his throat and talked to Toronto.
"Everything I've ever dreamed of happening here at Davidson," he said, "it's coming true."
"We have a game coming up against Wisconsin on Friday," he said, "and we believe we can win."
The interview ended, and he got off the phone, and we sat and we talked.
I asked him what he would say about Davidson to all the people out there who are thinking about the school and the team now who were not at this time last week. He thought about that.
"It's a very small place," Steph said, "a unique place, where, I guess – the way we enjoy things all together, with everyone knowing each other, I think the joy is more real. More deep."
He speaks for so many of us.
Michael Kruse, Davidson class of 2000, is a reporter for the St. Petersburg Times. He has also written for ESPN: The Magazine and The Sporting News.
What It Means
On the first day of March, in Statesboro, Ga., after the Davidson basketball team beat Georgia Southern to finish the regular season in the Southern Conference at 20-0, I was with Steph Curry with a couple other reporters, and when he was talking to somebody else I happened to look down at his shoes, and what I saw in black Sharpie on the side of one of his Nikes was this: Romans 8:28.
"And we know that God causes all things to work together for good to those who love God, to those who are called according to His purpose."Last week, in the NCAA tournament in Raleigh, a photographer captured something similar, in the same neat script, on the side of his shoe.
"I can do all things …"So it was that on Good Friday and Easter Sunday, Steph scored against Gonzaga and Georgetown a total of 70 points, 55 of those coming in improbable second-half comebacks on the way to the Sweet 16 – and I'm trying here not to be too, TOO heavy-handed – in which the Wildcats, it could be said, rose from the dead.
Philippians 4:13.
Last fall, I wrote a long story for Charlotte magazine about this highly anticipated '07-'08 Davidson basketball season, and in that story I posited the theory that this kid, all of 19 at the time, and just turned 20 now, could at the end of his four years be the most important player in the history of Davidson basketball. That idea got stronger and stronger in the course of my reporting. Still, though, I wouldn't have voiced it in public like that if people at the school, in the president's office, in the basketball office and around the athletic department, had at all dismissed the notion when I threw it out there.
Jim Murphy, the athletic director, said it wasn't out of the question.
Bob McKillop, the basketball coach, said Steph had a chance to be a "poster boy" for the program.
Now, sitting here in the Davidson Inn, still trying to process what happened this past weekend in Raleigh, and also what it means and could mean in the future, looking at Steph on the front page of not only the Charlotte Observer but the USA Today, seeing Wildcat red on the sports front of the New York Times, scanning stories online from ESPN.com, SI.com, Yahoo! Sports, CBS SportsLine, the Washington Post, the New York Post, the New York Daily News, Newsday, the Chicago Tribune, Slate, and on and on and on, I have to say:
We all might have sold the kid short.
He might, in some ways, right now, be the most important PERSON at Davidson, basketball or otherwise, and it took him TWO years, not four.
What he did this past weekend in Raleigh was this: He scored 40 points against Gonzaga. He scored 30 points against Georgetown. He outscored Georgetown's entire team in the last 14 minutes and change on Sunday. He did things to put little Davidson in the Sweet 16 that were unbelievable even to those of us who have been trained to just about expect the unexpected with him.
But what he did, in a broader sense, and what he IS doing, and will continue to do, goes way beyond basketball, and way beyond this week heading into Friday's game against Wisconsin. Here's the thing, and I say this as a Class of 2000 Davidson grad, and also as someone who now makes a living as a reporter at the St. Petersburg Times: The small college in the cute, wee town in northern Mecklenburg County, it seems to me, always has had this institutional reticence about being too forward or loud in telling or selling its story, even as the college over the last generation or so has gone from regionally fine to nationally excellent. The thought, rooted, I think, in the school's Southern, Presbyterian makeup, is that braggarts are unbecoming.
It's as if we say, We know what we are, we know what we have. And we leave it at that.
But we want people to know.
We do.
We don't mind answering the questions. What's Davidson? Where's Davidson? But we'd really rather not have to.
And this, I think, is where Steph comes in.
Before I go any deeper, though, I should say that he's not the only guy – he's the star of the show, but he's not a one-man band.
McKillop is the perfect man for his job. He is OF this place, in a way that can come only with time, and an emotional investment and attachment, too, that for him looks like this: His older son played for him. His younger son plays for him. His daughter went to Davidson and is engaged to a Davidson man. He's more than just a coach in this community.
He is 57. Next year is his 20th year here. He's the program's all-time winningest coach and the Southern Conference's all-time winningest coach. Five NCAAs, three NITs, all those league titles, all those coach of the year awards, all those international pros he's produced. Within this sustained success, and at a really hard place to win in Division I basketball, he's the constant.
I've often thought of the Davidson basketball story as the chase of the chance. The chance to win in the NCAA tournament. The chance to beat the big boys. The chance to match the precedent set by Lefty Driesell way back in the '60s in a very different time. It's the narrative that never ends.
Within that story, though, is the story of a man, and the McKillop story, just over the last few years, I think, has begun to come into sharper focus: He came here to go somewhere else, and says so, and he ended up staying put and finding a home. He lives across the street from campus. He walks to games. His children went to the school he represents. All of this is highly, highly unusual in his mostly greedy, mercenary, job-hopping profession. And it's somehow reassuring for the rest of us who live in this go-go, more-more, what's-next world.
It's instructional and inspirational without being Chicken Soupy or sappy or overwrought.
He's where he's supposed to be.
It's practically a parable.
That sort of continuity and connection seeps into his roster. Take Thomas Sander. He's a senior this year, a captain, but toward the end of his playing career in high school in Cincinnati the thoughtful kid actually was considering not playing in college because he found the recruiting process smarmy and disheartening. McKillop, he thought, was different. Now the econ major is an anchor of a class that has won 100 games – the most of any class in the history of the program – and his trademark might be as a guy who sets screens that are awe-inspiring to those who really know what they're watching when they're watching basketball. Everybody sees Steph's shots go in. Not even close to everybody sees all the things that go into creating those shots.
There's Max Paulhus Gosselin, the selfless, tireless defender from Quebec, a guy whose effort on the court is so palpable I sometimes can't look away.
There's Andrew Lovedale, a testament to the kind of consistent development so many of McKillop's players seem to experience: He started this year as a reserve. He's ending it as a revelation.
There's Stephen Rossiter, the Staten Island son of a New York City firefighter, and I don't mean to gush here, but he's one of the nicest kids you'll ever meet.
There's Jason Richards, the point guard from the suburbs of Chicago, underrated and unflappable, a history major who wrote his thesis earlier this academic year on the African-American reaction to Jackie Robinson and the breaking of the color barrier in Major League Baseball. The first hug he got Sunday night when the bus got back from Raleigh was from Dr. Sally McMillen, his advisor, and also, I should say in the interest of full disclosure, a mentor to me, too, when I was here in school and ever since. Bill Cobb, Class of '84 and one of the Wildcats' most devoted fans, said Monday: "This is our team. It's the community's team. We all won." And I think this is what he means. I don't know Jason the way I knew the guys on the team when I was in school, not by any stretch, but I FEEL like I do, I feel like I know him, and that feeling somehow is because of things like Dr. McMillen giving him that hug. That's something we share.
During my time as a student, I wrote about the basketball team for the Davidsonian, and I started a newsletter for fans that still exists, The Wildcat Report. After graduating, though, I gradually lost touch, because I had jobs, because I lived for a while up in New York, because then I moved to Florida to work for the St. Pete Times.
Last year, though, I was coming through town in December, for the first time in what seemed like years, and to see Dr. McMillen, actually, and I called up associate head coach Matt Matheny and asked if he could get me a ticket for the UNC Charlotte game. He said sure. Left it at will call. This was very early in Steph's freshman season, and I had heard about this special player, this special kid, but I didn't really have any idea. So the Wildcats won the tip, threw it to Steph, and he shot a three, and it missed and came bouncing back to him and he picked up the ball and shot it again and it went in. This was all in, like, the first seven seconds of the game. I might be misremembering. But that's at least the way it plays in my head.
I was captivated as a graduate of Davidson.
I was captivated as a watcher of basketball.
I was captivated as a professional seeker of story.
And it was immediate. Can't really explain. Just was.
So this year I came to Charlotte for the Duke game, I went to Anaheim for the UCLA game, I was in Davidson for weekends when I could get away, I was in Charleston twice, I was in Statesboro. When I wasn't at games – I do, after all, live in Tampa, and have a job that I love and would like to keep – I listened to John Kilgo and Logan Kosmalski on the Internet radio broadcast. I started clicking refresh way too often on the message board at DavidsonCats.com.
Then came Easter weekend in Raleigh.
"There's a lot of joy going through my body," Jason said after Gonzaga.
After Georgetown, McKillop, standing in a hallway under the RBC Center stands, talked about the first moments with his team after the game in the locker room. He talked about joy too. "We just laughed, we just laughed," he said, "because of the joy we felt for each other and our program."
And then there was Steph.
I look at the photo that ran huge on 5C of the Observer sports section on Monday, with him running down the court, one finger high into the air, surrounded by the noise of nearly 20,000 strong, and I remember that moment, and I STARE at that photo, at Steph, at OUR Steph, and I look at the one on the front of USA Today, the one where he's hugging Thomas, and I look at his face, I STARE at his face, and I can't stop, and I think that's because what I see is absolute, unfettered, childlike joy.
He is the kind of face America loves to love. He was readymade for all of this: the little-guy story, the local-kid-made-good story, the father-son story with his NBA dad Dell. He's accessible, he's approachable, he's attractive. He signs backs of T-shirts, he gets pictures taken with folks' kids, he points up high when he does something good. He praises his teammates for getting him open and finding him shots and he means it.
He was all of this waiting to happen.
Wins over Gonzaga and Georgetown? A spot in the Sweet 16? That wasn't totally predictable.
But the publicity and the attention that's coming from it once this DID happen? That much was.
The other night, after driving from Raleigh to Davidson, I re-read that Charlotte magazine story from last fall.
"So," I wrote toward the end of the piece. "Stephen Curry."
Just listen to this stuff now. It's somehow simultaneously prescient and quaint.
"Around campus, important people like the athletic director and the new president like to talk about how he's such a good kid, and how he's part of the 'fabric,' and that's nice.
"The Davidson coaches use different words when they talk about him.
"McKillop: 'vision,' 'balanced,' 'gifted.' Matt Matheny, the longtime associate head coach, uses two more:
"Fearless."
"Jugular."
Then this: "He also, say the coaches, has some inner assassin. He hunts the big shot, and the big stage, and he has that unteachable something that allows him to miss a shot, two, three … but the next one? It's going in. …"
I think of the Georgetown game. Two-for-eight in the first half. Three more misses to start the second. Then 25 of his 30 points in the last 14 minutes and 24 seconds. He can't even explain it.
"He is the kid who can keep the Lake Norman newcomers coming to Belk Arena, and people in Charlotte, too," I wrote last fall. "He is, ultimately, the face of McKillop's rallying cry going into this huge season: 'Embrace the bullseye,' the coach has said over and over.
"What he is, for Davidson, at Davidson, is the son of arguably the most beloved basketball player in the history of the city of Charlotte. What that means, according to Jim Murphy, the athletic director, is this: 'Everybody that liked Dell now likes Steph. Which is a lot of people.' Which gets back to the premise at the start of this story. Stephen Curry could be the Davidson basketball program's most important player ever."
Now, some six months later, here we are.
What Steph has BECOME is the face of the college as a whole.
He is the biggest single reason guys from the Raleigh News & Observer and the New York Post are writing that Davidson does things the right way and that if they had to do it all over again they would want to come to Davidson. He is the biggest single reason Dick "Hoops" Weiss of the New York Daily News was on campus on Monday and couldn't stop talking about this "hidden gem." He is the biggest single reason applications almost certainly will go up, which means the already low acceptance rate almost certainly will go down, which means that already high academic ranking could climb. He is the biggest single reason that thousands of people – millions? – now know what Davidson is and where Davidson is. He is the biggest single reason all those people are starting to know something of what we've known all along. He is the biggest single reason Davidson, with 1,700 students, with an arena with 5,700 seats, in a town of 10,000 people, will play Friday night in Detroit at Ford Field, capacity 72,000.
And he is the biggest single reason I've been back to Davidson more times in the last six months than I had been probably in the previous six years. He is the biggest single reason I have reconnected with people I never should have lost touch with in the first place. He is the biggest single reason I have reconnected with the place I consider my home. And I am not alone.
THIS is what he's doing.
My favorite thing about him, though, is that he doesn't seem to know any of that.
On Monday, I was in the sports information office, and Steph shuffled in, dressed in a hooded sweatshirt and his sock feet, just up from a nap in the team lounge and ready for a radio interview in Toronto. He looked like a sleepy just-turned-20-year-old kid because that's what he was. He rubbed his eyes and cleared his throat and talked to Toronto.
"Everything I've ever dreamed of happening here at Davidson," he said, "it's coming true."
"We have a game coming up against Wisconsin on Friday," he said, "and we believe we can win."
The interview ended, and he got off the phone, and we sat and we talked.
I asked him what he would say about Davidson to all the people out there who are thinking about the school and the team now who were not at this time last week. He thought about that.
"It's a very small place," Steph said, "a unique place, where, I guess – the way we enjoy things all together, with everyone knowing each other, I think the joy is more real. More deep."
He speaks for so many of us.
Michael Kruse, Davidson class of 2000, is a reporter for the St. Petersburg Times. He has also written for ESPN: The Magazine and The Sporting News.
Of Dead DVRs and Sweet 16 Victories!
I couldn't watch Davidson live due to a work commitment. The minute it was over, I literally hopped over the furniture in my house and ran at the TV. To my dismay, the stupid DVR HAD NOT TAPED THE GAME!!! I checked it twice and the little light was on but it didn't save the recording.
Grrrrr....
However, if I couldn't watch my boys destroy Wisconsin's supposed "boa constrictor" defense...what's that, Mike? I couldn't hear you - Wisconsin has held tournament foes to how many points the first two rounds?...then at least I could take comfort in the fact that the Cats won, and won handily.
Grrrrr....
However, if I couldn't watch my boys destroy Wisconsin's supposed "boa constrictor" defense...what's that, Mike? I couldn't hear you - Wisconsin has held tournament foes to how many points the first two rounds?...then at least I could take comfort in the fact that the Cats won, and won handily.
ELITE 8-BOUND, BABY!
HEAR US ROAR!
HEAR US ROAR!
Monday, March 24, 2008
And 100% Reason To Remember The Name
AWESOME highlights videos (courtesy of The Davidson Show) from Rounds 1 and 2 of the NCAA Tournament. And of course they had to include the team celebrating victory with a rousing version of "Sweet Caroline" (which is now my ringtone).
Cats are off to Detroit and I wish I was going too!
Cats are off to Detroit and I wish I was going too!
Goodbye Gonzaga!
Hoyas, Go Home!
SO GOOD, SO GOOD, SO GOOD!
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