Looking through the window of my hotel room and down at the street 21 stories below, one would have witnessed a typical evening scene in downtown Philadelphia, where businessmen, street vendors, bums and children form a medley of intersecting dots in a rush to get from place to place amid the din of frantic taxis and angry bus drivers. Meanwhile, on the other side of the window was a different world, one marked by perfect stillness and peace, along with faint rhythms spilling methodically out of a pair of earphones. Resting between those earphones was my head, which at that moment, was anything but peaceful.
My mind was spinning. A fire storm of frenzied images dominated my thoughts, inundating them with gigantic men crashing into each other at Mach speeds among immense throngs of screaming spectators. A furtive glance at the digital clock on the dresser suddenly turned the waves of excitement into clusters of nerves. It was 6:59 p.m. The biggest game of the season was two hours and 56 minutes away. I already could see the bright lights illuminating the arena, the swarms of reporters chattering away on the sidelines, the massive scoreboard overlooking the court below, counting down the seconds until tip-off. How would we hold up, given so much pressure? Would the trials and tribulations of a long, grueling season culminate in victory or defeat? Anxiety was beginning to take its toll on me. And I wasn’t even going to be playing.
Donning a yellow headband and a black afro wig to go along with my vintage black and gold VCU T-shirt, I joined my family in the hotel lobby, where a number of other VCU fans were getting ready to head to the Wachovia Center to see their team take on UCLA in the first round of the NCAA Tournament. Seeing my brother’s dyed hair and my friend Carl’s painted face instantly dispelled my nerves and brought back the sheer excitement of watching the local team my family followed for so many years take the national stage in the greatest tournament in the world. Bring it on, baby!
We entered the arena about 10 minutes before the first game of Thursday night’s double-header and we didn’t exactly need a program to figure out that one of the teams about to take the court was Villanova. Thousands of Wildcat fans roamed the place, all familiar with the building in which their team played three regular-season home games this year. Sticking the No. 14 seed American University in the backyard of No. 3 seed Villanova hardly seemed like a fair move from the Selection Committee, but the scrappy American squad showed no signs of fear — at least, not in the first half.
Realizing that the game’s winner would face the winner of our game, and, as always, delighting in the success of the unheralded underdog, the VCU fans in our section and I sided with the American supporters, relishing in the buildup of a potentially huge upset. The Eagles, who were making the school’s second trip to the Big Dance, were raining jumpers from all directions and somehow thwarting Villanova’s explosive offense during seemingly every possession. But just as my brother and I began to declare that this would go down as the first round’s biggest upset, the Wildcats suddenly stormed back, using a 15-0 run to ignite an absolutely dominating performance during the final 10 minutes of the game. Villanova fans abruptly came out of their hibernation in every corner of the arena, making the whole place shake with their collective cheers that made clear that this was truly a home game for them. Their team stole the upset of the tournament, beating American by 13.
With that game out of the way, it was time for the contest we went all the way to Philadelphia to see. During my way back from the restroom, I ran into a guy wearing a UCLA sweatshirt who noticed my unusual attire and said, “VCU, huh? Good luck out there tonight.” “Thanks man, you too,” I replied. “Not really though,” he said. “We’re gonna kick the f#!*in’ s#!* outta you.” Game on.
The first half of the game gave us little to cheer about, as the enemy Bruins closed with a 13-0 run to lead by 10 at halftime. Our beloved star senior Eric Maynor did not look like his usual self, held to just six points because of UCLA guard Darren Collison’s suffocating pressure defense. But Maynor tends to score the bulk of his points in the second half anyway, so we remained hopeful for a turnaround against the most decorated basketball program in NCAA history. The halftime show also did much to ease our anxiety, as we took solace in the UCLA cheerleaders, who reminded us that basketball was not the only thing this tournament had to offer.
The anticipated comeback was in full swing when Maynor finally knocked down one of his signature deep three-pointers, cutting the deficit to six with about four minutes left in the game. Just seconds later, little Joey Rodriguez made us all forget about his atrocious performance up to that point by bending over to pick up a low pass, raising up and somehow knocking down a three-pointer from the corner. Down one with just 15 seconds to go, fan-favorite Larry Sanders, who has the longest wingspan of any player in the country, blocked Collison’s attempted lay-up, forced a shot clock violation and turned the ball over to the Rams. I hadn’t gone that crazy since witnessing Maynor’s dagger against Duke in Buffalo two years ago.
A timeout was called, and I had to hold onto my brother for support for the next two minutes, which seemed to drag on forever. Once again, I was overcome with excitement and nervousness. On the one hand, it was Maynor time, and like the rest of the black- and gold-clad fans around me, I just knew that Eric was going to knock down the winning shot that would propel us into a second-round matchup with Villanova. On the other, what if he didn’t?
Finally, the moment came. With Collison giving him little room to breathe, Maynor went left and picked up his dribble some 16 feet from the basket. His head fake didn’t fool the wary Collison, who stayed on his feet and forced Eric to attempt a highly contested jump shot that barely grazed the front of the rim. Game over. Tournament over. Career finished. Heartbreak City, baby.
The entire VCU fan contingent, which easily outnumbered the West Coast-dwelling Bruin fans, stood in quiet shock, not wanting to believe that the final shot of Eric Maynor’s brilliant college career had fallen short and sent his team packing for an early return home to Richmond. I don’t remember saying anything until we were well out of the stadium.
The long trip back to Charlottesville unearthed a difficult realization for me: These past eight months together make up the most painful year of sports fandom I have ever experienced. My Dallas Cowboys, the franchise I have worshipped for as long as I can remember, let their once-promising season officially crash and burn at the hands of the Philadelphia Eagles, who ran away with our playoff spot after a humiliating 44-6 beat-down. Both the Wake Forest and Virginia football teams underachieved, and Virginia basketball was simply a disaster. When I finally had something to look forward to in Wake Forest basketball, I watched the team throw away its stellar season with a crushing defeat at the hands of the Cleveland State Vikings in the tournament’s opening round.
But then again, there’s always something to which to look forward. Tiger Woods, my favorite golfer, is finally making his return. Maybe he’ll give me something to cheer about at the Masters next month or any of the other majors in the months to come. Meanwhile, the Cowboys will be playing next season in their brand-new, highly anticipated mega-stadium something that might help spur them on to finally win a playoff game. Virginia’s basketball team will have new leadership next season, and VCU will still have Larry Sanders.
That’s the beauty of sports, folks. No matter how much pain they may give you, they always give you something to anticipate, something to make it through the week for. So as I sit in dead last in all six of my NCAA Tournament bracket pools, I can still hold my head up high and get ready for the next season — because in the sports world, hope is always on the horizon.
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