Highlighting four years of memories in last hurrah
After more than three years and 125 articles and columns, today marks the last time you will be subjected to the mug shot located just above these words.
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After more than three years and 125 articles and columns, today marks the last time you will be subjected to the mug shot located just above these words.
This past April weekend brought notonly rainy showers and last minute tax filings but also some unfamiliar and unpredictable sports developments. First and foremost among them was Phil Mickelson's thrilling victory at the Masters on Sunday. Known as the "greatest golfer to never win a major," Mickelson shrugged off what has become an expected Sunday collapse to finish with four birdies on the last five holes and captured the most famous green jacket in America in captivating fashion.
After the University of Connecticut men's basketball team won its second NCAA championship in six years, Jim Calhoun's Huskies joined the likes of Duke and Kentucky as one of the nation's elite programs. Similarly, the UConn women's team played in its third consecutive NCAA final and registered its fifth straight 30-win season.
For many, flipping the wall calendar from March to April is a joyous occasion, signifying the end of winter and the onset of spring, the packing of sweaters in favor of shorts and a shift from cloudy afternoons to warm sunshine on the Lawn. However, for me, the end of March marks a melancholy reminder that the college basketball season and NCAA Tournament are coming to an end.
Has anybody else's NIT bracket just gone to pieces? Who could have seen the Austin Peay win over Belmont coming? (Austin Peay, by the way, has the best chant in all of college hoops: "Let's Go Peay!")
For my fellow fourth years, tonight marks the beginning of our final intramural season. With Sign-Up Night II commencing this evening at 7 p.m. in the AFC lobby, the second spring season offers the last opportunity for many of us to win that ever elusive championship team T-shirt.
On a night typically reserved for the seniors to shine, it was a cast of Cavalier underclassmen that stole the spotlight. Just as a film needs the work of an entire cast to win Best Picture, Virginia turned in its best performance of the year in what was truly a total team effort.
With the Cavaliers fresh off their second final-minute victory in three games (and first ACC road win of the season), we have entered the eye of the "Gillen Must Go" storm. After sweeping through Charlottesville a few weeks ago, this squall of dissatisfaction has been temporarily silenced -- or suppressed, at least.
Despite a weekend that included the Daytona 500, the NBA All-Star game and a plethora of exciting college basketball match-ups, the talk of the sports world was the blockbuster trade between Major League Baseball's Texas Rangers and New York Yankees.
On the surface, Pete Gillen and I do not have much in common. I am not from Brooklyn, do not have red hair and have not been a member of a gold medal-winning team (Gillen was an assistant coach on Dream Team II). I certainly do not have a 10-year contract. I do, however, have some Irish heritage in me.
The annual pilgrimage to Punxsutawney, Pa. brings either delight or despair depending on the appear-ance of Phil's infamous shadow. Unfortunately, the groundhog's shadow was present yesterday, sadly predicting six more weeks of winter.
As I walked through the snowy tundra that Grounds became yesterday, donning a scarf for the first time in my adult life, I could not help but be reminded of my coldest, most miserable experience with the finicky Charlottesville weather
Last Thursday, The Cavalier Daily featured 14-year-old prodigy Gregory Smith and his life as a Doogie Howser-like phenom, who is currently enrolled here at the University as a graduate student in mathematics. While Smith is learning the theories of Pythagoras and Plato, it was another 14-year-old who caught my eye.
With half of January behind us, the 2004 edition of New Year's Resolutions for most people are starting to become less resolute. While the gyms are still crowded and some guy named Atkins remains the most popular man in town, the number of daily sit-ups are dwindling and that coveted piece of chocolate is now a "just this one time" treat.
So much for the smurf turf. I was happy to see the 'Hoos nab a return trip to the Continental Tire Bowl, but do you think the committee would have extended the offer if our Pep Band was still around? Talk about an awkward invitation: Virginia, please come to Charlotte for our bowl game, but remember to leave the Pep Band behind since it is banned from ever performing again at the Tire Bowl.
After Saturday's win against the Yellow Jackets, Virginia football fans were thinking a trip to the Tangerine Bowl in Orlando, Fla. might become a reality. However, as reported here in the Cavalier Daily yesterday, any such announcement will not come until after the Virginia Tech game. Nevertheless, an invitation to the Tangerine Bowl is more unlikely than most Cavalier fans would like to believe for several reasons.
In a weekend full of football upsets, Duke's win over Georgia Tech and North Carolina's victory over Wake Forest may have gone relatively unnoticed, but they are more important than you think.
Never before have so many teams been clamoring, "We're Number Two! We're Number Two!" But thanks to Miami's loss to the castrated turkeys just south of here, that is now the case. With the Oklahoma Sooners firmly embedded as the nation's top team, there are no less than six other schools all staking their claim as the second best college football squad in the country.
There are two types of athletes that always seem to be highly concentrated around college campuses. The first are those ultimate Frisbee enthusiasts that constantly fill the Mad Bowl, Nameless Field and the open quads near Old Dorms. Where else besides college campuses (or on Grounds as we like to say) do you find so many people playing any sort of game with a Frisbee?
As any sports fan or participant would attest, the only thing worse than losing is losing to your most hated enemy, your archrival. Just ask any Red Sox fan.