PB&Js and Rolling Rock

I awoke in a cold sweat last Monday night, not because I forgot to turn my heat down, or had just broken a fever, but because I realized that my current budget may not be capable of sustaining the barrage of expenses that March Davidson Basketball requires.  My credit line needs to be able to pack enough punch to get me wherever I need to go, at an instant, should Davidson’s dance extend through multiple rounds of play. 

Fearing the worst, I began packing lunches a week ago, forgoing my midday Baja Fresh burrito for a risky salmonella-tainted PB&J and a fruit-on-the-bottom yogurt (you can buy about 10 of these for $3 at the local Teet).  Becoming increasingly desperate last weekend, I walked past my staple Sam Adams and Magic Hat in the beer aisle, and hastily grabbed a six-pack of vomit-flavored Rolling Rock, knowing that those $3 saved could be the difference between a fully-loaded sausage and a stale pretzel during halftime of Davidson’s Sweet Sixteen game. 

I know that Davidson, and all dominant teams for that matter, maintains its success by adopting a game-by-game approach to the season, but with the Wildcats achieving win #20 last night against UNC-Greensboro, I’d be foolish not to start prepping for the road that lies ahead.

After spending recklessly on a couple of draft brews after watching the Wildcats’ ugly romp in the Coliseum last night, I returned home determined to renew my focus, and forced myself to suffer through the recap of last season’s  final loss to Kansas. 

With the pain from that bitter defeat recalled, and my March fervor for Davidson reawakened, I e-mailed my long-lost partner Base Rich, asking:

man. 

can we do it again?

seriously.

Expecting little in return to appease my now rabid obsession with avenging last year’s disappointment in Detroit, I arrived at work with a six-paragraph reply in my inbox.  I’ll save the nitty gritty details for Base Rich’s next post, but his conclusion was apt:

We can definitely do it again.  We won’t if we shoot like we did last night.

Last night.  The ugly: 38% from the field, 6-27 from three, 15-27 from the line, 13 turnovers.  Can’t get much worse.  Still won by 21 points. 

Last season, the Socon regular season yielded a total of eight 20+ point wins for Davidson.  This season, six of our last seven Socon games have resulted in 20+ point victories.  Still seven games to go.  I like where this is headed.

4th Watts

Recession Special

Salve, on the Cheap

Cheap bars are apt to engage in a familiar advertising ploy, namely, the “recession special,” for which they offer especially tasteless beer for even less money than usual (but still more than your nearby 7/11).  During times of actual economic crisis, this little gimmick becomes more serious, as anxious citizens become more needy of alcohol and social bonding but less able to pay for it.  Today, as the world struggles through these hard times, Davidson Basketball has become my personal salve — a recession (or depression) special that brings more lasting joy and less pain to my wallet than a trip downstairs for a 6-pack of something I can’t afford.

While I actually do pay a somewhat high fee for my twice-weekly dose of Wildcat euphoria, first in cash since I’m a subscriber to multiple online video feeds, and also in sleep-debt as thoughts of March delight and nightmares of Socon tragedy keep me awake late at night, the payoff is priceless.  Tonight’s 75-foot Curry bomb at the halftime buzzer?  It’s good for what ails you.  Saturday’s romp over Wofford?  Made me feel happy inside.  Last week’s 40 point destruction of the poor Paladins?  Gave me the giggles.

When I’m in a rut, I know where to turn.  Feeling angry and frustrated at work?  Remedy: Frank Ben-Eze super-swat and monster dunk.  Hopeless and uncertain about the future?  Impossibly long Curry three will set the world right again.  Lonely and missing close friends?  Highlights of a special night at MSG with my old Davidson roommates reminds me to be thankful.

Indeed, this once youthful team has grown up, showing a maturity and confidence that last season’s team was only just beginning to understand at this time a year ago.  To be sure, 10 important Socon games remain, as well as what looks to be an enormous matchup with Butler in late February.  But shades of March excitement have begun to creep back into my daily consciousness, rekindling a passionate and giddy sense of anticipation for what lies in the future for this year’s Davidson squad.

For now, I’ll continue to soak in each game, taking nothing for granted and remembering that the Davidson teams of yore (2 years ago) rarely pummeled Socon foes by 20+ points on a nightly basis.  It’s hard to be an unhappy person for long when you’re a die-hard Davidson fan, continuously amazed at what this small school has accomplished, and cognizant that come March, its basketball team can do all things.

4th Watts

Throw Some D’s

Savor, Don't Throw

The reaction of the College of Charleston fans to last night’s loss to Davidson was priceless…well, maybe not priceless, but worth little more than the $2 or $3 that they charge for a hot dog down at that new arena in Charleston.  The C of C mob launched hot dogs at the court just before the game ended, thereby suspending play briefly, whilst ruining a perfectly good frank.  So much for southern hospitality.

Meanwhile BR and I were in our respective bars – BR in Nashville, and me here in Arlington, VA – trying to stomach a frustratingly close game, all the while texting one another furiously from possession to possession.  As usual, BR got peeved at me when I nostalgically hearkened back to the steady hand of Jason Richards.  “I don’t think about that,” he texted with obvious disdain.  I know I can be a bit unstable during games, often riding an emotional roller coaster with each swing in momentum.  One minute, you’ll see me leaping in the air with Curry admiration, the next, i’ll be slumped in my chair cursing negatively at an ill-advised Barr jumper or a ticky-tack Rossiter foul.  Whenever my personality clashes with BR (as it so often does), it’s up to one of us to stoically remind the other: “Solidarity.”

Solidarity is easy to discount during a Socon toilet flushing, but it was a lifeline during and after that dismal loss to Purdue last week.  With the game far out of reach, most CBS affiliates switched to UConn v. Gonzaga.  The station at my location kept the Davidson game on, and in masochistic fashion, I watched till the final second had expired off the clock, believing in a Curry miracle until the end.  BR’s feed was one of the many that switched, and I dutifully recounted the play-by-play for him and his family over the phone.  That’s solidarity.

But having gone off-track by paying the obligatory lip-service to a loss that we all deserved (see, e.g., my most recent “Superstar” post), I return to the task at hand: castigating those hapless spectators who paid double disrespect to their hot dogs — first, by somehow not eating the things by the time the game was nearly over, and second, by flipping the uneaten beef and bun onto the hardwood.  Seriously, did those fans really think Davidson would NOT win their 38th straight Socon contest?  Yeah, we’ve been struggling recently…but…that’s 38 consecutive wins.  38.  I don’t care if your frank is microwaved or even straight out of the refrigerator; it deserves more than a kamikaze flight path from row 35.

Admittedly, I’m a little bit concerned about the 79-75 margin of victory.  But not as concerned as I am with BR’s habit of putting ketchup on his hot dog.  As if the sodium dosage of a dog isn’t bad enough, spraying some liquid red salt on top generates more hypertension than watching Curry get hit with four offensive fouls before burying Duke with a trio of 35-foot daggers down the stretch.  I prefer my dogs dressed “Chicago Style.”  In fact, on my way out of Detroit next spring, I may need to make a stop in the Windy City to celebrate.

4th Watts