A Slice of Bacon

There are very few times in my life when I was super proud of somebody or something. The day my sister decided to stand up for herself in a tough situation was one of them. The day my best friend figured out the right move and did it was another. And Saturday, March 26, might go down as another.

Why? Because my beloved Arizona Wildcats lost. They didn’t win a game they absolutely could have, in a place they absolutely should never have been. Why am I proud? Because this is the type of team that makes sports brilliant. 

Disclaimer: Sports are my life. I wake up each morning reading about them, write about them during the day, and then spend afternoons exercising to them. I see every team imaginable come through, from the frisky Lakers to the Cinderella Bulldogs. Sports are beautiful, because they never allow you any insight. One minute you’re down on a team, and the next you’re rooting hard for them to make the Final Four. 

That’s what happened the last week. I was given the opportunity to root for my team. I was allowed the chance to pull for a squad of guys that are exactly why we love these games. Nobody thought Arizona was good. Nobody picked them to get past Texas, and if they did, there was a smaller chance of them uprooting a dominant Duke team that looked destined to reenact the Grant Hill-Christian Laettner play. 

But this Arizona team wouldn’t quit. They were the fun team to pull for.

As time winded down against Connecticut, it seemed like the game was over. No chance we’d come back again, right? As the ball tipped around with seconds ticking away, a pass found the only senior on the team. The players name was Jamelle Horne, and if stories are currency, this guy would be a millionaire. Horne has been on the team all four years. He was round for the Louisville rout in the Sweet Sixteen. More importantly, he was the goat twice in his career. He committed two stupid fouls that made every Arizona foul slap their forehead multiple times. But this moment … this opportunity … was why Hollywood his Hollywood and this is life. Horne checked in with less than a minute to go and hit a huge three to give Arizona a chance. After Connecticut missed a three, the ball was in the Wildcats’ hands down two points. Our superstar missed a three, Horne tipped it out, and it landed back in his hands with less than four seconds left. If that ball touched net, I couldn’t imagine the relief Horne would have felt for his time in Tucson. It should have gone down. That’s how the story was written. 

But it didn’t. It missed. Connecticut won, as they probably should have, and the lasting image I will have from March Madness 2011 is Derek Williams walking off with Horne under his shoulder. One guy is heading to millions, the other probably struggling to make a buck in any professional basketball league that will take him. There is a good chance you will never hear of Horne again, but for one moment, he was the ring bearer in Arizona’s attempt to move on. It didn’t work out, but it was exactly how it should have.

I’m proud to be a Wildcat. When I was 18, I didn’t really know my plan, or where I wanted to go. I didn’t know what school I wanted to attend. I picked Arizona on a whim, and after spending four tough years as a sports fan there, continued to question why I did this to myself. But it is moments like Saturday that make me understand why. This is a team to be proud of. This is a group of guys that fought as hard as they could to advance. These are guys that you want to pull for.

Thanks, boys, for an opportunity to cheer. Sports sometimes fail us, but this 2011 Arizona Wildcats team didn’t. You make me proud. Bear down, fellas.