The Extent of My Hypocrisy

“I’m surprisingly calm,” I IM’d Matt with half-hearted honesty.

“Just wish we could put it away,” he responded rather forebodingly.

Ten minutes later, after watching our fifth nine-point lead of the night dwindle back to only one, I wasn’t so calm.

Suddenly, fouls were being called on white jerseys, unremarkable in even the remotest of ways because these were fouls Alabama “had to give.” Having fouls to give doesn’t necessarily mean you can play defense more aggressively, but rather fight for your life through the use of legal intentional fouls; suddenly a handful of jersey off the ball is a clean foul. I’m not claiming innocence – everyone does it, including us. It’s one of the many ironies of basketball that you can bump and hack on the low post all night without incident, but after 39 minutes of play, suddenly the slightest of contact on an inbounds play results in a blown whistle.

And in Tuscaloosa on Thursday night, after a startling six team fouls in 39 minutes of play, whistles started screeching with such frequency and haste that time literally stood still, waning ever so delicately in measures of fractions rather than integers. The referees had held their collective breath with obstinacy the entire night whenever someone in a red jersey had been hacked, and yet now, with a minute to play, whistles were being unfurled with eager anticipation of a foul.

We’re shooting our first free throw with 25 seconds remaining when suddenly it’s to Bama’s advantage to foul us? So, yeah, of course I’m much less calm.

For Heaven’s sake, are we in Cameron?

And of course it isn’t helping that Larry Connelly is adding his Majerus-esque color commentary on how the ACC has two of the nation’s premier free throw shooters in J.J. Redick and Engin Atsur, who at 74.2% isn’t in the Top 10 in the ACC or the Top 100 in the nation, although he did sink both ends of a one-and-one.

But I digress.

We held on for the win to move to 9-1 and move up to #18 in the polls, but more importantly, at some point during the excitement of that game, I caught myself surrounded by the strangest ambiance: I was actually enjoying a State basketball game. Dare I say, I came to the stark realization that we are, indeed, a fun team to watch play.

I caught myself lauding Ced for being a beast in the paint, Cam for being the athlete I’ve always wished we’ve had, and Brackman for his inherent finesse. Above all, it’s quite ironic how much fun a game becomes when you quit worrying about the outcome – because it really doesn’t matter – and most of all you don’t expend all available energy lamenting speciously at the TV about Herb Sendek (it’s very likely he can’t hear you anyway).

I know it borders on the surreal, but my hypocrisy reaches only so far: I’ll admit that this team is actually pretty damn good. They play with fiery emotion, seamless intensity, and at times, a daunting finesse unmatched by any other Sendek team.

This team won’t win the ACC and it won’t play in Indianapolis, and I’m okay with that. This is my favorite team since Herb’s first in 1997; I like the fact that Ced, Brack, and Ev have become what Thornton, Kelley, and Inge were supposed to have been in 2000. I like Evtimov’s clumsy hooks, Atsur’s gritty, unrelenting defense, and Cam’s seemingly boundless athleticism.

And all-in-all, I have to admit Herb has done a fine job so far, and so I guess it was just time to give him a break and be a fan again. And that seems like a good comment to end on.

Like I said, my hypocrisy only extends so far.