Big Mismatch, Little Mascot & Other Images
The phrase “We will, we will, rock you … rock you,” mysteriously keeps coming to mind.
I’ve also been walking around with this urge - at sporadic intervals - to shout the word “HEY!”
And dancing before my eyes are armies of towel-wielding ball-boys, on all fours, wiping gallons of player sweat off the court - like a legion of little human Zambonis.
Clearly, watching four college men’s basketball games in five days can have damaging effects on an individual.
But it’s also the best way to make some observations about the status of the game in the region.
Such as:
Let’s hope for sparse attendance on Hand Grenade Night.
No more projectile giveaways, OK?
The generous folks at Eastern Washington handed out miniature plastic basketballs before the game against Gonzaga the other night.
It became clear after a call went against the Eagles in the second half, though, those weren’t souvenirs.
They were ammo.
As is usually the case, only a handful of morons fired balls onto the court.
But those fans - the few, the bold, the stupid - are having busts sculpted to be placed next to Jeffrey Lange’s at the new Low-life Scum Hall of Fame (under construction at The Meadowlands).
Shamon, next week you check Shaq.
When all the reports of last-second and overtime developments had been made, some noteworthy play in the Washington State-UCLA game went unheralded.
During one stretch in the second half, as the teams were swapping leads, UCLA pinpointed and attempted to exploit a glaring mismatch - 6-foot-5, 220-pound Bruin Kris Johnson being checked by 5-10, 163-pound Cougar Shamon Antrum.
This is like the flea going man-to-man on the dog.
But Antrum was so quick and so determined that he shut off Johnson.
One time, he navigated the lengthy route around Johnson and speared the ball away with a diving lunge. While still prone on the court, he desperately crawled, commando-style, in futile quest for the ball.
An inspiring effort well worth a “HEY!”
This is like penalizing Peter McNeeley for head-butting Mike Tyson’s fists.
Sure, officials are easy targets. And, generally, the criticism is the unwarranted result of fan bias.
However, three times in four games, I saw a rebounder grab the ball and be hammered so hard by an opponent he went flying through the air.
His reward: to be called for traveling.
This defies the laws of both physics and the NCAA.
Also, infractions for palming the ball and lengthy stays in the lane apparently will no longer be penalized.
Bag limit, one per game.
Yes, that little kid in the Cougar cub outfit may be the most cuddly mascot in the country.
But the guy in the “Butch” costume has strayed outside his territory.
During the UCLA game, “Butch” repeatedly jumped around - ON THE COURT while the Bruins had the ball at the other end.
We appreciate the enthusiasm, Butch, but not the range.
One timely fast break and you’re road kill.
Did that coach actually pat a player on the back?
Anyone seeing EWU play has to recognize the enormous change first-year coach Steve Aggers has brought to the program.
Not only do the players listen and learn from him, but he doesn’t repeatedly and indelicately drop the F-bomb on referees, as was the habit of his predecessor, John Wade.
Wade was a hard-working guy who wore a scowl as if it were a permanent facial decal.
Look for the improving Eagles, under Aggers’ steady hand and positive approach, to claw up out of the Big Sky basement.
Swoosh this.
Yes, I understand the sad reality that commercial influences are a part of collegiate athletics in this last decade of the 20th Century.
But is anyone else having trouble stomaching the sight of pins bearing gym-shoe company logos sticking out of coaches’ lapels at games?
Ton of fun.
EWU’s 6-foot-8, 300-pound Melvin Lewis may be more than just the best darned algebra student out of Southeastern College of the Bible.
For my money, he’s the most animated and entertaining player in the region.
Grinning, grimacing, laughing, scratching his hams, Lewis’ actions make him worth the price of admission.
His offense along the baseline is remarkably deft. And when the play gets physical, forget it - there’s nobody like him.
Because he will, he will, rock you … rock you.
, DataTimes