Luck

Tonight, the Stanford women were lucky, and not very good. In the first half at Arco arena in Sacramento, Stanford shot a miserable 25%, a season low. The Cardinal threw up bricks and clanked off the rim all night long. Their big stud Jayne Appel fouled out. The team looked flat and completely out of sync. Kayla Pederson and Nnemkadi Ogwumike hoisted the struggling team on their shoulders and kept them in the game against a tenacious Xavier team who for 39 minutes took it to the number 1 regional seed. In the waning seconds of a tied game, it all came down to one play. With elbows flying in a full out scrum under the basket, Xavier missed 2 huge shots, gimmes, right beneath the rim. Pederson having an outstanding game somehow snagged her 10th board and called time out with 4 seconds left. Did VanDerveer or her assistant Tucker really draw up the next play? Because when the ball was inbounded Jeanette Pohlen, utilizing her blazing speed, who was 1 for 5 all night drove the length of the floor for an 'out of body' money layup which gave Stanford the win as the clock expired catapulting them into the Final Four. The Cardinal spilled off the bench and dog-piled. They knew they had dodged a bullet. In sports, unlike the real world, luck always finds a way, baby. Tonight was a wake up call. If Stanford cannot snap out of their current narcoleptic state it'll be another sorry post-season collapse and a quick return flight from San Antonio. Appel the big, the Pac 10 star of the team took the game net and gave it to Pohlen, the unlikely hero, who was, uh, in the locker room savoring a Farokmanesh moment of her own.

Conned

Or Konged as the NCAA women's basketball world knows too well...once a long long time ago a hand painted sign bobbed and weaved above the basketball court in the Hartford, Conn. stands. The sign said, "UConn. Where the men are men and the women are Champions." Does the Auriemma train ever get de-railed? The best team in all of college basketball has won 75 games in a row, and is closing on John Wooden's 88 game record. Not a lot of the sporting world is aware of that fact. Why? Because women's basketball is played beneath the rim. It's slower than the men's game, and more predictable. Phi slamma jamma does not live here. Games are won by point guards with guile, inside presence and coaches that are cutthroat schemers. While spectators are having out of body experiences watching the men; women's game is a steady constant endorphin charge. There are 2 teams that MIGHT be able to halt the UConn juggernaut: Baylor and their young super star 6'8" Brittney Griner who destroyed Tennessee today with her 28 points and 10 blocks. It's hard for an ol Blue to say the next word, the S word, but this could be the year for Tara VanDerveer and Stanford. All the pieces are in place. Point guard is healthy. Big forwards Kayla Pedersen, and Nnemkadi Ogwumike are balanced by Jayne Appel in the post who can bang with the best. The key for this Stanford team is to forget about all the bitter losses, the big chokes, and not look ahead to San Antonio. If they do that, and remember that UConn has to climb into their basketball uni's just like they do, then Stanford might be able to pull a Northern Iowa of their own. By the way, this is not a sports blog! It's the Madness.

Bracket Busters

Gotta top seed you wanna topple? Who you going to call? Bracket Busters: St. Mary's, Cornell, and Northern Iowa. There was plenty of sobbing and shredding over the weekend after those 3 teams decked Nova, Wisconsin, and the best basketball team in the land, Kansas. That's a 10 seed taking out a 2; a 12 seed whipping a 4; and a 9 seed booting the over-all top pick back to Kansas from the land of Oz. It was a rude awakening for the major conferences. But that's what we love about the tournament. The feel good story. The mini Davids with their slingshots ravaging predictability and order. Did anyone really know where Moraga, CA was before the tournament? Or heard of a kid called Samhan? How about Cornell? A bunch of slow pasty white kids plodding up and down the court. Can they really slamajama in the Ivies? And then there's Northern Iowa. Now the land of Ali Farokhmanesh. Who? Ali Farokhmanesh. The kid who sent the Jayhawks crying to the showers; the kid who hit the dagger, the clutch 3 point shot at the end of the game; the ultimate bracket buster who felled Goliath and gave us one of the most memorable games in NCAA history...that's as good as it will ever get. And we say that every year.

March Madness!!

Strange things happen at this time of year. Productivity in the US of A drops to an all time low. Sick leave and Dr.'s appointments abound. For 2 weeks, it's as if the shroud of Turin was draped over Mt. Rushmore, and vast segments of the population abandoned what-ever and went to worship. Ok. maybe I embellished a bit. But, don't look now at your colleague in the next cube. That's not really a spreadsheet he or she is gazing at. It's a bracket. A 64 team bracket of delirium that spans those amber waves of grain. Even the leader of the free world is touched by the Madness. El Presidente from a room deep in the White House is unveiling his bracket later on today. Last year he liked Georgetown. It is mind numbing and ridiculously hard to pick the Final 4, the Final 2, and the Champion. A long, long time ago in another galaxy, I won my work pool when North Carolina cut down the nets. I haven't been close since. Of local interest, Cal will play in the tournament. But their path is not easy. I picked them to make it out of the 1st round against Louisville. The trouble with the Cal Bears is, you never know if Good Bears or Bad Bears will show up on the court. If Cal wins, they must beat Duke to advance. Once upon a time (1993) when Jason Kidd was running the point, Cal shocked Duke to advance to the sweet 16. Could this be dejavu? Not so fast. For the record, this year it's Duke, the team everyone loves to hate to win it all. In my other bracket, of course I've entered more than one pool, it's those rock chalk jayhawks from Kansas. March Madness promises the goodies and always delivers; it's Mr. Toad's wild ride in frenetic free-fall, and yes, in college basketball because expectations fly as high as someone skying over you, unlike other sports, crying is allowed. Lots of it. Because some one has to lose.

Turkey lurkey

I have a wild turkey shot glass which I am very fond of. It's cradled shots of Napa port, Tunisian brandy, agave tequila, and various scotch malts. I purchased that and a couple of bottles of Kentucky bourbon on a hot summer day along a winding road, outside of Louisville, which had few cars and fewer houses. I found out later that distillery's like refinery's are set apart from populated areas in case something goes 'boom' in the middle of the night. So, imagine my surprise today, when my next door neighbor pounded on my door and said that there were turkeys on the garage roof in our backyard. Incredulous, I grabbed my camera; we popped some windows in her living room and I started shooting. There were 6 turkeys. In Oakland. Birds not people. WTF? They were roosting and preening in the sun...exact replicas of the wild turkey etched on my shot glass. Sleuthing online brought up these facts. California wild turkeys are really part of the Rio Grande species. They eat grubs and nuts, and live in wooded areas. Obviously these turkeys were oblivious to the zip code. Turkeys can fly, but not very far. And they are, like some of the Mormon sect, polygamous. Hmmm. They don't share that little fact in Science 101. Where did the turkeys come from? Were they lost? Or do they secretly live 5 doors down from me. All cities hoard mysteries. This appears to be one of them. At the end of the day, I'll think of those brown birds, the ones Ben Franklin lobbied for as our national bird (god almighty), splash a drink into that Kentucky shot glass and hoist one to them.

A Mortal Lock

Someone in the Oscars pre-production show not only has a long memory but also a twisted sense of humor. Vegas odds for the Academy Awards were posted at all the casinos. The 'Hurt Locker' was a 'wiseguys' pick; what gamblers call a 'mortal lock' to take down the director's award for Kathryn Bigelow. So who you going to dial-up to hand out that chunk of hardware? Why, none other than Barbara Streisand, who in 1983 and 1991 (midst swirling controversy) was passed over not once but twice for a best director's nomination, while the movies which she starred, produced and directed, 'Yentl' and 'Prince of Tides', were heavily nominated in other categories but...so it was a brassy move to roll Barbara out of mothballs, in anticipation of Kathryn Bigelow's historic win. Those of you who have been following the blog know that the 'Hurt Locker' was one of the first topics I wrote about last year. The movie has grossed only 12.2 million. A pitiful amount of money in the film industry; but make no mistake about it, the Hurt Locker is no candy ass movie made in some back lot. This is the film who could and did put the 'hurt' on a field admittedly diluted by the ridiculous 10 nomination best picture format. Bigelow's film stood tall and distinguished itself in a year dominated by big budgeted Hollywood films. Art over CGI. Chalk one up for Indie true grit. And how about Sandy Bullock? On a recent flight over the Pacific I watched 'The Blindside.' I felt like someone had called a line backer blitz on me. I was tired and emotionally drained from my trip, however I couldn't take my eyes off the screen. And maybe Bullock did 'over the years wear us all down.' What a refreshing self-deprecating remark! For two hours I launched myself into the drama and forgot momentarily where exactly I was. Somehow, I think Bullock would agree that's what good movies are all about.

I survived the...

After a night of feasting on grade A sashimi and sushi, comprised of local fish harvested from the pristine Hawaiian waters, and deep into REM wonderland, a high pitched siren jolted me off the air mattress. It was 6am. The Chilean earthquake had spawned a tsunami, and was on target for the islands; landing time was estimated at 11:30 for Oahu. Television stations blared the news: long lines and 'runs' on gasoline, water, batteries and food. To understand the precaution, and the panic, the history of tidal waves is deeply embedded within the local population. In 1946, on the big island of Hawaii, Hilo was struck seven times by a tidal wave that devastated the town and killed 159 people. But perhaps the most poignant tragedy occurred in Laupahoehoe. After the first 2 tidal waves hit the shore, children from a school located along the coastline went to gather the fish left by the waves; as the water receded 26 children and 4 teachers were killed when another wave 35-50 feet struck the beach. On that day, the island of Oahu was hit by 36 foot waves. My brother's condo is across the street from the Waikiki Yacht harbor. The Pacific ocean sits there like the crown jewel that it is. That morning yachts and boats started a mass exodus for open waters. Better to bob on the high seas then sit moored in the basin. Six floors up, we watched the police barricade the street from traffic. Waikiki was a ghost town. 7-11 shelves were swept clean; no spam or bread! Beer was easily the liquid grain of choice. We decided to stay. But, we moved two cars and an Indian choppper to higher ground. When I read the news the next day, everyone had a story to tell. My favorite: the savvy locals who drove to the Pali, a range of the Ko'olau mountains, rendering a magnificent view of the towns of Kailua, and Kaneohe, with hibachis, six packs, ukes, pets and families in tow, an instantaneous community,'ohana,' (family) perched high on the cliffs where the great Kamehameha once stood.