You Cannot Be Serious

I'm afraid. I am afraid that I'm about to wake up and hit my pillow with the realization that what took place this afternoon was just one long dream. Because it couldn't possibly have been real. Surely my beloved Stanford basketball team didn't defeat our most hated rival with an impossible 35 foot shot at the buzzer, right?

My day began at about 8:30am, when I arrived at Maples Pavillion to take my place in a line that was already about 700 people deep. This was the most elaborate 6th Man Club campout the school had ever had, as there were about about 15 tents set up overnight. I had the good fortune to find myself in line behind two of my Branner friends, so the next two and a half hours flew by and when the gates finally opened it was sunny and relatively warm for a February morning. My second bit of good luck was that I was able to get second row seats, once again due to some old Branner connections. See that's the good thing about being an RA for two years in a freshman dorm-- a lot of people wind up owing you favors.

The pre-game atmosphere was chillingly good. Everyone was buzzing about impatiently-- due to the pent-up frustration that comes from four straight Maples losses to the dastardly Wildcats. As the players were being announced, I noticed that a few of the students around me were extra excited and I suddenly realized that they weren't paying attention to any of the Stanford players who were taking the floor. I turned my head to where they were pointing to see Tiger Woods taking a courtside seat eight feet in front of me. I froze as I came to the realization that I'd be in the presence of a sports deity while simultaneously standing witness to the biggest game of the year. As the "Holy shit, it's Tiger Woods!" sentiment quickly spread through the crowd in the moments before tip-off, the game took on an epic significance-- this was now officially a scene.

The first half was surprisingly enjoyable for me. I say this because I'm typically a complete emotional wreck during these big Stanford games, as my competitive ferocity usually overshadows my ability to have fun at these things. But as I watched Stanford build a nice lead, I felt a sense of contentment, a joy even, despite the fact that I knew there was a looong way to go and my state of being wouldn't stay this swell for the entire game. Because in college basketball, anything less than a 10 point lead is essentially the same as a tie game. It's like the margin of error in a presidential poll-- a nine point lead in the first 37 minutes of regulation is statistically insignificant.

When the Cats made that 14-0 run in the second half, you could feel the wheels falling off. Everyone in the crowd was in denial as we cheered harder and harder as Stanford's lead evaporated, but we all knew what was happening. When Salim Stoudamire hit that dagger-in-the-heart 3 with under a minute left it was very, very hard to hold out hope that we could overcome a four point deficit. But then things started getting surreal. I mean, when's the last time Stanford played a trap-- and actually forced a steal from a trap? When Childress hit the three-pointer that tied the score at 77, the crowd around me erupted, but for some reason I stayed silent. My body just refused to react and I just stood there hyperventalating as everyone around me went bezerk. Perhaps I knew, that bigger celebrations were to come?

As 'Zona tried to get the ball up the court I could sense that the Cats were out of sync. The crowd noise was overwhelming, our surprising pressure defense clearly caught them off guard and it just seemed like Nick Robinson and Matt Lottich were confident while Mustafa Shakur and Salim Stoudamire looked flustered. So when Nick came up with the loose ball with 4 seconds left, it was almost like I expected it. Many of us were screaming and gesturing for Nick to call a timeout so that we could set up some kind of offensive set to win the game. Obviously, none was needed. When Nick's heave rattled in the basket, it was like the world around me exploded.

Things were blurry, everything was shaking and people were making sounds I had never heard before. The storming of the court was instant and engulfing, like champagne spewing from a shaken-up bottle of Cristal. We didn't even bother to go around the two rows of spectator seats between the stands and the court and several of the rich fans (including Jim Plunkett's wife) were knocked to the ground. We spent a good 30 minutes jumping up and down on the Maples floor, hugging sweaty players and random fans. Everyone had already realized that they had just witnessed a game that will join Madsen's and-one to beat Rhode Island and Casey's bankshot to beat Duke in the annals of Stanford basketball lore (not to mention one of the greatest finishes in college basketball history) and nobody wanted to let the moment go.

I kept repeating "The greatest ever! The greatest ever!" as I wandered around the court hugging my friends. I could use adjectives like exhausted, relieved, euphoric and incredulous, but the best way to describe how I felt at that moment is grateful. A fan can only wish to have their favorite team win a game like that in a manner like that and I still feel so blessed to have been there in person. When I think about everything that was involved today- the bitter rivalry, the disappointments of the past four years, standing within spitting distance of Tiger Woods, the last minute comeback, the miraculous buzzer-beater, the rapturous celebration- I can say in all seriousness that was one of the greatest moments of my life.

So now I just sit and wonder- did this all really happen?