Poor Mississippi State. Just last year they slew the mighty dragon (UConn, breaking the longest winning streak of all time) in the semi-finals, only to come up short to South Carolina for all the marbles.
This year they got past a favored Louisville team in the semis, and then watched it all go away during the Finals again. They had Notre Dame. And then they didn't.
Bridesmaids again.
In this day of political correctness, which yours truly continues to scoff at, no doubt the "feel good" stories will be about how Notre Dame rose to the proverbial occasion.
And while that has merit, the flip side is just as real. Miss St. would have won that game, and their first national championship, if one Teaira McCowan hadn't choked at the worst possible time. With the game clock winding down to its last final seconds, the 6'7" junior blew a lay-up. Lay-ups are to basketball players what six inch putts are to golfers. Only a spaz, or one experiencing a colossal choke can possibly miss them.
On that note, things probably aren't good for Ms. McCowan right about now. She has to live with the fact she cost her teammates, coaches, school, and fans a national championship. Ack!!!
Of course, that's assuming she has the mental faculties to process this in the first place. By her expressions, or lack thereof, shortly after the game, it's hard to tell. Maybe she just doesn't get it. Who knows?
Nevertheless, Notre Dame is now the ladies' national champions.
And that's tough for someone such as myself to acknowledge. That's because I never did like Notre Dame, or ever will.
Long ago I became fed up with their smugness and sense of self-entitlement. And I've had it up to my eyeballs with shamrocks, leprechauns, and their infernal fight song blaring every two minutes during a game.
Good grief. Even their team name is laughable. The real Notre Dame is a cathedral in Paris -- as in France. So why do they call themselves the Fighting Irish? Could it be because the "Fighting French" doesn't sound exactly fearsome?
Over the years, there have been those that have called me a "hater". I hate this, or I hate that. They've pretty much been wrong. The only thing I truly hate is liver, and I don't care how it's cooked -- I hate it, period. Get that foul smelling animal oil filter away from me. Yet I certainly reserve the right to root for -- and AGAINST -- whoever I damn well choose.
And I have long chose to root against all things Notre Dame. And Tiger Woods for that matter. Never did like that guy. Still don't, and likely never will. Throw in the Dallas Cowboys, LA Dodgers, and Montreal Canadiens while we're at it. Don't like them and their uppity ways.
But it's not "hate". I don't even hate my ex, and she ripped me off something terrible.
Yet things have a way of changing. The non-stop wall-to-wall coverage and hero worship of Eldrick Tont Woods, not even in the top 100 golfers in the world, is definitely grating on me more. So are any moronic advertising spots featuring the big ugly, sometimes known as Shaq, hawking a product. If he's selling it -- I ain't buying it. Period.
The "most interesting man in the world". A duck, a lizard, and some homely twit named Flo trying to push insurance policies. A few more replays of Lebron James' dunks force fed to the public as supposed "highlights". And the list keeps growing.
Keep jamming it down my throat and, yeah, I might just develop out and out hate for these things and people. But it would have been their fault. Enough is enough. Quit it already. I WANT to like ducks, even homely women, though I'm not sure about lizards.
But at the end of the day, I begrudgingly give a shout out to Notre Dame. They're the, urp, national champions, gag, of the ladies college basketball world this year. Barf.
Here's to them.
Yet overriding their feat are the immortal words of the late Glen "Bo" Schembechler, long of Michigan football fame.
"To hell with Notre Dame".
Always did like that guy.....
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