(Hugs might consider bookmarking this site)
So with Drake (and our Durham’s Dogs) out, we really don’t care much about who makes the Final Four. Or who wins (officially, we have Stanford). Now instead, we’ve made the decision to adopt a team. Actually, really a person, as our rooting interest for the rest of the tournament.
Watching the West Virginia-Arizona game last night made us think about how much we absolutely adore Bob Huggins. Following sports can get really boring sometimes. Unpredictability, volatility, late night lawbreaking and perennial underachieving teams are what keeps us interested. And of course, that’s what best describes Huggins’ coaching career.
College basketball is the one sport where confidence men like Huggins, John Calipari and Bruce Pearl can come in and elevate a program in about 36 hours with their off-the-showroom-floor, oily salesmanship. But Calipari and Pearl are too nice. Too predictable.
We’ll take Huggins. To wit, what other coach could make San Antonio this season and get a DUI the night before the big game in a Taco Cabana drive-thru? What other coach could engender such profound love and admiration from his fans:
And most importantly, what other coach could get his team :01 away from the national championship but somehow lose because of his eternally inept bench coaching (think Guy Lewis)?
So that’s our m.o. for now, at least until WVU blows a huge lead to lose in the second round. There’s probably some other good stories to be scared out as the days and weeks wear on, but we’re sticking to the man fueled by a daily dozen 3am White Castles, a midday meeting with Smirnoff ‘n stones, and a likely postgame Pall Mall (King Size).