A Fond Season

This is for my mental wellness. This is for my sanity. This is for the ability to move on. When Scottie Reynolds convulsed himself to within 12 feet of the basket and threw up an off-balance desperation shot, he sank more than the basket – he sank my heart.

I am in unfamiliar territory as a sports fan – not in the sense of losing; as a Jewish Philadelphian I have tasted the Passover bitter herb countless times in the form of sports. The unfamiliarity I am dealing with at the present is as a college sports fanatic. Sure, I watched the big games throughout the year on a Tuesday or Wednesday when the Phillies, Flyers, or Sixers weren’t on. I filled out my March Madness bracket(s) with every intention of winning, reciting smart facts and tid-bits presented to sports nation by Andy Katz and Doug Gotlieb on ESPN. Villanova won my allegiance pretty early on, but the passion I held for them was practically nothing compared to my affinity for our professional sports teams. That all officially changed when my collegiate sports cherry popped, no burst, around 10:00 PM on Saturday, March 28, 2008.

Let us rewind to November of 2007, my first PITT basketball game. I unknowingly donned my gray Pitt Basketball shirt, unaware that I was about to enter a zoo of gold – The Oakland Zoo. At halftime I was part of the Zoo, another 6^th man of the basketball team that has guided the team to an unprecedented 110-10 record in our home stadium, the Petersen Events Center, since it opened in ’02. One Big East Championship later and a freshman year wiser – I was completely prepared for the 2008-2009 season. All year long I jumped, screamed, and continued to wait in line for games. Add two number-one-rankings and two defeats of number-one UConn, and we were on our way to the best season in Pitt basketball history.

After many heart palpatations in the first round against East Tennessee State, I made the decision to embark on a four hour road trip to Dayton, Ohio for our second round matchup with the Oklahoma State Cowboys with my friend Bird. Many thanks to my parents who graciously dished out the cash to treat us to a night in the Holiday Inn, which might as well have been the Ritz-Carlton of Dayton. The hotel bartender gave us the number of a man with tickets and an hour later, albeit 120 dollars lighter in the wallet, Bird and I held shiny tickets to the games the following day.

More late game heroics from Levance Fields and another career game from Sam Young led to a win and a sweet 16 berth, and a much calmed down heart. Levance took care of business down the stretch against Xavier and marched us into elite status, the Elite 8 that is. And who should we be playing but my old favorite team, the Wildcats of Villanova.

After a game of lead changes and up-and-down performances by both teams, the season was over. Levance finally made two free throws when it counted most, yet our defense couldn’t hold them off. Ironically, the one time Philadelphia defeated Pittsburgh when it mattered, I was completely miserable.

That night, I couldn’t sleep. I woke up at 730 – something I haven’t done since I had a summer job. I drove myself into Squirrel Hill, a little Jewish town reminiscent of the Main Line. I bought a book, ordered a fish platter and matzo ball soup at a Jewish Deli and read. After that I made my way back across the street to Barnes & Noble and read some more. After unnecessarily feeding the parking meter (free on Sundays) I treated myself to a matinee viewing of The Reader. Some nude Kate Winslet to brighten my day. This day of mourning came to a close. I was at peace with the end of the Sam Young, Levance Fields, and Tyrell Biggs era in Pitt basketball and I was damn proud of them. Watching the student athletes on and off the court as they succeeded and failed and received more attention than any normal college student filled me with pride. Levance Fields is a 5 foot 10, chubby point guard with the purest passing and dribbling ability and leadership that can be found. He has not been mentioned in any NBA draft talks. He worked and played hard and will go down as the greatest point guard in the school’s history. Watching the work ethic of this team along with Coach Jamie Dixon’s heavy heart of a lost sister and a forced end to his surprising playing career added yet another spot in my heart for sports.

My dad said, “…pot of gold…how you get there…” and it spoke to me. We will win a National Championship one day. I am sure of it. And until that time, I will continue to watch, support, and emotionally invest in this team. However, I’m hoping to not make this Jewish Deli trip an annual event.