We're down to three on Wyckoff: Mike bit the dust when Hawai'i started their pregame shoot around, or about the time Rutgers transfer Justin Sofman got off the Monmouth bus in Jersey City. Dude, if you were still at Rutgers, you'd be sleeping right now.
I hate my life every time ESPN states how far we are into the marathon. We'd be better off with a Casino approach. No windows, no clocks, just basketball and our computers.
Sign Watch: Wow, St. Peter's students are falling short with the signs. One says "LOL." Seriously? At least the St. Mary's kids had the guts to tell us we have STD's. But please, next time engage the modern lexicon: STI. It could be worse, BYU would use VD's, and I expect a sign that says "You have sins on your genitals" during the Liberty game.
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We've battled hard for Andy Katz's attention, but we're falling short. The twitter messages received only a vague reference to loyal basketball fans in New Jersey. The guy clearly forgets what its like to be telling bad jokes on no sleep.
Bacon, egg, and cheese sandwiches are in the works. The irish coffee doesn't quite have the same impact on my energy level that it did six hours ago. I need to borrow a little zest from this Saint Peter's squad. They've come out gunning, and have a 15-7 lead. Monmouth is laying a Mike out there. Not sure if that means we're due for a strong second half from the team from South Jersey.
Two bits of news: smoke from the bacon set off our fire alarm. The girls upstairs loved that little bit, didn't they? Also, the tiniest bit of sun has given the sky a blue tint. We've survived the night.
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A "Good Morning America" weather update. Don't insult us. The outdoor world doesn't exist unless our heat breaks, thus disturbing our warm and stuffy womb of disgusting college basketball adoration.
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5:53 left in the half, and we still haven't established any characters in this game. Where are the Samham's, Aussies, and sweaty Carter Blackburns? Dan Mal noted the inescapable feeling that we're watching a high school game. I can't tell if its the wood bleachers or the matted walls about six feet behind the hoops. This could lead to another discussion about hottest high school chicks from Bush's first term.
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Two years ago, Justin Sofman was told his name will one day be mentioned on national television at 6:37 AM--and not on SportsCenter. What thoughts went through his head? "Crap, am I going to get busted robbing a bank?" Perhaps...but more likely, "I'm going to date Salma Hayek." Look at this poop eating grin, he totally thought he was going to bag a celebrity:
---Dan Mal is preparing for a nap. Sleep is the most dangerous game, and Dan is conceding to it's deadly hand. Excuses given for Dan Mal's nap: "I want to run later," "I want this to be a productive day," "I want to make it to the bar later tonight."
Excuses debunked:
"I want to run later"
--That's what we bought the five hour energy drinks for.
"I want this to be a productive day"
--He's already had around five beers, and its 6:50 AM. Don't lie.
"I want to make it to the bar later tonight."
--I thought it was supposed to be a productive day...
Side note: Mike has predicted that Joe Lunardi will be at the center of ESPN's next sex scandal. A man gets lonely in a bracket-cave.
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The second fire alarm is going off. This one is upstairs. The girls are going to hate us for a few weeks.
Our kitchen looks like a scene from "Backdraft." We were a grease fire away from a bad day. Instead we're all going to smell like bacon smoke. Mike has declared he can't breathe in the kitchen. Big Dan appears to have steel lungs--figures--he is the Big Cat, impervious to all obstacles.
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They've got the giggles in the ESPN studio. Hubert Davis is having a good time, Jay Bilas is being Jay Bilas, but Digger follows every outburst of laughter with a nervous smile that seems to hint he can't hold out much longer. He'll be crashing on the floor of Dr. Lou's office in the Bristol Studios before you know it.
We've been operating under a "no baseball talk" rule all morning. Mike is tempting the margins of the rule by wearing a "Phil Hughes is God" t-shirt. What I'd pay for a t-shirt that says "Gordon Beckham is God's maker."
But back to basketball: Jay Bilas is loving Kyle Singler. Complimenting his "body" every time they show a Duke highlight. I don't remember Singler being large, but we're being told that the Duke star has slimmed down, and looks good on and off the court. Easy Jay...it's a long day, too early to start making things awkward.
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Seth Davis responds to Tweets. I knew I liked that guy. His insight is always some of the best available on a weekend afternoon in February and March. I can't wait for some CBS weekend games.
There is a player in this game with the last name Bacon, it would only be appropriate if he set the court on fire:
Justin Sofman just had a nice little bucket on a drive to the basket. It's not Salma, but hey, it might get a round of applause on SportsCenter. One of the best compliments I've heard for a college hoops player came from Scott Van Pelt, who called Greg Oden a "father"--in the dominating basketball sense. Like the d-bag dad who slams his toddler's stuffed basketball back into the crib and screams "in your face!"
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The broadcasters have informed us of showers in the Ohio Valley. Good to know. I'll be sure to stay in Jersey this afternoon.
Sofman with a three. Has this game found the character it was missing in the first half? He just missed a three leading to a Bacon dunk in transition. Competing characters? I like where this is headed.
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There is a Rutgers-esque collection of NIT banners behind the hoop in St. Pete's gym. It must be a New Jersey thing.
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If the tiny gym didn't make this game feel like a battle between New Jersey prep kids, the 38-25 score surely reminds me of a high school basketball game from back when Colin Powell was secretary of state.
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There are three stages of tired:
Stage 1: (my current stage) Yawns are frequent. Eyes are heavy.
Stage 2: (Big Dan's stage) Curled up in a ball. Feeling miserable.
Stage 3: (Dan Mal's stage) Sleeping peacefully under a warm blanket.
Mike is feeling chipper after napping during last game.
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Sign Watch: "Child Please." I'm thinking so hard for meaning...and coming up with so little.
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We knew this game was going to be a grinder, but this is absolutely miserable. The quality of play is hovering somewhere around "less than basketball." The announcers are as quiet as this living room. I can't imagine the crowd is feeling too much better, I'll give them credit though. They've brought a Texas high school homecoming enthusiasm to the middle of Jersey City.
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College basketball > Rob. My thoughts are flowing like Monmouth's offense. Which means I'm averaging about a thought every ten minutes. 56-34 in the single worst college basketball game I've ever watched. How bad does the Monmouth coaching staff want to be home. Sleepless and losing by 18. Worse than a tragedy. At least Romeo fell in love before his demise. Sofman and his Monmouth teammates have dreadful from start to finish...like spending the day with a tired and grumpy Digger Phelps.
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I'm out. Mike's in. Enjoy. Thanks.
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