the big game

i thought by putting distance or baggage between me and the 3 maddest marchmadnessmen i know, i wouldn't catch the fever this year.

yeah, right. and you can just drive past a near-perfect record without trying to catch a glimpse.

we gathered at the bar Saturday. it was packed around the big screens and everyone was jolly. (well, except for day-after-the-dental-prom attendees, who curled up on a couch and caught a nap.)

my st. louis correspondent half-heartedly reported on the mayhem, despite his disdain for the illini.
'it's f-ing nuts down here,' he said. 'if i didn't know better, i'd think i was in freaking champaign.'
he later admitted to joining in the debauchery somewhere on the weekend agenda between 'celebratory 2-year anniversary dinner' and 'girlfriend's birthday,' (the *real* reasons for the trip.) c'mon, man. who are you kidding? no one is immune. but i'll let your nasty comments slide as long as you don't forget to bring me that t-shirt.

another correspondent called in with reports of police presence on every champaign block and efforts to keep campus dry. good luck with that; i'm sure people have heard of a little ol' establishment called Piccadilly Liquor in savoy.

rioting aside, i'm personally rather smug about how they decided to forgo exposing the chief to the nation and spent cameratime on the band instead. wise choice. did you see the guy who shaved his hair into an I-shaped patch? now there's some spirit, yes-we-do.

Talk about slow and steady progress. first they removed the chief's face from locker-room toilet paper. now they're leaving the toe-touching clown at home. hopefully they'll retire its *honorary* culled-together garb and cardio kick routine mockery sometime before 2048.

okay, i'm done. soapbox re-overturned.

i'd like to say the crowd went wild after saturday's win. sure, the I-L-L texts were flying (left hanging for the most part) but it was a pretty mild, self-satisfied reaction overall. maybe we were spoiled by other nail-biter tourney games. or maybe we're old. i'd like to think we're just letting the excitement build until the big game. that and practicing for the fake illness we'll have to call work about the day after the championship.

no, we're old. at least i am. my shoulder is still sore from overexerting myself at air hockey. but i've still got my mad chuck e. cheese skills. bring on the skee-ball, baby.

go illinois.