8/30/2008
The Redeem Team
I've been cleaning up a few html errors which have been occuring on the ol' blog lately (man, I'm glad that weird .edu script stopped) and looking over some archives, when I saw my comment about the 2004 US Olympic basketball team:
"Sunday's loss to Puerto Rico is still lingering in the back of my mind. It doesn't help that the Wet Dream Team just snuck by a Greek team who had George Papadapolos from Webster playing power forward. I am a fan of basketball, one of 217 Americans who still have a rudimentary understanding of the game. Watching this collection of B-list NBA talent play in Athens has now left me with a facial cringe which may take a few days to go away. When our best "outside shooter", the highly overrated Richard Jefferson, is too concerned about what to yell after his next dunk- that he can't even square his shoulders with the basket before shooting a trey- then our team is in big, big trouble.
This is not the player's fault. Although most of them look like they're trying to duplicate the play of Michael J. Fox in Teen Wolf, they play the way that they have been playing all their lives. The American's who would make the best international players either did not want to go to Athens, for whatever reason (Jason Kidd, Michael Redd, Mike Bibby) or were not invited (Brent Barry, Fred Hoiberg, myself.) The selection process simply must be changed when picking the next Olympic team, remembering that the 2008 Olympics will be held in Beijing, not at Rucker Park. "
I would like to thank not only USA basketball on their decision to include guys who would translate well to the international game (the aforementioned Kidd, Deron Williams), but also to Kobe and LeBron, who are the caliber of American player that have been passing up on the Olympics since the original Dream Team in '92.
Good work, gents.
(Also, does anyone have any of those old 1992 Dream Team McDonalds cups for sale? Those things were t-y-t tight.)
(And, of course go Illini.)
"Sunday's loss to Puerto Rico is still lingering in the back of my mind. It doesn't help that the Wet Dream Team just snuck by a Greek team who had George Papadapolos from Webster playing power forward. I am a fan of basketball, one of 217 Americans who still have a rudimentary understanding of the game. Watching this collection of B-list NBA talent play in Athens has now left me with a facial cringe which may take a few days to go away. When our best "outside shooter", the highly overrated Richard Jefferson, is too concerned about what to yell after his next dunk- that he can't even square his shoulders with the basket before shooting a trey- then our team is in big, big trouble.
This is not the player's fault. Although most of them look like they're trying to duplicate the play of Michael J. Fox in Teen Wolf, they play the way that they have been playing all their lives. The American's who would make the best international players either did not want to go to Athens, for whatever reason (Jason Kidd, Michael Redd, Mike Bibby) or were not invited (Brent Barry, Fred Hoiberg, myself.) The selection process simply must be changed when picking the next Olympic team, remembering that the 2008 Olympics will be held in Beijing, not at Rucker Park. "
I would like to thank not only USA basketball on their decision to include guys who would translate well to the international game (the aforementioned Kidd, Deron Williams), but also to Kobe and LeBron, who are the caliber of American player that have been passing up on the Olympics since the original Dream Team in '92.
Good work, gents.
(Also, does anyone have any of those old 1992 Dream Team McDonalds cups for sale? Those things were t-y-t tight.)
(And, of course go Illini.)
Labels: ILL-INI, Olympics, Quoting Old Posts Like A D-Bag
11/10/2007
Illini v. tOSU
FUCK YEAH!
I was tempted to start livebloggin' it at halftime, but didn't want to mess with whatever in the universe that was working.
Biggest win in the programs history? I vote yay.
And holy god shit, what a fantastic payback for tOSU fucking up Illinois' perfect basketball season of 0'4-'05. HUGE win!
10/12/2007
Fall has Fallen
I'm off to the lake for a weekend of baseball playoffs (go indigenous peoples of north america), chili, football (go indigenous peoples of north america located in the upper Mississippi River valley!), and of course:
(Man, I wish I was old enough to have drank beer brand beer. That stuff always tantalized me as a young boy shopping with his mom at Krogers back in the day. Alas, in was nothing but Big K and Shasta grape sodas for me.)
But when I get back, there will be a special message to the person I hate the very most in the entire world (besides terrorists, the blind, and Carlos Mencia of course). So hopefully that will get you through the weekend.
[have a great one, ya'll. get out there and be somebody!]
(Man, I wish I was old enough to have drank beer brand beer. That stuff always tantalized me as a young boy shopping with his mom at Krogers back in the day. Alas, in was nothing but Big K and Shasta grape sodas for me.)
But when I get back, there will be a special message to the person I hate the very most in the entire world (besides terrorists, the blind, and Carlos Mencia of course). So hopefully that will get you through the weekend.
[have a great one, ya'll. get out there and be somebody!]
Labels: Beer, ILL-INI, Making fun of the blind since they'll never read this, Stuff You Probably Don't Care About
10/05/2007
Bachelor Party -> Sports
So the bachelor party was just about a complete and total success. We grilled some man meat from the Peoria oasis which is Pottstown Meat & Deli, rode around greater central Illinois on a bus, rocked ass at three different redneck bars, and ended up in downtown Peoria around one. Shortly thereafter, I went black and was asked to leave a drinking bar for the first time in probably five years.
From there I was denied entrance to world famous Big Al's (for being too drunk, natch), thrown in a cab, and may or may not have passed out on my buddy Tito's back porch for an undetermined amount of time. I woke up in his guest bedroom around 11 and how no idea how I got there. Neither did Tito.
Neither did anyone else, really. Nearly everyone blacked out.
A group of 28-27 year old guys, and the majority of us all blacked out? Real mature, gents, real mature. (And awesome.)
So the brain cells I killed Saturday night and the fluish symptoms I developed from sleeping outside for [scene missing] have left me with a good case of the bad week. Luckily the weekend is here with a veritable smörgåsbord of sports:
Baseball playoffs, Illinios v. Wisconsin (not on the Big Ten network!), Mizzou v. Nebraska, more baseball playoffs (go Indians!), and topping it all off with a Packers v. Bears Sunday night game.
Which leaves me to a whole weekend of recharging my batteries on the couch, eating chili, wings, and burgers, and killing even more brain cells with vodka and wine. Then next week, I can complain of being sick and poopy all week before rinsing and repeating next weekend.
It's a vicious cycle.
[have a great weekend, everyone. i hope youre as bonerly inducing excited for illinois game as i am; this could be epic.]
From there I was denied entrance to world famous Big Al's (for being too drunk, natch), thrown in a cab, and may or may not have passed out on my buddy Tito's back porch for an undetermined amount of time. I woke up in his guest bedroom around 11 and how no idea how I got there. Neither did Tito.
Neither did anyone else, really. Nearly everyone blacked out.
A group of 28-27 year old guys, and the majority of us all blacked out? Real mature, gents, real mature. (And awesome.)
So the brain cells I killed Saturday night and the fluish symptoms I developed from sleeping outside for [scene missing] have left me with a good case of the bad week. Luckily the weekend is here with a veritable smörgåsbord of sports:
Baseball playoffs, Illinios v. Wisconsin (not on the Big Ten network!), Mizzou v. Nebraska, more baseball playoffs (go Indians!), and topping it all off with a Packers v. Bears Sunday night game.
Which leaves me to a whole weekend of recharging my batteries on the couch, eating chili, wings, and burgers, and killing even more brain cells with vodka and wine. Then next week, I can complain of being sick and poopy all week before rinsing and repeating next weekend.
It's a vicious cycle.
[have a great weekend, everyone. i hope youre as bonerly inducing excited for illinois game as i am; this could be epic.]
Labels: boners, ILL-INI, Sports Sports Sports Sports Sports Sports Sports
2/23/2007
The O-B Bird
A newspaper article that made me actually laugh out loud? Yep, this one.
I would pay one million dollars to have a time machine, just so I could have been at that game. Then I would hunt and eat a woolly mammoth.
"(Redfern) calls me back and says, 'I just figured out why they were booing!' " Smith said. "And I said, 'Yeah, because it's a stupid idea.' "
"And (Redfern) says, 'No, because we're playing Ohio State and the colors of the costume were Ohio State's colors, and they thought that it was an Ohio State mascot," Smith said.
"And I said, 'No, they were booing because the idea sucks and it's a stupid idea,' " Smith said.
"And (Redfern) says, 'No, because we're playing Ohio State and the colors of the costume were Ohio State's colors, and they thought that it was an Ohio State mascot," Smith said.
"And I said, 'No, they were booing because the idea sucks and it's a stupid idea,' " Smith said.
I would pay one million dollars to have a time machine, just so I could have been at that game. Then I would hunt and eat a woolly mammoth.
Labels: Eating Prehistoric Creatures, ILL-INI, Links
2/22/2007
Boy, That Escalated Quickly
This story is all too quickly spiraling out of control. It went from being a car accident during one of the worst winter storms Cham-bana had seen in years; to a DUI where Jamar somehow drove over a mile when his car looked like it was totaled, then ran inside of his apartment and freaked out because he thought Carlwell was dead. So he left him in the passenger seat of his wrecked car, in the parking lot, during a blizzard. And someone else, completely unrelated to the accident, were the ones who called the cops after they noticed a 6’11” “dead dude” sitting inside of a wrecked car.
Next week, when it’s released that Smith and Carlwell were not, in fact, “drinking beer and tequila with some girls” before their accident, they were “shooting heroin, fucking goats, and sport killing the homeless in Rantoul with flaming tridents,” I, for one, will not be surprised.
It just goes to show you: Never trust a Peorian.
Never.
Next week, when it’s released that Smith and Carlwell were not, in fact, “drinking beer and tequila with some girls” before their accident, they were “shooting heroin, fucking goats, and sport killing the homeless in Rantoul with flaming tridents,” I, for one, will not be surprised.
It just goes to show you: Never trust a Peorian.
Never.
Labels: Are There Homeless People in Rantoul?, ILL-INI, The Startling Dearth of Cabs in Champaign
2/13/2007
Ah, Fuck.
Illini sharpshooter Jamar Smith and big man Brian Carlwell injured in a car accident.
Edit: Update from Will at Deadspin.
Edit: Update from Will at Deadspin.
1/24/2007
15-7; Nowhere To Go But Up.
A Frosted Flakes level “Grrrrr-reat!” win by the University of Illinois over Indiana last night, and while it was nice to see the Illini not give away a lead and commit 26 different shot clock violations, it was especially satisfying that the “big win” the Illini so desperately needed came against “Coach” Kelvin Sampson and his newly hated Hoosiers.
Sure, it would have been nice for the Illini to have gotten that “signature win” of theirs against either Wisconsin or Ohio State, but let’s face it, those two squads are leaps and bounds more talented than the boys in orange (how the hell did Wisconsin get so good in one year? Didn’t they lose to North Dakota State at home this time last year? That’s an impressive turn around to say the least). But they beat a ranked team and if they manage to finish out conference play at .500, they should sneak into the NCAA at somewhere around an 11 seed; playing with no pressure and, with a good draw, they might get to play Vassar or whoever knocks Kansas out of the tourney in the first round this year and sneak into the Sweet Sixteen. (Of course, this is a best case scenario; there is always the distinct possibility that they lose out and are NIT bound.)
And it’s not just that they beat a ranked team; they beat a newly venomous conference rival. The Illini have never really had an intra-conference rivalry – during the run of awesomeness of the last seven years, pretty much every other school has hated the Illini an equal amount – besides Mizzou there isn’t a school which year after year the fan base passionately wants to beat. One could make the case for a handful of schools (Michigan State, Wisconsin) that one despises for any particular reason (I personally still hate Ohio State for ruining the unbeaten season of ’04-’05), but there wasn’t a school which really made the blood boil for the entire state.
Kelvin Sampson and his shenanigans in the Eric Gordon recruiting wars have changed all that, though. And I like it. I want to see Johnny Cougar effigies burning brightly in Champaign and kids burning REO Speedwagon albums in Bloomington. I want to feel threatened the next time I run into Babbs Super Valu in Spencer, Indiana for a loaf of their ridiculously tasty cheese bread while wearing an Illini jersey. I want an all out border war.
And while I started looking forward to rowdy crowds at the Assembly Halls for the next few years, I also started looking forward to what the Illini’s prospects are for next season. I am, to say the least, cautiously optimistic:
For ’07-’08, there is the simple case of addition by subtraction, and that subtraction of course comes in the form of Marcus Arnold and Dick McBride. McBride, after a stellar high school career at Springfield Lanphier, has gone on to have one of the most underwhelming collegiate careers I can remember. I really thought he could develop into a potential NBA caliber three point specialist, but I guess the fact that he is actually a 47 year old accountant from Dallas finally caught up with him. And Marcus Arnold may very well be the nicest guy on the planet, but he is simply a really, really bad basketball player (although, he does love him some Red Lobster!).
The only other senior, The Enigma That Is Warren Carter, needs to start saying nightly prayers to Serge Zwicker, the patron saint of inexplicably long eligibility terms. If Marcus Sommerville was allowed to play college ball for 17 years, I don’t see why “The- Double-You-Sea” can’t get a fifth frame.
Meanwhile, the following are for sure (barring any ill-advised early NBA jumps or beer pong related altercations) returning to the fold:
Shaun Pruitt, who is quickly turning into an absolute beast (the development that Weber’s coaching staff has done on Pruitt is worth noting and, in my opinion, is nothing short of amazing – I’m pretty sure that they lock him in a room with Wayne McClain, tape his eyes open, and make him watch Marcus Griffin highlights for twelve hours a day, seven days a week) and in next year’s (hopefully) Greg Oden-less Big Ten, could be the conference’s premiere post player.
Dee Brown v2.0, otherwise known as Chester Frazier, the scrappiest point guard to ever scrap, will be back and will probably continue to get weird injuries and gut his way through them once again.
Jamar Smith, who really has nowhere to go but up next season. He’s not just personifying the term “Sophomore Slump” this year, he’s defining it to the point that they may change the term to “The Jamar Smith Effect.”
Brian Randle will be back and gunning to foul out of every game he enters, often within his first six minutes of action. Then he’ll get hurt. A few weeks later, he’ll have a sweet dunk, but he’ll hurt himself and get called for a charge. Then he'll get called for a foul while on his way to the hospital.
Chris Hicks will be back for another year of people asking “What the devil is a Chris Hicks?” when they look at their programs.
The Brian Cardwell Experience, all 280 or so pounds and 9’2” standing reach of it, will be back and filling up the lane like never before.
Plus, incoming freshmen:
Quinton Watkins, who is from Compton, CA, and if every NWA song is to be believed as truth (and they are), must be a bad ass.
Westchester St. Joseph’s PG Demetri McCamey, who, if history has taught us anything (and it hasn’t) is either the next Isiah Thomas or the next Arthur Agee.
And Bill Cole, who if I was forced at gunpoint to describe his game I would say: “Brian Cook Light.”
So, yeah, now that I look at it on paper, with the exception of a possibly dominant Pruitt and a resurgent Smith, maybe I shouldn’t be looking forward (cautiously or otherwise) to next year all that much.
Whatever, as long as they beat Mizzou, it’s cool. (Oh, and Indiana. Gotta get used to that one.)
Sure, it would have been nice for the Illini to have gotten that “signature win” of theirs against either Wisconsin or Ohio State, but let’s face it, those two squads are leaps and bounds more talented than the boys in orange (how the hell did Wisconsin get so good in one year? Didn’t they lose to North Dakota State at home this time last year? That’s an impressive turn around to say the least). But they beat a ranked team and if they manage to finish out conference play at .500, they should sneak into the NCAA at somewhere around an 11 seed; playing with no pressure and, with a good draw, they might get to play Vassar or whoever knocks Kansas out of the tourney in the first round this year and sneak into the Sweet Sixteen. (Of course, this is a best case scenario; there is always the distinct possibility that they lose out and are NIT bound.)
And it’s not just that they beat a ranked team; they beat a newly venomous conference rival. The Illini have never really had an intra-conference rivalry – during the run of awesomeness of the last seven years, pretty much every other school has hated the Illini an equal amount – besides Mizzou there isn’t a school which year after year the fan base passionately wants to beat. One could make the case for a handful of schools (Michigan State, Wisconsin) that one despises for any particular reason (I personally still hate Ohio State for ruining the unbeaten season of ’04-’05), but there wasn’t a school which really made the blood boil for the entire state.
Kelvin Sampson and his shenanigans in the Eric Gordon recruiting wars have changed all that, though. And I like it. I want to see Johnny Cougar effigies burning brightly in Champaign and kids burning REO Speedwagon albums in Bloomington. I want to feel threatened the next time I run into Babbs Super Valu in Spencer, Indiana for a loaf of their ridiculously tasty cheese bread while wearing an Illini jersey. I want an all out border war.
And while I started looking forward to rowdy crowds at the Assembly Halls for the next few years, I also started looking forward to what the Illini’s prospects are for next season. I am, to say the least, cautiously optimistic:
For ’07-’08, there is the simple case of addition by subtraction, and that subtraction of course comes in the form of Marcus Arnold and Dick McBride. McBride, after a stellar high school career at Springfield Lanphier, has gone on to have one of the most underwhelming collegiate careers I can remember. I really thought he could develop into a potential NBA caliber three point specialist, but I guess the fact that he is actually a 47 year old accountant from Dallas finally caught up with him. And Marcus Arnold may very well be the nicest guy on the planet, but he is simply a really, really bad basketball player (although, he does love him some Red Lobster!).
The only other senior, The Enigma That Is Warren Carter, needs to start saying nightly prayers to Serge Zwicker, the patron saint of inexplicably long eligibility terms. If Marcus Sommerville was allowed to play college ball for 17 years, I don’t see why “The- Double-You-Sea” can’t get a fifth frame.
Meanwhile, the following are for sure (barring any ill-advised early NBA jumps or beer pong related altercations) returning to the fold:
Shaun Pruitt, who is quickly turning into an absolute beast (the development that Weber’s coaching staff has done on Pruitt is worth noting and, in my opinion, is nothing short of amazing – I’m pretty sure that they lock him in a room with Wayne McClain, tape his eyes open, and make him watch Marcus Griffin highlights for twelve hours a day, seven days a week) and in next year’s (hopefully) Greg Oden-less Big Ten, could be the conference’s premiere post player.
Dee Brown v2.0, otherwise known as Chester Frazier, the scrappiest point guard to ever scrap, will be back and will probably continue to get weird injuries and gut his way through them once again.
Jamar Smith, who really has nowhere to go but up next season. He’s not just personifying the term “Sophomore Slump” this year, he’s defining it to the point that they may change the term to “The Jamar Smith Effect.”
Brian Randle will be back and gunning to foul out of every game he enters, often within his first six minutes of action. Then he’ll get hurt. A few weeks later, he’ll have a sweet dunk, but he’ll hurt himself and get called for a charge. Then he'll get called for a foul while on his way to the hospital.
Chris Hicks will be back for another year of people asking “What the devil is a Chris Hicks?” when they look at their programs.
The Brian Cardwell Experience, all 280 or so pounds and 9’2” standing reach of it, will be back and filling up the lane like never before.
Plus, incoming freshmen:
Quinton Watkins, who is from Compton, CA, and if every NWA song is to be believed as truth (and they are), must be a bad ass.
Westchester St. Joseph’s PG Demetri McCamey, who, if history has taught us anything (and it hasn’t) is either the next Isiah Thomas or the next Arthur Agee.
And Bill Cole, who if I was forced at gunpoint to describe his game I would say: “Brian Cook Light.”
So, yeah, now that I look at it on paper, with the exception of a possibly dominant Pruitt and a resurgent Smith, maybe I shouldn’t be looking forward (cautiously or otherwise) to next year all that much.
Whatever, as long as they beat Mizzou, it’s cool. (Oh, and Indiana. Gotta get used to that one.)
Labels: ILL-INI, Sports Sports Sports Sports Sports Sports Sports
12/20/2006
Braggin' Rights, Lessons Learned
1) Shaun Pruitt = Manbeast
2) Magnet:Metal :: Brian Randle:Foul trouble
3) After seeing my first ever Rights game in person, as God is my witness, I will never watch this game on TV again. Just a tremendous all around environment. I obviously forgot how much better basketball is in person -- What an event. Top times.
4) Keep on Braggin', Illinois boys: WE GOT RIGHTS!
Labels: ILL-INI
12/19/2006
Busch Braggin' Rights: The Most Wonderful Night of the Year
For some, Christmas means sharing a meal with some loved ones, giving gifts, and sitting around the hearth (whatever the hell that is).
For me, Christmas means Busch heavy gold tops, orange tees, and profanities. Busch Braggin’ Rights, baby. The Tuesday before Christmas, like clockwork, allows the rednecks from Illinois and Missouri to get blackout drunk and cheer their respective asses off, rooting for a school which they more than likely did not go to. It is, without a doubt, my favorite day of the holiday season. It’s the most wonderful night of the year.
And while there may be a little bit of hyperbole and delusions of grandeur in that last paragraph, it is mostly true. A lot of my favorite holiday memories have come from the Braggin’ Rights game, whether it was in 2002 when bad travel planning on my part had me not flying home until two days after the Rights, and I spent one of the most exciting contests in this storied rivalry’s history in North Carolina, drinking heavily and alternatively yelling at myself and into my cell; or watching my buddy Joe stand up on the bar and demand a round of Busch for everyone watching the game at Donnelly’s in 2003 (in hindsight, I’m not even sure if they serve Busch at Donnelly’s). Sure, they’re not “traditional” or “healthy” holiday memories, but they’re there and I treasure them as my own.
And we’re all set for another round of memories to be made tonight. The Rights game is finally here.
After last years 32 point Illini thrashing, we may even have a contest this year. Most of the talent from Illinois’ 2004-05 monster squad is gone (although Dick McBride and Warren Carter, in what must respectively be their 9th and 12th years of eligibility, are inexplicably still on the team); and while I wouldn’t classify Mizzou as being “good,” they are definitely better under Mike Anderson than they were last year under Quin Snyder (less coked up, too).
While I most certainly miss watching players as talented as Deron Williams, Dee Brown, Luther Head, James Augustine, and Roger Powell, following this years Illini squad is enjoyable simply because the guys on the court all remind me of Illini players of old:
Shaun Pruitt, Marcus Griffin. Chester Frazier, Dee Brown. Jamar Smith, Sean Harrington. Warren Carter, Lucas Johnson (not really. I just wanted to mention Lucas Johnson. I miss that guy.) Marcus Arnold, Victor Chukwudebe. Brian Randle, Damir Krupalija (again, not really. Krupalija is just fun to say.) Thankfully, there isn't a Nick Smith in the bunch, but to be honest, I could use a Robert Archibald. Gigantic Scotts are always fun.
Sure, this years Illini squad isn’t as “good” as some years past, but some times the teams without all the talent in the world are just as fun to follow, if only for the ability to name said ham-and-eggers years later in drunken bar room arguments.
So the Illini aren’t quite up to par and Anderson’s “40 minutes ofhell heck” has the Mizzou faithful rejuvenated in matters basketball related. If the Tigers can turn up the heat and force some turnovers (and from what I’ve seen so far this year, a 7th grade team could force the Illini into about 20 turnovers. Sloppy!), we’re all set for a barn burner. In fact, if I was a betting man (and I am), I would actually put my money on Mizzou to beat the 4 ½ point spread.
Now, I’m not saying that Mizzou will win their first Right game in (literally) this millennium, but it should be close. In the end, I would like three things to happen: Bruce Weber to get his 100th win with Illinois, to not get punched in the face by a Mizzou fan, and to get rip roaring drunk.
After all, that’s what Braggin’ Rights are all about.
[It should be noted that I will be attending my first ever Rights game this year with noted Mizzou apologist and good time JonesRoommate Neighbor Matt. Since the winning percentage of the teams I root for is flat out terrible [/Bill Walton] when I am in attendence, I hope to generate some good Karma for the Illini to counteract my own unluckiness by drinking all the Busch beers in the world. Wish me luck.]
For me, Christmas means Busch heavy gold tops, orange tees, and profanities. Busch Braggin’ Rights, baby. The Tuesday before Christmas, like clockwork, allows the rednecks from Illinois and Missouri to get blackout drunk and cheer their respective asses off, rooting for a school which they more than likely did not go to. It is, without a doubt, my favorite day of the holiday season. It’s the most wonderful night of the year.
And while there may be a little bit of hyperbole and delusions of grandeur in that last paragraph, it is mostly true. A lot of my favorite holiday memories have come from the Braggin’ Rights game, whether it was in 2002 when bad travel planning on my part had me not flying home until two days after the Rights, and I spent one of the most exciting contests in this storied rivalry’s history in North Carolina, drinking heavily and alternatively yelling at myself and into my cell; or watching my buddy Joe stand up on the bar and demand a round of Busch for everyone watching the game at Donnelly’s in 2003 (in hindsight, I’m not even sure if they serve Busch at Donnelly’s). Sure, they’re not “traditional” or “healthy” holiday memories, but they’re there and I treasure them as my own.
And we’re all set for another round of memories to be made tonight. The Rights game is finally here.
After last years 32 point Illini thrashing, we may even have a contest this year. Most of the talent from Illinois’ 2004-05 monster squad is gone (although Dick McBride and Warren Carter, in what must respectively be their 9th and 12th years of eligibility, are inexplicably still on the team); and while I wouldn’t classify Mizzou as being “good,” they are definitely better under Mike Anderson than they were last year under Quin Snyder (less coked up, too).
While I most certainly miss watching players as talented as Deron Williams, Dee Brown, Luther Head, James Augustine, and Roger Powell, following this years Illini squad is enjoyable simply because the guys on the court all remind me of Illini players of old:
Shaun Pruitt, Marcus Griffin. Chester Frazier, Dee Brown. Jamar Smith, Sean Harrington. Warren Carter, Lucas Johnson (not really. I just wanted to mention Lucas Johnson. I miss that guy.) Marcus Arnold, Victor Chukwudebe. Brian Randle, Damir Krupalija (again, not really. Krupalija is just fun to say.) Thankfully, there isn't a Nick Smith in the bunch, but to be honest, I could use a Robert Archibald. Gigantic Scotts are always fun.
Sure, this years Illini squad isn’t as “good” as some years past, but some times the teams without all the talent in the world are just as fun to follow, if only for the ability to name said ham-and-eggers years later in drunken bar room arguments.
So the Illini aren’t quite up to par and Anderson’s “40 minutes of
Now, I’m not saying that Mizzou will win their first Right game in (literally) this millennium, but it should be close. In the end, I would like three things to happen: Bruce Weber to get his 100th win with Illinois, to not get punched in the face by a Mizzou fan, and to get rip roaring drunk.
After all, that’s what Braggin’ Rights are all about.
[It should be noted that I will be attending my first ever Rights game this year with noted Mizzou apologist and good time Jones
Labels: ILL-INI
1/31/2006
19-2
Last October, sometime after Game 6 of the NLCS, right after my baseball high had crashed back down to earth (Damn you, Roy Oswalt!), I began to look forward to the upcoming College Basketball season. Actually, I looked forward to it until I remembered that the Illini squad had lost Deron Williams, Luther Head, Roger Powell, and Jack Ingram. Those subtractions to the Illini did not make me happy (Nick Smith finally leaving, on the other hand, made me ecstatic.)Before the season began, I said I'll be happy if Illinois wins 20 games. And I will be damn impressed if they win 25 and make the Sweet 16.
But for the 972nd time this year, I am reminded why I don't bet too heavily on sports: Because I apparently have no fucking clue what I'm talking about.
Going into tonight's game, the Illini are 19 and 2. Nineteen and two. From a team that I (and I wasn't alone on this, either) did not honestly think would break 25 wins. Bruce Weber... Damn, that man can coach.
Tonight, the Illini go for sole possession of first place in the Big Ten as they face off against the Badgers of Wisconsin in Madison. The Kohl center was formerly one of the more intimidating places for a team to play at (but not for an 18-year old to see a Phish concert in.) That, of course, was before last January when the Fighting Illini rolled into Madison and beat the Badgers on their own floor, snapping their 38-game home winning streak in the process.
Lately, The Grateful Red has been a little less boisterous and the Badgers have been much less than their formerly unbeatable selves at home, as evidenced by a loss recently to the Bisons of North Dakota State.
[side bar - One of my favorite moments of my recent trip to Mexico was sitting pool side on Sunday afternoon, reading the sports section of the Miami Herald (which for some reason is the paper of record in Mexico) when I came across the college scores and needed to relay the news to Lionel Hutz, Illini alum and fanatic, who was sitting across the pool from me.
Me: "Hey! Wisconsin lost...At Home!"
Hutz: "To who?"
Me: "North Dakota Fucking State!"
Some Drunk Redneck Woman from West Virginia Who Was Sitting In The Pool Drinking: "Wha!?! North Dakota State? Big Ten sucks."]
So tonight, at 6 pm, I'll have the TV tuned to ESPN, as I watch the Illini try to advance to 6-2 in conference play and gain sole possession of the conference lead.
I suggest you do the same (unless, of course, the Illini wears orange and Wisconsin wears red; something which happened not too long ago and caused me to get a motion-sick like feeling while watching the game. If that happens again, you should just catch the highlights on Sportscenter or something.)
[Today's Illini fun factoid: Since leaving Illinois prior to the 2003-04 season for a more prestigious school, Bill Self has gone 61-22 while coaching the Kansas Jayhawks. Bruce Weber, during the same time span at Illinois, has gone 82-11. Also, Bruce Weber is not a huge douche. Bill Self is.]
Labels: ILL-INI
