I'm going for something else, something more visceral and full of bile. I want a triumph that is merciless, a victory achieved by the letting of blood. As Dolph Lundgren once said about the former champ Apollo Creed, "If he dies, he dies." At the end of tonight's game, if Billy Donovan's bunch is weeping on the court, so be it. Matt Howard should come out steely-eyed and say, "I must break you." I want Florida to suffer.
Of course, Drago loses, and the Russkies wind up chanting "Rocky, Rocky," so using the villain from Rocky IV as an examplar is a wee bit flawed.
Indeed, this kind of unchecked hatred from a fan is hardly healthy or helpful. The most rabid and over-zealous fanbases are usually the ones who find themselves suffering at the end of the contest, victims of their own irrational vicarious experience. Think of fans in Philadelphia, only recently finding a salve in the Phillies world series triumph, Boston morons who still claim to be "tahrchared" despite having four of the best franchises in spahrts over the last decade, the Duke fans after Arizona came out and assassinated them on Friday.
The foam-at-the-mouth exuberance of these fans, so perturbing to the rest of us, is also the fuel for schadenfreude when their teams fail. 18-1 in 2007? Helmet catch? Sweet ambrosia to everyone not living in the Upper Northeast.
Likewise, I imagine that harboring such unabated animus for years is probably not healthy for a basketball program. Though many personnel in the Butler program were around for Butler's wrenching losses to Florida in 2000 and 2007, the institutional philosophy of Butler basketball would seem to suggest that using bloodthirsty revenge as motivation to win is not exactly part of the Hinkle tradition. And while my gut tells me that "The Butler Way" is just a little bit prissy and ivory towerish, my brain tells my guts, "Just look at the scoreboard, dumbass."
And truly, I should know better. Because though I grew up watching an endless number of IU games, and the 1987 NCAA championship is still one of the more lasting memories of my childhood, I have seen far more Butler games in person. And over the last decade I have watched and listened to fivefold more Butler games than IU. I loved IU's 1992 & 2002 NCAA runs, tournament runs that ended in heartbreak of their own, but Butler's two losses to Florida were even more anguishing. Those losses, the first on a last second shot by Mike Miller, the second in a game defined by the referees' refusal to call a foul on the Florida big men, left a taste in my mouth that was even more acrid and full of lasting bitterness than last year's Duke game. At least in the Duke game, Butler had a chance. They were inches away from winning on a last-second prayer; they didn't get jobbed by the refs or stomach-punched by lady luck like in the Florida games.
Despite real or perceived imbalances in officiating and weighted scales of fate, Butler trudged on, racking up wins, playing full-throttle defense, and doing it despite lacking the bloated coffers of BCS schools. And the progress of the Butler program has not been predicated on quick-fixes or pandering to fans and alumni with glamorous recruits.
Instead, it has been achieved by hiring people and coaches who are exceptional basketball strategists, able to create situations that allow good players to achieve great things. "The Butler Way," however dorky and corporate-sales-goal-oriented it may sound, works. It gets players to know and understand their roles and to value team success above all. A.J. Graves and Mike Green graduated and took with them a wealth of experience and a truckload of moxy. Butler just got better. They lost Gordon Hayward to the down-side of high achievement. Still, they continued to win. Without bluster, without spouting the bullshit platitudes of athletes worldwide-- "Nobody believed in us," "We just wanted it more"-- and the other mindless palaver that issues from the mouths of big-time sports stars.
So I will find moderation in my anger. I will not hate. I will cheer for Butler's success and that alone. The opponent does not matter. The only thing I will think of is my hope that the team from down the street gets to play next weekend. In the end, the scoreboard will be the ultimate arbiter and none of my rancor and enmity will do the slightest bit of good...
Al Horford though, and pardon my French, he can fuck off.
Butler v. Florida 2007 - Horford "backs down" Crone.
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