Phew. I have recovered from the near heart attack I had during the last two minutes of regulation time, but am still kind of stunned. Go Jayhawks!

photo courtesy of Lawrence Journal World, by Nick Krug

Our Super Mario, best player ever. Isn’t he just cute as a button? And he’s from Alaska, to boot!

photo courtesy of lawrence.com, by Ailecia Ruscin

The drunken horde sufficiently recovered from Saturday’s festivities to rush downtown once again. More fireworks, more drunken buffoonery, and more boobs. Unfortunately I didn’t see any naked people fall off cars this time.

I fully admit I am a fair-weather fan, and really just start to pay attention to basketball during the tournament season. It is, for me, as much of a sociological phenomenon as anything else. And I can’t really see myself following NBA games, or any other sport really (like football, for instance: I don’t care how well we do, I can’t get excited about watching people alternately play for two seconds and then huddle for ten minutes).

But dammit, when a college basketball game is good, it can be the most spectacular drama, and I find myself jumping up and down, and hooting and hollering with the rest of them. Rock Chalk!

(Having said that, I don’t ever see myself getting behind things like this. I just can’t take that level of cheese.)