It has been two weeks since my trip to San Antonio for the 2008 Final Four and I feel I am now ready to go public with my thoughts. First of all, I have to acknowledge Greg, Derek, and Francis that joined me for a memorable weekend adventure that was filled with more good times and bad times than I can remember. Despite the unfortunate game results, upon reflection this was a fantastic weekend during a time in life where such “old boy” or “bro” weekends have become few and far between.
Now my reflections…I don’t think I have been filled with as much nervous excitement as I was on the trip to Texas two weeks ago. (It must be noted that I attended UCLA’s last title run in 1995, so the idea of actually going to the Final Four was not overwhelming in itself. Also, this happened while I was a college student during the 1990s where I think grunge music and high levels of THC coursing through my body numbed me from the most natural of human emotion— outward excitement.) My trip took two legs, Oakland to Phoenix; Phoenix to Austin. The Phoenix airport was a sight to behold for Bruin Nation. I texted a few people back home with the note, “PHX airport is like Westwood Southwest.” It was unbelievable. Powder blue and gold everywhere you look. The airport bar was electric with energy, chatter about game tickets being overhead, tales of Final Fours past exchanged, and of course the prospects of the Bruins hanging championship #12 in Pauley Pavilion being discussed (writing those words still fills me with disappointment and sadness. I guess I’m not over it.).
Fast forward to Saturday morning in San Antonio. After exchanging the Michael Scott-edition Chrysler LeBaron convertible for a more suitable rental ride, we made the one-hour trek from Austin to San Antonio, drove past the AlamoDome and the whole experience became very real. We had about two hours before tip-off and went to some pre-party that included free chicken wings, nachos, and tamales. Perhaps the first disappointment of the weekend occurred shortly thereafter. Suffice it to say, we were already a few beers in, but we realized that each school was having special parties and that we were basically hanging in the stable of the masses. Of course, we immediately tried to sneak in to the UCLA party to hang with fellow Bruins before the game for some much-needed pre-game hype. Not to be too self-serving, but I had no problem getting past the first layer of security, and Greg and I easily slid past the second checkpoint without problem. Entering the “exclusive” party space was similar to the scene in the Wizard of Oz when Dorothy’s house lands after the tornado and she opens the door to reveal the Technicolor world of Munchkin land. Upon passing the security area, I was treated to visions of UCLA cheerleaders cavorting about, former UCLA football coach Terry Donahue chatting up some alums, beer and wine stations appearing in all corners of the room, food everywhere, and Tim Robbins cruising by. It was awesome. All I could say to Greg was, “this is more like it.”
In what can only be described as the ultimate foreshadowing of things to come, we were shortly tapped on the shoulder by a rent-a-cop asking to see our party passes. Unfotunately, one member of our quartet did not heed the ultimate mantra of acting like you belong there, got shaken down by security, and in an egregious error in party crashing dogma, wound up getting all of us kicked out by pinpointing us to security. Unbelievable. Until my last days on this Earth, I will always believe that had we remained at the party, the world would have been rotating normally and the Bruins would have emerged triumphant. Alas, it was not to be. To make matters worse, as we are going down the escalator feeling like chumps, we peer over to the adjacent escalator going up and see Ed O’Bannon, the 1995 tournament’s winner of the Most Outstanding Player award and the greatest UCLA player of our lives, heading to the party. Ugh.
(The whole of San Antonio was a basketball fan’s dream that weekend. Along with the obvious undercurrent of the games, tons of familiar basketball characters were milling around town. Throughout the weekend, we saw Hakeem Olajuwon, Rick Pitino, Lorenzo Romar, David Robinson (sitting 4 rows in front of us), Rex Walters, Scot Pollard, Tony Parker, Seth Greenberg, Pat Riley, Patrick Ewing, and Artis Gilmore. The scene was definitely set for some classic basketball.)
Then the game started. I prefer not to get too much into the details of the game itself since we got rolled over in the second half, but in brief— we could not hit an outside shot to save our life, our “All-American” point guard did nothing, and Memphis’ Derrick Rose and Chris Douglas-Roberts continually beat us off the dribble and scored tons of buckets. Painful to even reminisce. There was a 30-45 minute silent period following the loss where none of us uttered anything to one another. The combination of inebriated stupor, disappointment, and exhaustion from intensely rooting on the squad left me physically and mentally drained and I just stared off into space like I was back in high school physics class.
So that was it. The weekend for all intents and purposes was over. Even though we had a mellow Sunday and enjoyed a great national championship on Monday, the perfect weekend was over before it started. The curtain was pulled back and Oz did not turn out the way we imagined it to be.
With 30 years of fanatic experience in watching sports, I cannot remember a team that appeared as tailor-made for a championship run than the 2007-08 UCLA Bruins. This was their third straight Final Four, so the San Antonio experience would not be overwhelming for the coaching staff and squad. They earned a #1 seed in the West Region for the first time since the 1995 championship team. A couple of close, last second victories (with or without the help of some questionable refereeing) appeared to make them destiny’s choice to be champion. But one element that comes to mind whenever I reflect on this team will always be the presence of the Golden Child, freshman center Kevin Love. The impact this kid had on the team was unlike anything I had ever seen at UCLA and was very rare in the world of college basketball. All of the ESPN talking heads and journalists would gush about Love’s game and the platitudes were never over-stated. This guy was amazing. I could talk about his game and what he meant to this team for days but in brief, I and a majority of the Bruin faithful felt that there was no way we would lose this year with Kevin Love leading the way. Unfortunately, the magic simply ran out against Memphis and the wait continues for the 12th banner to be raised.
This brings me to the trip’s silver lining though. Anyone who reads this entry knows exactly where UCLA fandom resides on my priority lists of hobbies outside of grown-up life responsibilities. The weekend was meant to be a culmination of every reason why I am a faithful supporter of my alma mater and, similar to most things built up with anticipation (read: New Year’s Eve, movie blockbusters, network television), I was left disappointed. While we continued to have a good time throughout the weekend, the underlying current of disappointment could not be ignored. Now that I am about two weeks distanced from the Final Four weekend, I have a much better perspective on things.
In retrospect, the old adage from Arthur Ashe (UCLA alum) now rings especially true— “Success is a journey, not a destination. The doing is often more important than the outcome.” The UCLA basketball program is perhaps the most cohesive fabric of my college experience, and continues to bring all of my close college friends together. When my buddy Rich and I discussed getting tickets for the early round tournament games in Anaheim, we knew to just buy the maximum allotment of eight, since we would have no problem finding takers. We all love Bruin basketball.
The Final Four weekend thus held a specific “once in a lifetime” feel and the four of us were able to enjoy great moments that only being friends for over 15 years can provide. This coupled with the barrage of calls and text messages from pals back in Cali wanting to catch some of the flavor of the event made the moment feel all the more special. Derek, who is married and has a daughter, acknowledged this point specifically. The opportunities for us all to get together like this have become more rare as the years quickly pass on. Families are growing, responsibilities are increasing, and free time is shrinking at an alarming rate. Maybe once or twice a year, all of the college mates get together, making this weekend even more unique.
It was clear that every college friend near a television was watching the UCLA-Memphis and cringing and cheering and hoping just like the four of us were inside the AlamoDome that afternoon. Looking back, there is still no place I would have rather seen the disappointing loss than with my buddies watching the game live. To me, it felt like the four of us were representing all of our great friends by being there live (thanks of course to Greg for securing the tickets). As I reflect back, the emotional ups and downs took a toll on us, but left me with a ton of memories and the hope that having these weekend trips with the guys will continue until we are pushing canes at the old folks home. That is the appropriate memory I hope to keep in the front of my mind whenever I recall the 2008 Final Four. Well, that and if James Keefe’s second half baseline 3-pointer goes in, instead of rattling out, we would have had a whole different ball game.
