Team, team, team. Feel the love. Hear Flowers signing the Bud Song, the jolly polka that ends with "When you Say Wisss-consin, You've Said it All!" with three minutes left and a 19 point lead. Witness how everyone accepts what they have to do (or don't get to do) on any particular night. Watch Krabbenhoft and Landry gamely guard the number one pick in the NBA draft, like a 7th grader trying to guard his 17-year old older brother. Recognize how heady this team is. Realize that the threes were being shot in the first half because the K-State guards were going under screens instead of chasing the ball-handler over them, thus strategy dictated to fire away. And that, conversely, Hughes scored repeatedly on drives in the second half because strategy said so-- K-State had changed tactics, seeking to take away the jumpers. Marvel at senior Greg Stiemsma, with all that fans know he's been through, from a torn ACL to depression turning him into a recluse, getting the best of the Big 12 player of the year, not just once, but over and over. What a spectacle for a Badger fan.
Live in the now, cherish the moment. This team is something special, but if you're reading this, you already knew that. An unprecedented Big Ten double championship, a school record 31st victory, two consecutive 30-win seasons (only the third time in Big Ten history that has ever been accomplished by any school)-- all these things make it pretty obvious. It could end as soon as Friday night against an excellent Georgetown team or an upstart Davidson College team. If not then, it may likely conclude against the Kansas Jayhawks, the best team in college basketball. So lets savor this. Savor the comraderie, Flowers' singing, Krabbenhoft tearing up when discussing Stiemsma's performance, Landry's and Butch's and Krabbenhoft's heroic and selfless defense, the wise and dedicated form of basketball we've gotten to watch this season.
If you need a play to remember, to sum it up, how about this? Flowers' drives in the second half after realizing the K-State guards were playing him for the jump shot, gets to the lane, draws help and dishes, hitting Butch on the hands. But Brian loses it, the ball bats around crazily, then Michael, hustling still, grabs it for a one hand push pass as he's lurching out of bounds. Shoving it right to Pop Hughes, the young man that the divining rod pointed to last night, standing alone on the left wing. Three pointer in rhythm, swish. Undeniably flawed, but beautiful, as are the best things in this world.