Inside Scoop

10 years ago this week.

My friend made the mistake of having a party (I believe this was a Friday night) for the game and he invited me over. I have gotten better over the years, but I used to be just the most miserable fuck to watch games with. I was like some combination of Hogie & UGW - just an untolerable person to be around - and that was just in normal life! During Maryland games? Oh forget it.

So anyway, my friend invites a bunch of us over for the game, but there's only like three of us who were really invested. The rest were there for girls or the pizza. Idiots. So everyone remembers the game and how uneven it was, and how Brent fuckin Blizzard couldn't miss a god damn shot. I was so heated, and my frustration kept boiling and boiling. I went through the "stern face where I don't say anything" to "slowly mutter words under my breath" to "loudly cursing the existence of Gary Williams" in like 30 minutes. Mark Turgeon would NOT approve of his children hanging out with me that day.

Anyway, with like 3 minutes left in the game, I got so pissed that I turned off the tv, slammed the remote against the wall and stormed upstairs. The other people I was watching the game looked at me, and then back at the remote (now separated into 1,000 pieces) and then back at me. I could tell they were pissed at me, but at the same time didn't want to engage the beast, so they didn't say anything and just gave me the death stare on my way out. I also got a lot of 'wtf' looks from people who were there to socialize and who didn't understand, but fuck those people.

So I get upstairs and I'm about to leave when I notice that in my friend's living room they have a MONSTER TV (60 inches?) and no one is around. Parents are gone. Whole house is quiet except the party in the basement. So I decide, wtf, let me see what the final was before I drive off a cliff. Turn it on to see it happen live.

Chaos ensues.

I hump the TV. I dance around the room. I throw so many fist pumps it must've looked like I was in a fight with invisible Mike Tyson. Then I wait. I know what's coming. The ultimate dagger. He would make the shot only for it not to count. No way he got it off in time. No way. F you God, you're not getting me to fall for this shit, I'm on to your game.

It's good. AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAANARCHY

I run downstairs screaming, saying something like "I TOLD YOU MOTHERFUCKERS, I TOLD YOU!" AND "WHERE ARE YOU NOW BITCH BLIZZARD?!" I was certified insane. The people that were interested in the game didn't believe me until I dragged them upstairs. Then they hated me for making them miss it live - but then got so wrapped up in the moment that they got over it.

I remember nothing else about that night, except knowing we were going to thrash Xavier on Sunday.

Where were you?

(Oh, one more thing: the 45ft three that he hits at the 1:30 mark in the video below is one of the most underrated clutch shots ever. Why isn't there a name for shots like that, the thing that prempts the dagger or makes the dagger possible?)