A little march madness

How do you spell upset? B-U-F-F-A-L-O. Second only to New York City in population, the Don Swayze of the Empire State, if you will. Like a stampeding herd of sun-stroked large prairie mammals, this blue collar town ran rough shot over the hopes and dreams of a couple NCAA teams and their faithfuls. for the first two rounds of the tournament, this city had the nation’s attention. A truly American traditional, American as apple pie, capitalism and offshore outsourcing. The Road to the Final Four had a pit stop in Buffalo, New York, where four plucky Canadians were on hand to witness two heart-pounding second round matches. Feel the madness, be the madness.

On the morn of March 17, under a light dust of snow, four groggy Spartans set out to war. Did someone say 24 hour roadtrip?! Each warrior kissed their kin and left the comforts of home to embark towards the battlefield. Mind you, the battlefield was exotic downtown Buffalo, and the foursome will only act as observers and the maximum energy exertion would consist of fighting off other urinal users during halftime. But make no mistake blood will be shed and lives are at stake.

With courage in our hearts, Tim Horton’s in our guts, and passports on our persons, the party of four rolled out onto to 401 (the King’s Highway) on a collision course with Buffalo (the Queen City). As if it was written in the stars, it seems Destiny had Google-mapped this course. Time of impact, 2:30 pm. Two hours before the first tip-off, enough time to acquaint ourselves with our surroundings, find the seats we paid for, and subsequently find better available seats that we can squat and occupy. Unrelenting in our determination, we ebbed closer and closer, battling a late blast from Old Man Winter. Not even the siren call of an outlet mall en route could divert us from our path.

Once the destination was reached, the electricity in the air was palatable. Our chariot was filled with the giddy laughter not unlike that of high-school girls. Today, Mecca was the HSBC Center, home of the Buffalo Sabres. I had always considered myself a sports fans, and an even greater basketball fan. But our American counterparts put us to shame. Like everything else in the U.S. of A., they go big. Man, woman, child, nanna, all of them breathed college hoops. This love affair was a family heirloom passed between the generations. This was proven by the three generations of Pittsburgh fans cheering in front of us. Grandmother, mother and child. The entire clan was dressed in their full war attire, replete with ‘Pitt’ sweater, hats, scarves and foam fingers.

When the dust clouds settled, we finally finagled our seats (after being politely asked twice to vacate our current position by the rightful owners). Game one of the double-header involved (No.4) Maryland vs. (No.5) Butler. A close affair, the two teams were neck and neck throughout the game. The Butler Bulldogs eeked out a 62 - 59 victory over the Maryland Terrapins. A mild upset in the tournament, but a big win for such a small school. You got to love seeing the little guys come out on top. Good game, a perfect prelude for the main event. Today our bladders will be tested.

This was the second day of the 64 team tournament, and thus far only one major upset occurred. VCU ranked 11 beat Number 6 Duke. For college hoop fans, there’s 2 camps…you either love or hate Duke. We all fall into the latter category. And everyone loves an underdog. We were here to witness VCU try to extend its Cinderella story against Pittsburgh. Us, players in this modern athletic storybook tale. Rams versus Panthers. After a brief intermission, the game we drove 7 hours for was set to commence. Luckily we were in the predominant VCU section, but unfortunately Pitt took an early lead and held it for a majority of the game. The faithfuls were losing faith, so four foreigners from up north had to rally the forces. We clapped, we cheered, we hissed at the refs, one of us took a cat-nap in anticipation for the post-game drive home — we use everything in our fan arsenal. Although we can’t take all the credit, with 10 minutes left in the game, the Rams seem rejuvenated by our enthusiasm and mounted a counter attack. They fought back from a 19-point deficit, a ungodly sum of points. Their comeback culminated into a tied game! Holy. Shit. Ladies and gentlemen, we have overtime. Overtime games during March Madness, are akin to an albino baby Koala bear — rare, to be pulled close to the heart and cherished forever.

We high-fived and hug complete strangers, but the warm-fuzzies didn’t last long. Quickly into the overtime, Pittsburgh regained the lead, and the kids of VCU ran out of steam. Panthers 84 – Rams 79, make it a final. There were tears abound, from players, band members and fans alike. I am man enough to admit that my lower lip did a quiver or two. Those scrappy kids from Virginia Commonwealth did themselves proud and in the process gained four big kids from Canada as lifelong fans. You will always have a special place in our hearts.

Battle-weary, hungry and little heart-broken, we started our trip home. Total travel time was 14 hours for 6 heart pounding hours of vitality. Say what you will about our American cousins, but they sure know how to throw a party. In regards of a billion dollar industry in the guise of amateur athletics, no one does it better. No one.