NCAA basketball returns to its essence

I. Anticipation

The 2010 men's NCAA basketball tournament opened amid persistent rumors of further expansion beyond its current 65-team format, which leavened much discussion of the relative power of different conferences, more scrutiny of what it means to be a "mid-major." What is the balance of power within the recognized powerhouse conferences like the Big East, Big Ten, Big Twelve, Pac Ten, ACC and SEC, and does it matter any more when the tourney actually begins? And how has the National Basketball Association's new requirement of one year of college ball affected the game that long ago became not only a business but a farm system for the NBA?

With traditional powers like Connecticut, North Carolina, UCLA and Arizona failing even to qualify for tourney berths, a greater degree of parity than ever seemed to prevail, and Cornell further broadened the discussion by bringing the Ivies into it, with its stunning upsets of Temple and Wisconsin, although ardent season-long followers of the Big Red had seen them battle Kansas even for most of the way in December.

All of this jockeying and repositioning suggested a return to the essence of the game of basketball, and the joyous March-April celebration that this year's tournament embodied ended fittingly in a battle not of superstars but of highly disciplined, well-coached teams that played a recognizable form of basketball, unlike many of the unbelievably athletic teams that run on energy, hops and full-court pressure. It was as if time had backed up to just before the awesomely athletic Duke-Connecticut Final in 1999, which had seemed to bid good-bye to the game as many of us knew it.

II. Mike's Way

Having long established himself as a secular religion on the order of John Woodenism, Duke's coach Mike Krzyzewski has come to reap the rewards of a change in his recruiting strategy, designed to win games in an era in which teams composed of the greatest talent face the prospect of having to be constantly reshuffled and re-stockpiled, as players who don't really want to be there defect to the NBA.

For several years now, Krzyzewski has been recruiting players a notch below top-level talent, with an eye toward forming a team that he can keep together for something close to four years. Having been shut out of the Final Four since his decade-culminating third title in 2004, K figured out a different way to get there— without a Grant Hill, or even a Christian Laettner. His new strategy has now paid off handsomely: Duke had been the only #1 seed whose rating was questioned, and yet the only one that reached the Final Four in Indianapolis.

III. Butler: The loyal opposition

Of course, Duke, champion though it became, was only half— or less— of the story on championship night, as K, in a match-up of virtue vs. virtue, faced a youthful-looking 33 year old coaching phenom in Butler's Brad Stevens, who looks so uncannily like his 20-year-old star Gordon Hayward that only their height difference could begin to make me doubt they are in fact brothers.

Just what was going on here? Imagine: Duke as villain. Plus we're talking about guys being brothers in the original sense of the term!

Stevens had quietly guided mid-major Butler, which generally dominates its conference, the Horizon League, to an 88-14 record over his first three years. But he got little or no media attention, which is really what determines which teams are rated most highly. Indeed, it is media coverage for which these teams compete— the same media, we always need to remind ourselves, that genuflect uncritically to the substitution of sentimentality for substance, the packaged image of Coach K over the heart-on-sleeve genuineness of West Virginia's Bob Huggins.

Huggins— overweight, suffering from a bad reputation, and apparently receiving electrolysis before each game (nobody can shave that cleanly!)— had left no doubt about the depth and intensity of the connection—"love," if you prefer— that he shares with his players, almost all of whom were recruited from the New York metropolitan area. The fourth coach in Lucas Oil Stadium was Michigan State's Tom Izzo, marking his sixth Final Four in 12 years, while K, once a regular, hadn't been there since 2001.

IV. Indianapolis: the teams, Lucas Oil Stadium, the games

I have watched every NCAA Men's Final Four since it became regularly televised, but I never seek to go to the actual site. As for Lucas Oil Stadium in Indianapolis: I cannot imagine enjoying a basketball game in a 71,300-seat arena. If I were there, I would probably grab two cool T-shirts and head for the hotel bar.

Of course, the trouble with watching on TV is that you have to sort through the sentimentality and the hype. In the past, media luminaries like Billy Packer, like Al McGuire before him, could be trusted to introduce enough history that you knew you weren't just sitting watching with some guy in a bar, an impression generally conveyed by the genial but often-coasting Billy Raftery. But last year we were without Billy Packer, and this year— with a lot more fanfare— we lost Dick Enberg, a 50-year presence at the Final Four.

Just in his second year of filling Packers' shoes, Clark Kellogg gets a shout out as most Improved Announcer Ever. Wow, has he grown up! From his subtle and intimate game of H-O-R-S-E with President Obama to his intelligent choice of words about coaches and empathic comments about players and judicious and discerning dispensation of criticism, old Special K proved he now belongs with the best.

But back to the action! As they brung it our way:

However much Butler's players may have been portrayed as having sprung full-blown from the soil under Hinkle Field House, Butler started not only home-grown Indiana boys who smile like their preternaturally adorable coach (let's see this kid's ID, please), but also two fast guards from Alabama and Kentucky (Lexington, no less), and brought Alabama transfer Avery Jukes off the bench.

Their Michigan state semi-final opponents were more strictly Midwestern, several from Detroit proper, ideally suited for coach Tom Izzo's football-driven approach to conquering turf. In what seemed the ultimate blue collar Midwestern war, the Spartans initially appeared to dominate. But Butler, with its signature tempo-halting on ball pressure defense, and its baby-faced star Gordon Hayward (who scored ten early points on a variety of long-range rainbow shots and clever drives) playing like a relaxed but shy Larry Bird, miraculously weathered a 6-0 Michigan State start, a stunning six-point run by Izzo's extra-beefy and terrifyingly strong sixth man Draymond Green, early foul trouble, disabling second-half leg cramps that kept its second-best player out most of the second half in, and an overall shooting percentage of just 31%. Ahead by 44-37 with 12 minutes left, Butler missed ten straight shots down the stretch, as its shooting percentage plummeted from a meager 37% to an astonishing-for-a-winner 30%.

In an anti-climactic second game, West Virginia could not match Duke's varied arsenal of weaponry.

V. The final game: When I paint my masterpiece

So there was K again, now facing an even greater icon and sentiment-magnet in Butler's coach Stevens. No previous tourney foe had scored as much as 60 points against Butler, whose victory margins were much smaller than Duke's.

This classic game was always close, but ever seemingly in danger of getting away from Butler, which led by 20-18, only to have Duke post eight straight points. Stevens's time out steadied his charges, and was followed by a 7-0 Butler run, but no time-out by K, whose strategic sense was somewhat baffling throughout. What was he doing having Brian Zoubek deliberately miss his second free throw at the end, almost leading to a Butler victory, had Hayward made that last-second shot?

Butler didn't shoot much better than it had against Michigan State— only 34.5%— and Hayward, Butler's savior earlier on, shot only two for 11, including his last fling. Still, Butler finished just one basket short of a truly amazing win.

That stunning ending left one strangely unsettled. Imagine if Hayward's shot had dropped!

Yet this tourney seemed to provide so many genuinely shining moments that we had a year's worth of images to cherish:

Michigan State's Draymond Green controlling an irate Izzo in the final seconds against Butler, when his coach's time-out call was not instantly recognized and honored by the referees; Huggins of Wes Virginia cradling his fallen star De Sean Butler; Obama and Clark Kellogg locked in a verbal duel.

White kids are back. Team play is back. K marches on, closing another chapter, adding a fourth national championship, right after leading the US Olympic team back to its accustomed position of dominance.

There may be an intriguing new rivalry brewing, though, as Butler has just signed coach Stevens to an astonishing 12-year contract. That's just the amount of time between that 1999 Duke-Connecticut game and Butler-Duke, the time frame I am proposing as marking an era. In twelve years what will a label like "mid-major" mean?

There seems to have been a kind of re-equilibration, as if the game has caught up with itself in the last decade, a reaping and harvesting of seeds and flowers. But one thing is fixed in stone: No matter how many times we watch the replay, Hayward's valiant shot that caught the lip of the rim will never, never drop.