Every day, I wake up to the bleating of my alarm clock. It’s an obnoxious screeching with a faulty snooze button, so even attempts at silencing it end up failing miserably.
Years ago, I had a different alarm clock, nicknamed “The Detonator”. It was set up across from my bed in my mother’s house, and I used it throughout high school and during the summer while I worked at a local cemetery. Unlike the screecher that I employ now, “The Detonator” did exactly what its name implies. At six in the morning, as dawn attempted to crawl through the clouds that perpetually hang over Erie, it would detonate. The sound that emitted from that tiny alarm clock was like someone had jammed an armadillo into a garbage disposal.
It woke me up.
I would imagine that Saturday’s loss to Wagner served a similar purpose for the Robert Morris Colonials. At least, I hope it did.
It is eminently frustrating to not be able to watch a team self-destruct, to stumble, to have to rely on words over the airwaves or incomplete game reports. Chris Shovlin and Jim Duzyk do a tremendous job on the radio, but ultimately, I end up trusting my own eyes. I may be a writer and an avid reader, but I often thought I should study psychology. Body language says it all, and not just the simply slump of the shoulders or the lethargic act of going through the motions.
What this weekend served, if not a wake-up call, was a reminder. On any given night in any given league, the best team can lose and the worst team can win. Davidson’s been losing. We will have yet another new #1 – probably Pittsburgh – because Oklahoma, Connecticut, and North Carolina all lost.
There are 31 conferences (not including Independents) in NCAA D-I basketball. Only Air Force (Mountain West), DePaul (Big East), and Southeast Missouri State (Ohio Valley) are winless in conference play.
So, if I were to address your Colonials right now, here’s what I would say.
Forget the record. Forget who you beat and you didn’t beat. Forget about the NCAA Tournament, forget about seeding and RPI, forget about everything that has happened this season. Look around you. This is a Division I basketball team, the best set of collegiate programs in the country. Only the best high school players play D-I. How many of your teammates in high school aren’t balling in D-I? How many aren’t playing at all anymore? Look around again. You want to play in the NBA? Be a league player? Make some money at the highest stage?
There are 300+ teams in D-I basketball. That is almost 1,500 players. Maybe 60 will play in the NBA next year.
So this is it. Your years in college are what you have to make something out of yourself, as a person, and as an athlete. Your legacy more than likely ends when you take off that Robert Morris uniform for the last time.
You didn’t lose your talent this week. Sacred Heart didn’t open up some invisible wound to let it seep out, and Quinnipiac didn’t gash it open more last Saturday, and Monmouth and Wagner haven’t gutted you like a pile of fish.
You lost your heart. You lost the desire. No matter who you are on this team, the fire burned out. The attention to detail suddenly became a little blurry. The focus went from narrow to wide angle, letting every possible thing in to distract you.
Lucky for you it’s easy to get back the heart and the desire, to retrain yourself to get the focus back. Not so lucky for you is that if it was missing talent, well, you can just call it a day. No talent? That’s an easy excuse.
There’s no get out of jail free card here. All that’s left is for you to remember what got you here. This is a game, and it is supposed to be fun. And when it is the most fun is when you are winning. This is a team that bonded as the year turned to 2009. Whatever happened in the beginning of the season didn’t matter. You figured yourselves out, your chemistry on the court displayed an intense admiration of each other’s skills, and a willingness to work within a system to make sure that everyone has a chance to shine.
It worked. You want to talk about a detonation, there you go. What happened in January was devastating to the NEC.
Now here you are. Someone finally landed a punch. Not just a quick jab, either. It was a series of body blows and then two powerful uppercuts. But you are not down. Sure, the referee is giving a standing eight count, but you have time to regroup.
So in the words of Michael Irvin, “Look up, get up and don’t ever give up.”
This is not over. Two games are left to begin writing your final statement on the 2008-2009 Robert Morris Colonials. And as any good writer will tell you, you must start strong to finish strong. The middle comes together on its own. This week starts a new story, so this is the new beginning that you must write. Do that, and you can work on being able to write one hell of a finale when you win the NEC Tournament.
The fuse has been lit on the end of basketball for the Robert Morris Colonials. The only question is which detonator is going to set it off. I’m certainly willing to travel back to Erie to see if the cranky old clock still works. I just hope they don’t need it.
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