Fernandomania Revisited

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I've been a Dodger fan most of my life, and it is hard for me to believe that it was 30 years ago this spring that the phenomenon known as "Fernandomania" swept over the land.

I was in college that spring and had to observe what was happening from afar (and that wasn't easy to do in 1981 — nightly cable baseball broadcasts were still years in the future). But, even in northwest Arkansas, I was aware of how Fernando Valenzuela had "radically altered the country's cultural and sporting landscape," as the Los Angeles Times' Dylan Hernandez observed a few weeks ago.

I'll say he did.

Valenzuela went 8–0 to start the 1981 season. The word "dominant" is often overused, but no other word is truly adequate to describe the start of Valenzuela's rookie campaign. Teams just couldn't figure him out. He had five shutouts in his first seven starts.

He also attracted a lot of attention for his unusual delivery, in which his eyes looked skyward just as he was about to throw the ball. He appeared to be looking for divine guidance or inspiration, and, in the first part of 1981, it seemed he was getting it.

But he was never really the same after a midsummer players' strike wiped out nearly 40% of the season. He struggled at times after play resumed. He went on to win both the Cy Young Award and the Rookie of the Year Award (the only pitcher to accomplish that), and he led the Dodgers to victory against their old American League rivals, the New York Yankees, in the World Series that fall.

But he was different after the strike.

In spite of the strike, he started 25 games that year and had 11 complete games. It was the only season that Valenzuela, with a fadeaway screwball that was widely said to be the best since Carl Hubbell pitched for the rival Giants in the 1930s and 1940s, led the league in strikeouts, shutouts, innings pitched and games started.

He had other major league seasons during his career that produced more of everything, but he never had a season like 1981.

"Mania" was the right word for it.

My Last Post (Hopefully) on Barry Bonds

Yesterday, I wrote about Barry Bonds' obstruction conviction (and the mistrial that was declared on the perjury charges).

In that post, I said Bonds should not be enshrined in the Hall of Fame, but I conceded that he would remain eligible. Based on his performances on the field, I believe Bonds stopped talking steroids when baseball inaugurated its anti–steroid policy — and, consequently, was never in violation of the policy.

Even so, it still doesn't seem fair to me that Bonds' records — which were achieved through artificial assistance that is now expressly prohibited and upon which the case for his enshrinement in the Hall will rest — should be allowed to stand.

It seems (at the very least) inconsistent to me that the same sport that would not recognize Roger Maris' single–season home run record without an asterisk (to indicate that it was achieved in 162 games, not 154) will one day welcome Bonds into its Hall of Fame with open arms, well aware that he never would have done most of the things he did if not for steroids.

But that does not bother me as much as it once would have because, as I said, I am indifferent to Bonds now.

I also expressed my hope that I would not feel compelled to write about Barry Bonds again, but, nevertheless, today I read a column by Sports Illustrated's Jon Heyman, who defended Bonds' eventual (and, I presume, inevitable) enshrinement in the Hall.

In general, I have a lot of respect for Sports Illustrated. I'm a football fan, and I enjoy reading Peter King's writings on the subject for SI. And I have enjoyed reading the other writers on the staff over the years as well.

Beyond the writing, I appreciate the quality of SI's photography (no, I'm not talking about the swimsuit issue, although it is hard to ignore the quality of those photographs). It often captures the emotions that SI's writers — as gifted as they are — are unable to express adequately.

And Heyman is no wet–behind–the–ears sports writer, either. He covered the Yankees for Newsday. He was a baseball columnist for The Sporting News. He's been with Sports Illustrated since 2006.

I would not question Heyman's credentials or his knowledge. Thus, when he writes that he believes Bonds compiled enough Hall–worthy numbers before he began taking steroids (Heyman thinks Bonds started taking steroids in 2000; I think it was long before that) to make moot the point that "not all his numbers are legit," I accept that his conclusion is based on facts — and what Heyman believes to be facts.

"Unless a voter makes a moral judgment," Heyman writes, "the question voters need to ask ... is whether those drugs helped transform the player into a Hall of Famer."

In Bonds' case, Heyman doesn't think the drugs transformed him. He believes Bonds was already there. I disagree.

We disagree on some other points, too. For example, Heyman writes that Bonds is "one of the three greatest players I ever saw in his prime, along with Alex Rodriguez and Rickey Henderson."

I guess that surprised me more than anything else because Heyman is close to my age, and I can remember several ball players who I thought were better than any of those three.

Willie Mays and Hank Aaron were both far better home run hitters than Bonds or Rodriguez, and they had to bat against far better pitchers. So, too, did Mickey Mantle.

Lou Brock was a better base stealer than Rickey Henderson — who didn't have to steal against the cannon–armed catchers Brock did.

And I know Heyman is old enough to remember guys like Roberto Clemente, Ernie Banks, Billy Williams, Reggie Jackson, even Pete Rose (who is deservedly banned from baseball but also deserves to be mentioned in this conversation).

I could keep going, but I think the point is made.

As I said yesterday, though — and as I repeated today — I'm indifferent to Bonds now. I don't feel a need to quibble over when he started using steroids. I have my own opinion about that, and it is enough for me. I don't need to persuade others.

I agree when Heyman observes that the standards for enshrinement in the Hall are much lower than they are in a court of law, and that is as it should be. "Scoundrels and cheats are already in," he writes. "So are foul–tempered jerks. Bonds may be all three."

Granted. When the Hall of Fame balloting takes place, it is hardly the College of Cardinals choosing the next pope.

I would like to think, though, that when someone is chosen for a sports hall of fame, he is being chosen in part because he is the kind of person parents would like their children to emulate. He should be honored for his achievements, but it would be nice if he was not a scoundrel, a cheat, a foul–tempered jerk.

Unfortunately, though, if you make that a requirement, you'll have to eject some Hall of Famers like Ty Cobb, who weren't great people but they were great ball players.

So the Hall of Fame isn't ideal. Neither, for that matter, is the criminal justice system.

The difference is that the criminal justice system does keep trying to improve.

Barry Bonds

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"Doctors ought to quit worrying about what ballplayers are taking. What players take doesn't matter. It's nobody else's business. The doctors should spend their time looking for cures for cancer. It takes more than muscles to hit homers. If all those guys were using stuff, how come they're not all hitting homers?"

Barry Bonds
2002

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I feel kind of indifferent to Barry Bonds.

There was a time, not too long ago, when Bonds was still playing — and being referred to, at every at–bat and often when he was in the field, as the home run king — and I wished the worst things I could for him.

No, I did not wish that he would die. I don't judge people for deciding to take their own lives, but if a person is alive (and, presumably, wishes to remain that way), I do not wish for his/her life to end.

But I did wish that his career would end, which it did.

And I did wish that he would be exposed for what he is — and he has.

Well, kinda sorta.

Bonds has been convicted of obstructing justice, but mistrials were declared on the perjury charges — all stemming, of course, from his use of steroids in his pursuit of the all–time home run record.

I never thought for a second that Bonds didn't take steroids.

OK, I admit I never liked him personally — but that is only because he is not likable. I have rarely, if ever, seen a professional athlete who was as universally disliked as Bonds. The only people who ever seemed to like him were the people in the cities where he played — and they always stopped liking him when he stopped wearing their team's uniform.

He started his major league career in Pittsburgh, kind of a scrawny fellow, but he was still something of a power hitter. His numbers weren't eye–popping — average for a power hitter, I'd say.

But he never had a season like the one he had in 2000. He was in his mid–30s at the time, and he became only the second man to hit 70 home runs in a season. Actually, he smashed that record.

In seven seasons in Pittsburgh, Bonds' best home run output in a season was 34. But in the next seven years in San Francisco, that was just about his low point. In fact, in every season from 1993 to 2005 (including the strike–shortened 1994 season), Bonds hit at least 33 home runs — and in eight of those seasons, he hit at least 40 home runs.

He followed the 2000 season with three consecutive seasons of 40–plus homers — at the point in a baseball career when just about any other power hitter you'd care to name experiences a sharp decline in production. The guys he passed on the way to the all–time home run crown — Hank Aaron, Babe Ruth, Willie Mays — saw their numbers tumble in their 30s — although, to be fair, Aaron did have some great seasons in his late 30s.

But Aaron was consistent. He never had a pro season in which he hit 50 or more home runs — and rarely had a 40–homer season. He passed Babe Ruth primarily through sheer endurance.

Bonds, on the other hand, only experienced a dropoff in productivity starting in the 2005 season — the same season in which baseball put its current anti–steroid policy in place.

I never saw how anyone could believe that Bonds hadn't taken steroids — or hadn't been aware that he had.

I was glad when his career was over, and I wish major league baseball would put an asterisk (or a little hypodermic needle) next to his name in the record books because I believe his single–season and career home run records were obtained fraudulently.

What's more, I think Bonds should be banned from baseball and kept out of the Hall of Fame because his use of performance–enhancing drugs is a more blatant form of cheating than gambling.

But none of that will happen — because steroid use didn't even lead to brief suspensions before 2005. It wouldn't be fair to penalize him for violating a policy that didn't exist.

Pete Rose and Shoeless Joe Jackson will remain barred from Cooperstown because gambling was and is explicitly against baseball rules.

But Bonds will continue to be eligible for the Hall, even if baseball adopts an even tougher policy.

And his records will stand indefinitely.

But, as I say, I'm pretty much indifferent to Barry Bonds these days. He's yesterday's news.

And, for Bonds, that may be the worst punishment possible.

A Memorable Masters

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"If you could read Adam Scott's lips when he shook fellow Australian Jason Day's hand as they walked off the 18th green as runners–up, it summed up a day unlike any other in Masters history.

" 'That was awesome; that was unbelievable; that was great,' said Scott in a flurry of superlatives about a day that was all of that and then some."

Scott Michaux
Augusta (Ga.) Chronicle
April 11, 2011

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I don't usually watch golf on TV.

I don't play the game so I don't understand many of its subtleties.

And I've always been of the opinion that, if someone wanted to market a truly effective cure for insomnia, all that person needed to do was sell video tapes of golf tournament broadcasts. The announcers always speak in hushed tones, as if they are standing just behind the golfers, and the imagery is always pastoral and soothing.

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Especially the Masters — with the coma–inducing theme music it has been using as long as I can remember.

But I watched much of Sunday's final round of the Masters — and I was never tempted to doze off.

There were too many stories unfolding, as Scott Michaux wrote in the Augusta Chronicle.

Now, I don't know anything about Michaux. I presume that, if he has been writing for the Augusta paper for awhile, he has covered more than his share of Masters tournaments — and he speaks from experience when he calls yesterday "a day unlike any other in Masters history."

What I do know is this.

I've watched bits and pieces of most of the Masters broadcasts in my life. Occasionally, I have felt compelled to watch a bit more than that.

But I can't remember the last time I sat in front of my TV for hours, watching the Masters' final round unfold.

I was alternately astonished by Tiger Woods' remarkable comeback (for awhile on Sunday afternoon, he was actually tied for the lead), Rory McIlroy's equally amazing final–round collapse (thanks to a still–hard–to–fathom triple bogey from a guy who had been shooting under par all week) and the rapid ascent of three Australian golfers.

It was like golf's version of the Olympics. Something dramatic was happening at every hole.

And when the dust settled, South African Charl Schwartzel birdied the final four holes and won the tournament by two strokes.

When Tiger Woods won the Masters 14 years ago, he changed golf. He became its star — an unreachable star, in the eyes of many who played the game. Hard as it may be to remember, there were actually managers of some golf courses in America who wanted to extend some of their holes to make them more challenging for any golfers who could hit drives as far as Tiger could.

Tiger has fallen on hard times, and golf no longer has a dominant personality — but, as Michael Hiestand observes for USA TODAY, there was no absence of star power in Augusta on Sunday.

Even when it became clear that Tiger's comeback would come up short.

Tiger Blood

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Someone is going to win the Masters today.

It ain't gonna be Tiger Woods, writes Gene Wojciechowski for ESPN.com.

But it might be Rory McIlroy, who staked out his advantage in the first round and has built it into the "largest lead Augusta National has seen since that remarkable day 14 years ago," writes John Romano of the St. Petersburg Times.

Anyone who is old enough to remember the 1997 Masters remembers the way Tiger Woods dominated the field. He was the youngest golfer ever to win the Masters, a mere 21, but that was probably the least of his accomplishments on the day he won his first green jacket.

He's won three more since then, and he's won every other major multiple times.

Tiger continues to cast an enormous shadow over this tournament — even though he has only won it once in the last eight years — but that shadow seems to be receding.

Tiger goes into today's final round trailing by seven strokes. He had a seven–under round one day in 1997 en route to his record–setting triumph in the Masters, and he flirted with it the next day so he is — or, at least, has been — capable of that.

But, in order for a 65 to result in at least a tie with the current leader, that leader would have to do something he hasn't done in the first three days of this tournament — break even.

In fact, even if the leader duplicates his worst round of the tournament (yesterday's two–under 70), Tiger would need to shoot a nine–under 63 to match him — and he would have to hope that the other golfers who stand between him and McIlroy don't have record–smashing afternoons of their own.

It just seems to me that there are too many obstacles between Tiger and a fifth green jacket. And even if there were no other golfers between Tiger and McIlroy, the greatest of the obstacles would remain: If Tiger ever shot a 63 (in a major or even a non–major), he hasn't done it recently.

So I would have to conclude that Wojciechowski was right — but we won't know that for sure until later today.

We'll also have to wait until later today to find out if Sports Illustrated's Joe Posnanski was right a couple of days ago when he observed that first–round leaders seldom win it all.

"In the last 25 years, there have been a total of 41 first–round leaders, including ties," he wrote. "One won the Masters. One. More first–round leaders over the last quarter century have finished in 21st place than first. Only 17 of the 41 first–round leaders even finished in the Top 10."

Let me amend what I just said. Posnanski clearly is right about the tournament's recent history. What remains to be seen is whether McIlroy will overcome it.

Going into today's final round, McIlroy has a chance to make that two first–round leaders in the last quarter century who have made their leads hold up long enough to win a championship.

We'll find out if he is able to do it later today.

Duel in the Sun

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It may not always seem like it, especially when you look at the scores, but there are dramatic moments — turning points — in a tennis match.

I was reminded of that today when I watched the women's final of the Sony Ericsson Open in Miami between Maria Sharapova and Victoria Azarenka. If Sharapova won, Susan Miller Degnan of the Miami Herald reminded her readers, it would be her first title since last May.

I don't know why, but I always tended to view tennis as a women's sport, even though I knew that some pretty talented male athletes played tennis.

When I was a teenager, I followed women's tennis because I had a crush on Chris Evert — and she was almost always in the finals of every tennis tournament. In fact, it was almost routine to see Evert (or Evert–Lloyd, as she was known after marriage) face Martina Navratilova in championships.

Frankly, it was so routine that I always thought it was a waste of time to play the earlier rounds — except on those occasions when one or both did not survive them (which rarely happened).

I didn't really follow men's tennis too closely. I admired Jimmy Connors — mostly because he had won Chris Evert's heart — and I kind of followed McEnroe and Borg, but mostly I followed women's tennis.

I gravitated away from women's tennis after Evert and Navratilova retired. But I started to feel myself being drawn back to it when Sharapova won Wimbledon in 2004 at the age of 17. I knew about her tendency to shriek every time she hit a tennis ball, and that may have been a bit upsetting for some people, but I kind of liked it. When I watched Sharapova play, I knew she was giving everything she had.

And, OK, I'll admit it. I thought she was cute, too. Who didn't?

Sometimes, promoters have tried to manufacture momentum for female athletes who had succeeded mostly because they were cute and not because they were talented. But some female athletes who were cute also happened to be talented. Sharapova was one of those, and she was deceptive. There was a lot of power in her slender physique.

She suffered a shoulder injury in 2008, though, and disappeared from professional tennis for nearly a year. Her appearance in today's championship was seen by some as a hopeful sign.

But it was not to be. Not quite yet.

Remember those turning points I mentioned earlier? There were two of those in today's match, both in the second set.

Azarenka handled Sharapova fairly easily in the first set, winning 6–1, then led 3–0 when the two got into battle over the fourth game. Sharapova took the lead, then held on as Azarenka rallied to force it to deuce.

(Since I don't watch tennis very often, it was a little difficult to orient myself. I remembered that Sharapova was blonde and shapely so I decided to watch for the one who was blonde and shapely — but it turned out that Azarenka is blonde and shapely, too.

(So I decided to look for the shrieker. But that was no help, either. Azarenka is a shrieker, too. And they wore similar headgear. From a distance, they looked remarkably similar. But I quickly discovered, through the brief closeup shots, that Azarenka was dressed in white and Sharapova was dressed in blue. Kind of a North Carolina Tar Heel blue.)

The two exchanged the advantage several times before Azarenka finally prevailed and led 4–0. At that point, I thought Sharapova was finished. I had seen similar matches when one contestant was dominated until a critical point, when everything turned around, and that contestant rallied for an improbable victory.

But I had seen other matches in which the contestant had a chance to turn things around but failed to seize the opportunity — and I feared that what I had just seen was an example of the latter.

Well, it was — and it wasn't.

It wasn't because, a few minutes later, Sharapova had rallied to win two games since losing the deuce and trailed 4–2 when the two were deadlocked again.

Again, it went back and forth, but finally Sharapova broke the tie and trailed only 4–3. Momentum seemed to be on her side, and I could imagine her rallying for a dramatic victory.

But it turned out that it was one of those times when the contestant fails to seize the opportunity after all.

Azarenka won two of the next three games and took a two–set victory in the final.

Sharapova has said that she hopes to retire early, that her plans for life include marriage and children. I hope those plans work out. It would be nice to see her win Wimbledon again, though.

And Azarenka showed me today that she has a lot of talent. I'm inclined to think she will win a few Grand Slams herself before she is through.

And I'm inclined to think the future of women's tennis is in good hands.

The Times They Are A-Changin'

It probably seems odd to say this, but the defending college basketball champion is in a decline.

I am speaking, of course, about Duke, the team that beat upstart Butler in the national championship game last year.

In the last two or three decades, Duke's basketball program has sort of filled the vacuum that was left at UCLA after John Wooden retired in the 1970s. Sure, UCLA has won a few national titles since then — but nothing close to what the Bruins were doing when Wooden was running the show.

In those days, UCLA was in the national championship game almost every year. The NCAA Tournament field was much more exclusive then — typically only the conference champions and a few independents — so just being in it was an achievement for just about any other program.

But UCLA always expected to win it — and win it UCLA did. UCLA won 10 tournaments in 12 years — seven in a row between 1967 and 1973.

The closest thing we've seen to that since Wooden's retirement has been the Duke program.

Most people would tell you — and they're probably right — that Duke's coach, Mike Krzyzewski, deserves the credit. He's been the coach there for more than 30 years. He's taken Duke to 11 Final Fours (second only to Wooden), and he's won four national titles.

When he wins three games next season, he will be the most successful coach (in terms of victories) in NCAA Division I history. Barring something that is totally unexpected at this point, it is a sure bet that he will reach that milestone — probably sometime before 2011 is over.

He could have achieved it much sooner, though. If his Blue Devils had gone to the NCAA Tournament championship game, he would have won enough games to earn that distinction.

But they lost to Arizona last night, and now they must wait until next season to see him overtake the leader, Bob Knight.

During the late '80s and early '90s, Duke won half of the national titles it has claimed in the Coach K era — and made more than half of its Final Four appearances.

Those were the glory years for the Blue Devils.

Since the 1995–96 season, Duke has returned to the Final Four at a less imposing clip — roughly once every four years (and only twice in the last decade).

Far more frequently, Duke has made it to the regional semifinals (the "Sweet Sixteen"), where the Blue Devils have gone down half a dozen times since 2002. This year, it was to Arizona. In 2009, it was Villanova that eliminated Duke. In 2006, it was LSU. The year before that, Duke lost to Michigan State. In 2003, Kansas turned back Duke. The year before that, Duke lost to Indiana.

There was a time when Duke, like UCLA before, was an automatic pick for everyone's Final Four. But no more.

The times they are a–changing.

A Champ of a Different Color

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It is almost a cliche now to think of basketball as primarily a black sport.

That sounds racist, I know, but it is simply a statement of fact.

It is a recognition of the almost total transformation that basketball has experienced in the last half century, a transformation that may well have begun 45 years ago tonight when Texas Western University (now the University of Texas at El Paso), with an all–black starting lineup, won the national basketball championship over perennial contender Kentucky.

No other team, no individual coach or player has had the lasting influence on college basketball that that team had.

Black athletes were not new in America in 1966. They had been participating in professional sports for many years, and most schools outside the South had black players on their rosters, but until 45 years ago tonight, no team in any sport had fielded an all–black starting lineup in a championship game.

On that night in College Park, Md., Kentucky was making its fifth appearance in an NCAA final. The Wildcats had never lost an NCAA title game before.

The Miners of Texas Western, meanwhile, had never been in a championship game, and they were widely expected to lose that one. Many people acknowledged that Texas Western was good, but it was the first college in the South to integrate its athletic programs.

The Miners' coach, Don Haskins, made a point of recruiting black players — a fact that contributed to his inductions into both the Basketball Hall of Fame (1997) and the College Basketbal Hall of Fame (2006).

It was admired in the mid–1960s, too, but, in spite of ample evidence of black competence in all other endeavors, white athletes were still widely regarded as superior by most Southerners.

Black athletes were the great untapped natural resource in the South, but few people in the region realized the impact they would have on all sports. Even among more enlightened observers, there was a prevailing belief that an all–black lineup simply couldn't compete with an all–white lineup.

Nevertheless, the Miners won with an all–black starting lineup.

It is interesting, now, to look in the rearview mirror and see what people are saying about that time in history, that night and that team.

I was not yet old enough to be in elementary school — and my family did not own a TV set at the time — so I have no memory of it. But things were clearly changing in the South.

In my little hometown in Arkansas, for instance, segregated schooling was coming to an end that spring. Generations before me had gone through a segregated school system, but I never knew a time when blacks and whites did not attend school together.

March 19, 1966 "might just have been another day for millions upon millions," Bill Knight of the El Paso Times observes.

(That is a particularly intriguing comment for me because I mentioned this anniversary to my father at dinner the other night — but, although he is old enough to remember that night and my parents were passionate advocates of civil rights, he doesn't remember Texas Western's victory.)

"But, for the world of college basketball, it is a landmark," Knight writes. "For a basketball team, a band of brothers, it was the moment of a lifetime. And, for the city of El Paso, that day did, does and always will loom larger than the beautiful blue desert sky, will always cast a warm welcoming shadow grander than the Franklin Mountains over the city."

John Wallingford of the Tacoma (Wash.) News Tribune recalls that Texas Western came to Seattle two weeks before the championship game to play Seattle University in the regular–season finale. The undefeated Miners were ranked #2 in the nation and were assumed to be next in line for the top spot following Kentucky's loss to Tennessee earlier in the day.

But Seattle ended up handing the Miners their only loss of the season.

Hollywood didn't exactly give an honest portrayal of that "pothole" in its 2006 "Glory Road" movie retelling of Texas Western's triumph, Wallingford wrote.

That may be so, but the fact also remains that, with the Miners' victory 45 years ago today, "the complexion of the game changed for good," writes Wallingford. Whether you take a few modest liberties in telling that story (as "Miracle" did in its dramatization of the 1980 U.S. Olympic hockey team) doesn't change the bottom line or its inspirational quality.

In the Christian Science Monitor, Geoff Johnson and Rex Nelles have called the Miners' victory one of the NCAA's top 10 Cinderella stories of all time.

I guess you could call it a "statement game" — before anyone really knew what one was.

When they met the Wildcats 45 years ago tonight, University of Maryland junior Gary Williams was there, and he remembered that Kentucky fans treated the Miners "as if it was beneath their team to even play the Texas Western guys," wrote John Feinstein in the Washington Post when Haskins died in 2008.

Feinstein also wrote that Williams remembered that, after the game, he heard "Kentucky fans saying to one another, 'We need to get some of them.' It wasn't long afterwards that everyone began to recruit them."

The game that was played 45 years ago tonight changed everything about college basketball, Feinstein observed. "Basketball people now refer to Texas Western–Kentucky as the Brown v. Board of Education of college basketball."

I suppose it is appropriate that this 45th anniversary occurs during an NCAA Tournament that will crown its champion in the Lone Star State.

Other Texas schools have been in the Final Four, but Texas Western remains the only one to win a national championship.

And, other than a couple of U.S. Olympic teams, it is the only team enshrined in the Basketball Hall of Fame.

The Impossible Dream

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"To dream the impossible dream
To fight the unbeatable foe
To bear with unbearable sorrow
To run where the brave dare not go."

Joe Darion
"The Impossible Dream"

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At Richmond and Morehead State today, they know about Cinderella stories in the NCAA Tournament.

And, while theirs may be short–lived, their victories over Vanderbilt and Louisville, respectively, entitle them to enjoy the sensation of having beaten the seemingly unbeatable foe. They may well come crashing back to earth tomorrow.

The NCAA Tournament has a reputation for upsets. It is one of the main reasons that sports fans tune in to the games in the early rounds. They want to know who will be Cinderella this season.

Upsets were sort of uncommon in the old days of the tournament. Of course, part of that was because the field was much smaller, primarily conference champions and one or two independent programs. Until comparatively recently, there weren't enough slots for every team in the Top 20 to participate. It's kind of hard to call a victory for any Top 20 team much of an upset, even if comes against a higher–ranked team.

Still, upsets did occur from time to time.

They became more frequent when the field began to expand. That was what diminished the NIT, but it certainly brought excitement, an air of mystery, to the NCAA Tournament.

I'm not really sure when the tournament began to develop its reputation for upsets. Maybe it was in 1983 when North Carolina State upset powerful Houston in the championship game. It might even go back to Texas Western's unexpected victory over Kentucky 45 years ago tomorrow.

I do know that it was a reputation that was already established by the time the tournament began 25 years ago this week.

I was working on the sports staff of the Arkansas Gazette in those days, and I had graduated from the University of Arkansas, where I had been part of many exuberant crowds at football and basketball games.

Razorback fans were spoiled in the late 1970s and early 1980s. They were accustomed to seeing their basketball team compete in the NCAA Tournament, sometimes doing quite well.

But in the mid–1980s, Eddie Sutton was gone, Nolan Richardson had been hired but was frequently distracted by his young daughter's battle with leukemia, and the basketball program sometimes had the appearance of a rudderless ship.

In March of 1986, Arkansas fans were looking elsewhere to fill the void left by the Razorbacks, and Arkansas–Little Rock stepped up.

In the first round of that tournament, two No. 14 seeds won their opening–round games against No. 3 seeds — Cleveland State beat Indiana and UALR defeated Notre Dame. The ride didn't end for Cleveland State right away. The Vikings got to the Sweet 16 before losing to David Robinson and Navy by a single point.

But, for coach Mike Newell's Trojans, that was it. They lost two days later to North Carolina State.

That first–round game sure was memorable, though.

We had no TV in the newsroom in those days so we had to listen to the game on the radio. My memory is that just about everyone on the sports staff was pulling for UALR. It was the only Arkansas team in the tournament and, besides, who wanted Notre Dame to win?

Well, there was one Catholic guy on the staff, and I think he might have been pulling for the Irish, but he wasn't vocal about it.

I remember the Gazette's sports staffers gathered around a radio in much the same way that families must have listened to radio broadcasts during the Depression. A couple of the youngest staff members sat on the floor. The older staff members sat in chairs and listened intently as UALR built and maintained its lead.

Before long, people from the news side had gravitated to the sports department to listen to the radio.

After Newell left UALR, he spoke of his gratitude to all the people who came to the games and pulled for the Trojans in the days before their five–year postseason run that included three appearances in the NCAA Tournament. That, he said, was when he had been "selling a dream."

And, for one evening, UALR's students and fans permitted themselves to dream the impossible dream of being the ones who would cut down the nets and hoist the trophy in Dallas' Reunion Arena.

It didn't happen that way for UALR. It may never happen for UALR.

But, for that one evening, the Trojans could dream of it.

My Final Four Picks

There was a time in my life when the NCAA Tournament dominated all my waking moments.

I worked on sports copy desks for many years, and I can assure you that "March Madness" truly is insane. Think it's only crazy from the spectator's side? Wrong! I was never so exhausted — mentally as well as physically — as I was after working a night shift during the NCAA Tournament.

And, no matter who won the tournament, I was always glad when it was over.

After I left sports copy desks, I sort of left the madness behind, too. But I continued to pull for my alma mater, the University of Arkansas so I continued to be interested in the Razorbacks' fortunes. As their influence has waned, so has my interest — to the point where I no longer pay much attention to basketball — and, therefore, rarely pay much attention to th NCAA Tournament brackets.

However, for whatever reason, I have filled out a bracket this year. And I thought about posting it here — but it was just too big.

So I decided to simply summarize my predictions for you. Here goes:

• East: A lot of people have No. 1 seed Ohio State winning it all, but I don't. Maybe it's a bias on my part — a little payback, perhaps, for Ohio State's victory over Arkansas in the Sugar Bowl. Anyway, I picked No. 4 seed Kentucky to beat the Buckeyes in the Sweet 16.
  
  I don't believe, though, that Kentucky's relatively young lineup will get past No. 2 seed North Carolina in the regional final.


• Southwest: When I was younger, I didn't like to pick a No. 1 seed to make it to the Final Four. I guess it seemed too much like picking the favorite at the race track (a place I visited from time to time when I was in college and for awhile after graduation).
  
  Sure, there's always a reason — at least one and it's usually a good one, too — why the favorite is the favorite.
  
  There are a couple of regionals in this year's tournament in which I have concluded that the top seed really is the likely winner. I know that upsets happen in the tournament every year — and I have, actually, picked some upsets in this year's field — but I'm picking all the higher seeds in the Southwest to prevail.
  
  I think No. 4 seed Louisville might be a tough out in the Sweet 16 and No. 2 seed Notre Dame might cause some problems in the Elite Eight, but, when the dust settles, I think No. 1 seed Kansas will win the region.


• Southeast: As I say, I have picked two No. 1 seeds to advance to this year's Final Four, and I have identified Kansas as one.
  
  But the winner of the Southeast won't be the other.
  
  I do pick No. 1 seed Pittsburgh to advance to the Elite Eight, although I was torn over whether to pick Pitt or No. 5 seed Kansas State in the Sweet 16. And I think Pitt could be tested in the second round against No. 8 seed Butler.
  
  No, I think Pitt will fall in the regional final against No. 2 seed Florida. The Gators may struggle at times. They will probably face No. 7 seed UCLA in the second round, and UCLA might be playing with a lot of emotion since this will be the Bruins' first NCAA Tournament since legendary coach John Wooden died last summer. But that emotion stuff is likely to be more effective against No. 10 seed Michigan State than it will be against Florida.
  
  The Gators might also be tested in the Sweet 16, where I think they will face No. 3 seed BYU. Some folks think Florida will face No. 6 seed St. John's or No. 11 seed Gonzaga in the Sweet 16, but I think BYU will get past either of those teams.


• West: I don't know how this stacks up against what other people are predicting, but I've predicted the most "upsets" — i.e., the games in which the lower–seeded teams win — in this region.
  
  I think No. 9 seed Tennessee will defeat No. 8 seed Michigan in the first round. I also think No. 11 seed Missouri will beat No. 6 seed Cincinnati.
  
  But that's it. My days at the track taught me that favorites pay off more often than longshots do. So the rest of the games in the West should follow form, and I think No. 1 seed Duke will defeat No. 2 seed San Diego State in the regional final.

Which brings us to the Final Four.

All eyes may be on North Carolina and Duke as they square off on one side. That's only natural. They have a long rivalry, and they have been in many Final Fours between them, but they have competed in the same Final Four only once (1991), and they have never faced each other in one before.

This will be an historic chapter in their epic rivalry

The Kansas–Florida game may be overlooked — and I think that may well be to the benefit of the winner, Kansas. Not as much pressure.

Thus, after Duke emerges with what may be a hard–fought victory in its semifinal and Kansas defeats Florida, I predict that Kansas will win in the championship game on April 4.

Enjoy the games.