When Good Games Go Bad

Article first published as When Good Games Go Bad on Technorati.

There was nothing to be done but watch in disbelief.

After a tournament that had produced some truly thrilling moments — buzzer beaters, comebacks, unlikely upsets — the NCAA championship came down to a couple of teams that could not, for the life of them, buy a bucket.

Okay, so maybe that is a tad unfair. After all, UConn was still able to drain enough baskets in the second half to pull away for the title, but that really is not saying much. It would have taken a great deal of calculated ineptitude to match the utterly awful performance by Butler.

The numbers are staggering, the equivalent of a horror show for basketball coaches: 18.8% shooting from the field, the worst ever in a championship game; outscored in the paint by the unbelievable margin of 26-2; made only one field goal in over thirteen minutes during a particularly unimpressive stretch in the second half. The numbers go on and on, so much fodder for amusing digressions from countless analysts (professional and armchair) who, in all likelihood, would have gladly exchanged their snide remarks for a competitive game.

About the only area where Butler seemed to have any sort of success was in offensive rebounding, which is rather meaningless when the only thing it affords your team is the opportunity to miss more shots. It was as if the Butler rebounders were poor saps at a rigged carnival game, handing over their hard-earned money for another chance at losing.

You had to feel especially bad for Butler coach Brad Stevens; there is no way, when drawing up a game plan, to account for any sort of contingency plan should every one of your players suddenly lose the ability to put the ball in the hoop. One imagines a halftime speech where his only course of action is to draw a crude diagram on the blackboard, illustrating how the ball is supposed to slide smoothly through the circle.

And what to think of all the other eliminated teams that were forced to watch the pathetic display? It would be hard to believe that even benchwarmers on high school teams with losing records weren’t in front of their TV pondering how they could have hit that last open jumper. Perhaps it even gave them a dash of hope that someday they could be on the game’s biggest stage, tossing up bricks like the boys from Butler.

There really is little consolation to offer to Butler. After losing a year ago on a near-miracle half-court missed shot, only to be provided this gift of a second chance, excuses would surely provide nothing more than cold comfort. The beauty and tragedy of sport is that when it comes down, as it often does, to one game deciding everything, absolutely nothing else that you’ve done to that point matters in the slightest. All they can do now is collect themselves and get ready for next year.

Third time’s the charm, right?