As our lead disappeared and turned into a deficit, emotions began to run high and we got frustrated. I can always tell when Geno Carlisle gets frustrated--his mouth runneth over with a stream of seemingly endless linguistic refuse. While at the line I must have told him and Herb Dove about 3 times in a row to shut up--they just wouldn't shut up and it got on my nerves. Why it is that some players insist on talking trash I will never understand. Never. What good does it do?
As is my style, I was posting like a madman, hoping that for just once in this game a guard would see me successfully fending off Brandon Brantley and let me just touch the ball. I longed for the feel of that leather orb in my palms. I was beginning to forget what it felt like to actually shoot one. Denied time and time again, I was open but I just couldn't get a look. My role on this team seems at times to be so pointless. I post and screen, post and screen, post and screen some more yet rarely do I get a good pass that would allow me to do anything with the ball. *heavy sigh*
I too began to get frustrated, especially with Brantley and Co. literally hanging from my arms in an attempt to front me in the post. I nearly had to flip Brantley over my back once just to get the refs to open their blurry eyes and notice that I was being mauled. Does the difference in size between my defender and myself justify letting him hang on me like a horny koala? I did my best to restrain myself, but the officials evidentally didn't think I did a good enough job of that. I sat for a while.
"Statistical champions" would be a more precise term to use--otherwise undeserving of the title "champion." I have absolutely no respect for players such as Brandon Brantley and Herb Dove. Never before have I played against a bigger pair of trash-talkin' cry-babies. Just because the cellar-dweling team in the 'Ten comes to town to give the home team an "easy win" doesn't mean that we're supposed to just lay down and take it in the posterior--I refuse to go out like that. We don't come to lose, nor do we expect to be treated by our hosts in such a fashion. I'd rather be shot in the kneecaps than have someone say to me "you didn't give your all." Perhaps Brantley should take some lessons from real players such as Jamie Feick (Michigan State) and Todd Lindemann (Indiana)--guys who will beat the ever-loving snot out of you while holding a light conversation:
"Oh not much Big Kreft, what about you?" replying with an equally agressive butt-in-the-thigh post up that leaves me hurting for two days afterwards.
On the ride back, manager Keith Peshke asked if I had any special feelings or memories that I would carry away from this contest. I have memories alright, but none of them special.