Winning the NCAA Tournament: Stars or Teams?

We seem to run into this debate every March, and this year is no different. What makes a winning tournament team? A balanced, defensive minded squad who focuses on fundamentals? Or is it the fast-paced, athletic, offensive style that wins championships? Usually, we find that a mixture of these wins the prize in April (April? C'mon guys).

But maybe a better debate would be Star vs. Teams: which wins championships more often?

Now, having a team filled with stars will definitely improve your chances at winning a championship (in college at least), but I'm talking specifically about a star-run team (looking at you Kemba, Jimmer, Zona's Derrick Williams) vs. the prototypical Kansas, Ohio State and Florida State (defensive) modes.

Let's say you are a coach. You are given the option of selecting a game-changer like Walker, or you are given a bunch of blue-chip athletes to build a team around. Which would you choose? I'm sure most of your would take the blue-chippers as basketball is played by 5 at a time. But let me argue for the other side.

Take Uconn (as Kemba's impact on the basketball world seems to be a significant one). A team that a year ago lost to Virginia Tech in the NIT second round, and a final four loser to Michigan State the year prior, Connecticut was definitely full of mixed feelings and questions. The one constant during these two seasons? Kemba Walker... But as a second, third, fourth option. When Kemba became THE MAN, Connecticut followed; for in college athletics, a big time player makes everyone around him better. College athletes (and students in general) are a strange mixture of energy and complacency, they always want to be the first but sometimes won't act until they see an example of how to act. This idea follows the same path with Uconn. They had the talent, they had the players, they just didn't have the leader, and sometimes a leader, a star, is exactly what you need to win.

Look also at Jimmer Fredette at BYU. He was an absolute monster in last year's first round game again Florida (a rematch I am quite looking forward to in the coming week) and single-handedly carried his team to the NCAA tournament last year. This year? His team seems to understand the urgency and ability of their star and have stepped up mightily.

As an opposing coach, what do you do with a star player? You have to spend a lot of time game planning to shut him down. And admist all of that effort, it is usually another player who steps up to enable the star to win it all. And we see this time and time again in America's greatest tournament.


And this leads us to Duke. Probably the most loved/hated team in America, because year in and year out, it wins. Wins. Wins. Wins. And with star players? Sometimes. But more often than not, it is a well coached team who plays within themselves to get the wins. And in the greatest counter-argument of all to star players, Duke reveals championship banners with a well-rounded team. But lost in all of the "team" concept Duke produces, people forget to realize... the ENTIRE TEAM is packed with stars.

So I guess the answer to the debate are players. Players win you championships. Good players give you a better chance than poor players, and a Star gives you better chance than no star.

If you ask me, I'll take the Star-filled team, but I'm a sucker for underdogs, so give me a gig and I'll bring my team to victory, no matter how good.

Cherry and White and Dead All Over

I’ve seen college kids do some crazy things. I’ve seen college kids rag on teams, storm courts, and hoist players up on their shoulders like childhood heroes. But until Sunday, I’d never seen anything quite as crazy as the Temple University student section.

Touted on a Facebook event page for weeks, and in the planning stages for months, the Cherry Crusade, organizers of the Temple student section decided to throw a funeral for archrival St. Joseph University’s mascot, the Hawk that never stops flapping its wings.

Being a public school, we take things to heart and play with an enormous chip on our shoulders. We have to prove ourselves every day, so when private schools come in acting better than us, we tend to treat them with nothing less than brutality.

Lining up for hours outside of the Liacouras Center in frigid temperatures, one might have believed it was a gothic convention or Halloween party. Students dressed as priests, pall-bearers, and mourners ready to bury the Hawk, once and for all. Upon entering the arena, students received black t-shirts reading “R.I.P. THE HAWK,” a testament to the day’s agenda. Others passed out mock programs “In Remembrance of the Hawk,” listing the dates of the past eight games Temple won, and a list of players who were either suspended or transferred from Joe’s.

Only seating 10,000, the arena is always loud, but before the game, the anticipation was audible. As the SJU players were introduced, the student section kneeled, praying for their loss. Just before tip-off, the arena erupted as a cardboard casket was marched in donning a Jameer Nelson college jersey. One student dressed as the grim reaper guarded the casket through the entire matchup.

Rollout posters, a staple of Big Five basketball to taunt the other team, were especially stinging during the matchup. Displaying SJU’s Five Stages of Grief, they marched out, much to the awe of the other fans in attendance who clamored to take pictures of them. “Denial: 55 years of chanting ‘The Hawk Will Never Die!’” “Anger: Promising Recruits, 7-18 Record,”

“Bargaining: Phil Martelli's Severance Package,” “Depression: No Atlantic City two straight years,” and finally “AccepTance: 9 IN A ROW” perfectly captured the scope of the event.

The game was less than exciting, with Temple dominating the entire time. Sophomore Rahlir Jefferson turned out an outstanding performance, junior Juan Fernandez had stellar shot selection, and senior Lavoy Allen shattered the school’s all-time rebounding record. The Owls easily won, 66-52, to bury their A-10 rivals, if not their mascot.

Every school has their winner’s chant. Some schools sing “hey, hey, goodbye.” Other schools sing their alma mater. At Temple, we scream our “I Believe” chant. It’s what fans look forward to watching us do, and it seals the win with an immense fiery passion. As an alum screams “I” at the student section, we repeat. The alum then will scream “I Believe,” which we repeat, until finally, the entire section is bouncing, clapping, and screaming “I believe that we have won.” For the final spade in the Hawk’s grave, we substituted our quintessential chant to scream, “I believe the Hawk has died.”

I’ve been to some

crazy college games. I’ve stormed the court twice, twice more than any other person usually gets to do. But never, never, had I been to an event as well-planned, as thought-out, as carried-through, and most importantly, passionate as the Funeral of the Hawk. I certainly give my kudos to the Cherry Crusade on this one.

The Owls will look to make a decent run in the NCAA tournament this year and four-peat as Atlantic-10 Champions, and regardless of how far they go, they can certainly rest assuredly that they have a fan base like the Cherry and White. Some schools make signs for their players. Some schools have cheers for their players. Some schools congratulate their players on game day. I don’t know many schools that would kill the opposing team’s mascot for their players. But hey, that’s what college sports are for.

For those of you that didn't get to see the pictures from the game, enjoy. Thanks to the 700 level for the photos.

Zero Became My Hero

Watching the Kansas State-Kansas matchup at 6pm on ESPN Saturday, I was undoubtedly cheering for K-State. My Villanova Wildcats had lost earlier in the day, and my Temple Owls had won. Nova, ranked number seven, would certainly fall far without a loss from #6 Kansas. And for Temple, well, I’m just praying as many ranked teams fall as possible, in hopes that Temple will be able to crack the top 25.

Then the announcers told the heartwrenching story of Thomas Robinson, forward for Kansas University, who lost his mother, grandmother, and grandfather within three weeks. Lisa Robinson, mother of Thomas, passed away at age 37 from an apparent heart attack on January 21, the day before Kansas took on 10th ranked Texas, according to ESPN. Thomas, though grieving, stepped onto the court, and played the game. Teammates and coaches all flew to Washington, D.C. to support Robinson at the funerals of his grandmother and mother.

Tonight, signs in support of Robinson littered the stands and the players donned patches with “LR” in memory of Robinson’s mother. Coaches gave hugs and players remained encouraging. The entire game didn’t have your typical rivalry feel. Instead, it was an atmosphere of healing, and one where spectators, athletes, and coaches alike remembered that basketball is just a game we play.

The most inspiring moment was when Robinson, number 0, told why he stepped onto the court that night. He said he did it for his seven year old sister, to show her that life goes on, things get better, and they, together, can overcome this tragedy. The roars at the Jayhawks’ Allen Fieldhouse are always thunderous, but as Robinson touched the ball, scored a basket, or stepped off the court, they became deafening, letting Robinson know the KU family was behind him.

While I was cheering for K-State at the outset of the game, quickly, I found myself rooting for the one player on the court that made the biggest impact. Perhaps Robinson didn’t score the most points, or have the most rebounds, or make the largest on-court contribution, but he outshined all the other players with his heart and determination to play the game, to transcend his grief.

To know that there are some things that transcend the sport, make it that more meaningful. To know that the sport can help you work through the most difficult moments in your life, that is why we’re drawn to them. For Robinson, basketball is still just a game. But it’s the bonds he’s formed with the game and with those who play it with him that allows him to use the game to heal. Tonight was a poignant example of that. Rivalry, rankings, rushing the court mean naught, but helping a teammate heal, regardless of the color of their jersey, was truly the point of the contest.