Tuesday, April 1, 1997
COMMENTARY:
Forget Magic Mountain, UCLA basketball offers thrillsMark
Shapiro
I’ve always been afraid of roller coasters.
Monstrous gradients, screaming wheels, bits of metal held
together by a few laws of physics.
Even the names are scary: Revolution, The Edge, Batman the
Ride.
But if you want thrills, chills and more excitement than can be
handled, the name of the ride is the UCLA men’s basketball team.
Jump onto this blood-chilling, fast-breaking team and hold on for
the action-packed, edge-of-your-seat, tantalizingly glorious season
that they put together this year.
* * *
There’s always that feeling of trepidation before you strap
yourself into your seat. That hot drop of fear that leaves you
questioning your sanity and faith in the empirical laws of the
universe as you gaze upon the rickety structure.
If you had told me in November that this Bruin bunch that was
about to be unveiled was safe, I’d have called the police. Even
before this ride got rolling, it was condemned to the scrap
heap.
A team of underachieving big mouths that no one put much stock
in had just been defiled by a head coach whose nose was undergoing
a growth spurt. While physics holds a ride together, a coach holds
a team together. Without this glue on the brink of the season, the
parts and players that would make up this team were in
shambles.
Into the breach steps an assistant who gets more press about his
sweat and hair gel than anything else.
Oh well, at least this ride will be well-oiled.
* * *
You always know that once the ride begins, you cannot get off.
We all had paid for our tickets and we were all ready to scream,
shout and get painted. No retreat and no surrender. If you give in
to the Grizzly at Great America, you’ll end up puking your guts
out.
Baby steps are always scary. There isn’t much steam and the cars
lurch around the likes of Tulsa and Kansas. Always edging forward,
inexorably creeping up to speed.
Does a roller coaster ever go backwards or quit in the middle?
If it does, you’re dead. Did this team? If it did, UCLA basketball,
for who knows how long, would be dead. A failed interim coach, no
leaders and no recruits.
It was a one-shot deal for the Lavin Express. If it broke down
or didn’t overcome an obstacle, it was over.
* * *
The scariest part of a ride, for me at least, is the big drop in
the middle, when the bottom falls out and your bladder ends up in
your ear. When this team’s feet came out from under it in Stanford
Part I, I was afraid. Afraid for the tournament, afraid for boring
games, afraid of the coming ascent.
Would the team tackle it and charge forward into the meaty part
of the ride, where Wildcats, Blue Devils and Trojans play? Or would
we sit among the middling masses, the once mighty UCLA basketball
program hanging out with the Pirates of the Caribbean of the
NCAA?
When you uncover your eyes after the big drop, you can see the
excitement up ahead. The home games against Arizona, Stanford, the
again-mighty USC and the boot that Dick Vitale licks, Duke
University.
Our team whipped through the heart of this season, upside down,
inside out, high-flying, death-defying, fast-breaking and careening
towards the Pac-10 title and the postseason. Always riding the
knife-edge of disaster as wheels ground against metal or a clock
ran down, but always recovering in time with a last-second
compensation.
It’s during this part of the ride that fear is overcome and
sheer enjoyment takes its place. The camp-outs, the stunning volume
of a packed house, the roars of our enthused minions drowning out
the squeaks, bellows, and protestations of the machine that is
carrying us forward.
I’ve always loved that part of a ride, especially if it’s
something I haven’t seen before. This was college basketball at a
level I had never experienced, even when our ride was the best the
country had to offer back in 1995. Ours was a machine that gelled
as it moved, propelling the hopes and voices of an entire
university forward.
* * *
Every ride has a big finish, one that everyone comes out for.
For our UCLA basketball ride, it was the NCAA tournament. All the
joy, all the fear, all the pride. It spills out faster than
overflowing beer foam. The riders hanging on for dear life as the
big finish came to a head. Just when it looks like this thrill ride
gets the better of our Bruin chariots, put another Dollar in the
machine and it keeps going.
A roller coaster brings out the barbaric yawp in every one of
its passengers at some point. The UCLA roller coaster did the same
thing as 12 friends leapt up and down as we saw the value of a
Dollar, and with only 1.9 seconds left.
There is one thing about these rides that I will never like. The
end. The end is always the worst because it invariably comes too
soon. It was the lowly Gopher gnawing at our battered but excited
ride’s works that finally brought it down. But down gracefully,
with maximum effort applied to stay afloat.
As the framework collapsed amid tears and sweat, the sturdy
patrons of the ride have all gotten their money’s worth. I’ve had
my share of pulse-pounding finishes and enthralling play.
I’m proud to say that I was a part of this ride. I’m proud to
say I’m a Bruin.
Do not despair this premature terminus, fellow thrill-seekers,
because in the next annum, this ride goes around again for another
jaunt. A few new pieces, sure, but the same idea: to give UCLA the
ride of its life.
Step right up, Bruin faithful, and get your tickets now.
Shapiro is a Daily Bruin sports columnist and the men’s tennis
beat writer. E-mail responses to mshapiro@
media.ucla.edu.