THE STORY EVERYONE IS TALKING ABOUT

Sadly, the biggest – and, for the most part, only – story in college basketball today is actually a story about pro basketball:

How old school are we? 2006 old school, that’s how we do.

The draft is melancholy for us. On one hand, we will watch any draft of any sport because we are … how do you put this … addicts. There is something intensely interesting about watching the future unfold, not to mention that we, like Bill Simmons’ and his dad, roundly enjoy reviewing the suits each year. Plus, if you can’t enjoy watching Stephen A. Smith interview someone who doesn’t speak English – well, brother, we just don’t know what to tell you.

(Oddly, we now have a taste for cheez doodles. Which are delicious.)

On the other hand, however, the draft is where we bid a fond farewell to college players we enjoyed because … well, we just don’t give a damn about the NBA. We’ve tried, and we just can’t. It’s not because we think the quality of play is poor; we don’t think that’s true in the slightest (at least, not anymore). It’s not that we don’t find the games entertaining, or that we have a problem with the NBA “culture”. It’s that we have no blood on that field; we have no stake in what happens at that level.

We grew up as Cleveland Cavaliers fans, which was fun during the glory years with Mark Price and Brad Daugherty. (See, Carolina fans? We can let grudges go.) But then Daugherty got hurt and starting caring more about racing than playing. Price got traded. The Cavs acquired Shawn Kemp (and future negotiation rights with all 329 of his children), who promptly got fat and terrible. The team sucked. And then the 1998 lockout happened.

Even as college kids, there was only so much time we had to devote to following sports – there were things called “Goldeneye”, “beer” and “trim” to which we wanted to devote our attention. And at that time, with our team in shambles and the league thumbing its nose at its fans – well, we just couldn’t care anymore.

We’ve tried to go back to it – it’s not like we’re unaware that the Cavs have the best basketball player alive right now – but any devotion we may have had to our team is gone. As Simmons put it – like him or hate him, he sometimes finds a nut – when you cheer for a team these days, you are essentially cheering for laundry. And you know what? We just don’t care about that laundry anymore, because it’s so evident that those wearing it don’t care either. And without a rooting interest, frankly, just about any sport becomes difficult to follow with any sort of regularity.

Is it that much better at the college level? We’d like to think so – after all, a player chooses where to go to play his college ball, and part of us really wants to believe that players who choose to attend our alma maters share some of the same hopes and dreams we had when we first stepped on campus years ago. It can’t ALL be based on booster gifts, coaching personalities, and co-eds, right? (Though, in fairness, we had hopes and dreams for the same co-eds. We just had no chance.)

No one knows for sure, of course, and we’ll admit that our view is a rosy one, especially as it pertains to top level players. But we’d rather cast our lots with the guys who, at the margins, are playing for fun rather than the guys who are, at the margins, playing as a job.

So, we’ll be watching the Draft tonight – partly for fun, but partly to say goodbye to players that we won’t see or read much about again. It’s the cyclical nature of college sports, but it’s still kind of sad.

Quick -what is the greatest skill that Johnny Dawkins brought with him from Durham to Palo Alto? Is it his familiarty with Ivy wannabe employers that expect athletic success without compromising their standards? His ability to recruit talent within those confines? His abilities as a teacher of the jump shot and defense?

Nay, fair civilians – you know the true answer. The clincher in the hiring was Dawkins’ ability to deal with a huge dick. To work with it, to learn from it, and ultimately to love it.

And that love is what made Dawkins so appealing to a Bay Area team, so desperate to find a man that knew a good dick when he saw one.

And Dawkins has followed through as hoped – the Stanford head coach filled out his coaching staff yesterday, and in addition to stealing away his former employer’s director of basketball operations as an assistant coach, Dawkins brought in a Dick that knows how to find players in every alley in the Bay Area.

Feel blessed, young men of Menlo Park, for soon you will be in the presence of the biggest Dick in the history of Bay Area basketball. He will share with you his passion. He’ll treat you with his famous tenderness. And if you keep an open mind, you might just learn something from his wisdom, and reach your climax on the court. Oh yes, fair boys of Stanford, you will.

[/dick jokes]