Baseball!

 Got up this morning and the ground was white with frost, which is not the way Mom Nature is supposed to behave on the fourth full day of spring. Some folks just aren't raised right, I guess.

However.

However, the other day the mercury breached 75 degrees, and I went for a walk in shorts and a T-shirt, and reawakening was everywhere. People's lawns were greening up. Here and there were splashes of yellow -- sprays of daffodils; the first blooms of yawning forsythia. And the lilac bush outside our bedroom window was alive with fat green buds, thisclose to busting out.

So, yes, spring has sprung, despite this morning's uncouth misdirection play. And I know this because, as with every year in the life of an old sportswiter, it's not just the rhythms of  nature but the rhythm of our games that tell me so.

Which is an overwritten and purplish way of saying baseball's Opening Day is tomorrow.

The capitalization is intentional, especially for those of us who remember when it was an Event and not just an event, not just baseball's first act in a months-long slog. Back then the Reds had the honor of kicking things off in Cincinnati, where Opening Day was a great big coming-out-of-winter party that lured thousands of giddy Cincinnatians outdoors no matter what kind of weather early spring chose to serve up.

Sometimes it was warm. Sometimes it was not. And one time at least, if memory serves, Cincinnati woke up on Opening Day to a couple inches of snow, and there was a photo on the wires of pitcher Randy Jones of the San Diego Padres building a snowman in the visitors dugout.

I don't know if that will happen tomorrow in San Francisco, where the Giants and New York Yankees begin the MLB season with a stand-alone game. And I for sure don't know if it will happen Thursday in Cincinnati or the eleven other cities that will host Game 1 of 162.

What I do know is the seamheads have come out with their predictions for this season, and at least one of them -- baseball writer Bradford Doolittle of ESPN -- has my Pittsburgh Cruds ranked 22nd out of 30 MLB teams. He's predicting a .500 season (81-81) for the Cruds, which would be their first non-losing season in eight years. He's also predicting they have a 32 percent chance to make the playoffs and a one-percent chance to play in the World Series -- which ain't great but is a better than the zero-percent chance they've generally had since their last appearance 47 years ago.

Apparently this meager uptick in fortunes is due a pitching rotation led by Cy Young winner Paul Skenes, Bubba Chandler and Braxton Ashcraft. It's also due a 19-year-old wunderkind named Konnor Griffin, whom the seamheads swear is the greatest five-tool player they've seen come down the chute since, I don't know, the last greatest five-tool player to come down the chute.

And, yes, I can already hear all of you tuning up.

"Oh, great," you're saying now. "I suppose this means you're going to be posting even MORE Pittsburgh Pirates crap this year. Especially if the Pirates' braintrust doesn't turn Konnor Griffin into Peter Griffin, and Oneal Cruz stops kicking baseballs around like Lionel Messi, and everyone on the pitching staff manages to avoid elbow twinges and the like.

"Sooo much to look forward to."

Darn skippy there is. I mean, my Cruds and every other team in MLB -- even my wife Julie's beloved Boston Red Sox -- are undefeated so far. Which means 162-0 is STILL POSSIBLE.

Hope springs eternal, as they say. Even when spring itself is white with frost.

Children of the corn

 Repeat after me this morning, boys and girls, and remember the words well: 

Alvaro Folgueiras.

That's "A" as in "Alvaro," and "F" as in "Folgueiras". Also "H" as in "Holy crap are you KIDDING me?"

No. No, we are not, boys and girls.

That really was the correct score you saw pop up Sunday evening, and that really was a bunch of black-clad children of the corn hopping around like they'd just sacrificed another yokel to He Who Walks Behind The Rows (gratuitous Stephen King reference). That really was Iowa 73, Florida 72, and down goes one of the NCAA Tournament's 1-seeds -- and the defending national champions -- in the round of 32.

And all because of A-for-Alvaro, F-for-Folgueiras.

Who bottomed the go-ahead three out of the corner with 3.9 seconds to play last night, thus becoming -- for now, anyway -- the unlikely face of March Madness. A 6-10 reserve forward from Malaga, Spain, Folgueiras averaged 8.5 points, 3.8 rebounds and 2.3 assists this season for the 9-seed Hawkeyes, last seen finishing ninth in the Big Ten with an overall record of 23-12. They went 10-10 in conference play.

No matter. Last night they won thanks to Folgueiras, a 32.7 percent three-point shooter who played 18 minutes for the Hawkeyes, scoring 14 points. None, of course, were more seismic than that corner three, which bedded down neatly to leave the Gators, and presumably most of America, with their jaws agape.

It was climax of a day when three 4-seeds-or-better went down and several children of the corn had themselves a day. Iowa's cross-state rival Iowa State, a 2-seed,  smoked 7-seed Kentucky by 19, 82-63, the Wildcats' worst NCAA Tournament loss in 54 years. And then there were your Purdue Boilermakers, alma mater of popcorn mogul Orville Redenbacher and conqueror of 7-seed Miami (Fla.) by 10, 79-69.

The 2-seed Boilers won despite an uncharacteristically sloppy game from point guard Braden Smith, who scored 12 points and dished eight assists but also kicked it away eight times and missed nine of the 12 shots he put up. That left it up to the other two members of Purdue's grand senior trio, Trey Kaufman-Renn and Fletcher Loyer, to ride to the rescue.

Loyer, a sometimes streaky shooter, un-streaked for this one, scoring a career tournament high 24 points on 6-of-7 shooting including a perfect 4-for-4 from Threeville. Kaufman-Renn, meanwhile, added 19 points and nine rebounds on a day when Miami outboarded Purdue 33-25, including 14-4 on the offensive end.

Again, no matter. The Boilers are off once more to the Sweet Sixteen, their seventh trip there in the last nine seasons. This time around, there was an added, um, sweetener: Sunday's round-of-32 win, Purdue's seventh straight, was also head coach Matt Painter's 500th career win at his alma mater.

The Boilers next get 11-seed Texas, who knocked out 3-seed Gonzaga on Saturday. The Longhorns are significantly better than their seed, with savvy guards and a gifted big in Matas Vokietaitis, a 7-footer from Lithuania who went for 17 points, nine boards and two assists against the Zags. He'll give TKR and Oscar Cluff all they want down low.

As they say in the movies (or not): Onward.

Alma matters

 Two seconds on the clock and Eugene Parker at the stripe.

Let's begin there this morning, shall we?

Let's begin 53 years ago -- 53 years! Ye gods! -- on a March evening in Allen County War Memorial Coliseum, New Haven High School leading Concordia Lutheran High School by a skinny point. The wondrous Mr. Parker is getting ready to shoot a one-and-one for the Cadets. We're all wearing those goofy paper bowlers over in the New Haven section, because that's what you did during sectional week, and we're hissing "Miss it! Miss it!" at the wondrous Mr. Parker.

Well, OK. So not me.

Me, I'm shaking my head and saying (mostly to myself), "He's not gonna miss these."

And of course he didn't, being Eugene Parker and all.

And of course New Haven lost again, by a skinny point, 'cause it was sectional week, and losing's just what we did during sectional week.

Lost with my great senior class, Joe Vidra and Rick Rutledge and Tom Muth and them. Lost the year before -- again by a point -- in the sectional championship game, with all of the above plus 6-foot-5 Ken Ehinger, who kept getting fouled by Andy Replogle of Snider and THE OFFICIALS REFUSED TO CALL IT (Not that I'm bitter or anything). Lost with little Dave McHenry, and big Mike Sickafoose, and a whole pile of others across the years.

Wait, did I say years?

Decades. I meant decades.

Because, see, my alma mater never so much as won a sectional for the first seven decades of its existence. And it never won a regional. 

Wait, did I say "never won a regional"?

Had never won a regional. I meant "had never won a regional."

Because, see, I woke up last Sunday, and saw that my alma mater, the proud purple-and-gold, won a regional for the first time in New Haven's 103-year history. And then I woke up this morning, and saw that a kid named Tarvar Baskerville -- Tarvar Baskerville! Is that a great name, or what? -- made a driving layup with 2.9 seconds showing last night, and New Haven went on to win the Logansport 3A semistate, 59-55 over conference rival Columbia City.

Which means, of course, that New Haven is going to the state finals next week.

Give me a minute. I need to process what I just said.

New Haven ... is going ... to the state finals.

Whoa.

They're going with Baskerville, and also Daylen Jackson and DaMarcus Wright and Jadrian Ezell, and also Lavell Ledbetter. None of them are taller than 6-5, which figures. Six-five was about New Haven's limit, at least in our day.

Along with head coach Brandon Appleton, these Bulldogs will head down to Gainbridge Fieldhouse in Indy next weekend, and of course they'll be decided underdogs. Waiting will be third-ranked Indianapolis Cathedral, which knocked off No. 1 Silver Creek last night to win the southern semistate. 

Not that any of that matters, at this particular moment.

What matters is New Haven High School, the old alma mater, is going to the state finals. 

And so hand me a paper bowler. Dress me in gold and purple. Make me sing our school song, which IU stole from us, and round up Vic the Bulldog, and repeat the magic words, slowly:

New Haven ... is going ... to. the state finals.

Whoa.

Down goes David

 Begrudgingly, today, we begin with a basketball score: Tennessee 78, Miami (O.) 56.

And, yeah, yeah, yeah, yada-yada-yada, I can hear the slide-rule boys now. The RPI jockeys ... the Quad Squad ... the SOS (Strength of Schedule) Brigade ... they're all sneering, "See?"

Great. Here's a cookie. Now go away.

Don't want to hear anymore about the RedHawks getting washed by 22 in the NCAA Tournament yesterday, and not looking good doing it. A team that lived by the three died by the three, missing 22 of their 29 attempts from beyond the arc as Tennessee slammed the door on that locale. A MAC school with a MAC school inside game was Windexed by 17 rebounds, 42-25.

 A 6-seed SEC school that was bigger, faster and more athletic won laughing against an 11-seed. So what else is new?

The aforementioned sneer-ers who take that as vindication for their absurd contention that a 31-1 Mid-American Conference school did not belong in the Big Show can go fly a kite. Because Tennessee did what Tennessee was supposed to do. And if it proved Miami didn't belong what about, oh, say, Prairie View A&M?

Who lost to defending national champion Florida yesterday, 114-55.

Lost by four more points than it scored, in other words. Trailed 60-21 at halftime. Shot 27 percent (17-of-63), including 6-of-22 from beyond the arc.

In other words: Miami wasn't the only David who got ball-peened by Goliath yesterday.

It was not, shall we say, a day for busting brackets, which was a shame but also an excuse to check out every so often from wall-to-wall hoops. Tennessee and Florida rolled. 1-seed Arizona paved Long Island by 34 (92-58). Two seeds Purdue and Iowa State cremated Queens University and Tennessee State by 33 (104-71) and 34 (108-74), respectively.

(The Boilermakers, by the way, brushed aside the Royals with regal disdain, shooting 63 percent including 58 percent from the arc. Braden Smith scored 26 with eight assists and Trey Kaufman-Renn 25 to lead the Boilers; Smith and backcourt mate Fletcher Loyer combined for 38 points and were 8-of-14 from Threeville. The highlight of the night was Smith becoming the NCAA's all-time leader in assists, knocking that annoying little dweeb Bobby Hurley off the top of the ladder.)

What else?

Well, it was such a chalky sort of day we didn't even get a 12-over-5 scare.

Five-seed Texas Tech breezed past Akron, 91-71, and five-seed St. John's erased Northern Iowa, 79-53. Even the 7-vs.-10s went according to form, although 7-seed Kentucky needed Otega Oweh's buzzer-beating Hail Mary bank to force overtime and knock out Santa Clara, which had just taken the lead on Allen Graves's three with two-odd seconds to play.

That was your excitement for the day.

And the next two days?

Hey. That's why we watch, right?

Welcome to the Madness

 This is what you call in sick for, what you eat wings and drink beer at straight-up noon for, what you fill out a bracket for and then say, "Aw, hell, I knew the Tar Heels were a buncha mids this year. Why'd I pick 'em?"

Welcome to the Madness, boys and girls. Welcome to -- maybe, possibly -- the two best days of the year.

That would be the Thursday and Friday that kick off the NCAA Tournament, also known as the Burn Your Bracket Zone. This is because sometime on one of those days, and frequently on both, some trust-fund baby seed goes down to some wannabe from the sticks.

Usually, it's a 12-seed taking out a 5-seed. Because 12-over-5 has become one of those immutable March Madness laws of nature, like the Big Ten, SEC and ACC always getting eleventy-hundred teams in the show, even if occasionally some of them are Northwestern or Mississippi State.

At any rate, 12-over-5 is a tournament talisman, and, hey, guess what? We didn't go two hours until it happened yesterday.

Come on down, you High Point (N.C.) Panthers!

Who sent big-deal Wisconsin to the sidelines in the first slate of games, 83-82, a more-than-usual shocker mainly because Wisconsin came to March on something of a roll. Won five of their last six games, the Badgers did, finally losing to top-seeded (and NCAA Tournament 1-seed) Michigan by a measly three points.

But High Point, the proud champions of the Big South Conference, sent Wisky back to Madison on a late layup. Boom!

No other 12-over-5s happened on Thursday, but a couple of 11s-over-6s did, and that's almost as good. Texas took down BYU, and -- perhaps more notably -- plucky Virginia Commonwealth upset the aforementioned North Carolina Tar Heels. Came from 19 points down to win in overtime, 82-78, and hooray for the, um, Commonwealthers.

(No, that's not VCU's nickname. Its nickname is the Rams. Clip and save for your next round of sports bar trivia.)

Other than that ...

Wait, what?

Oh, man, I almost forgot!

How 'bout those mighty 16th-seeded Siena Saints, everyone?

Who, OK, wound up losing to overall top seed Duke, but only by six, 71-65. Before that, the fightin' Saints scared the pedigree out of the Blue Devils, leading by 11 at halftime and by 13 early in the second half. They continued to lead until just 4:25 remained, when Isaiah Evans drove hard to the iron and laid it in to finally put Duke in front.

Ah, well. On to today.

See ya at noon. Wings and beer on me.

Play-in payback

 Because I am a retired newspaper guy who is occasionally hijacked by his inner 8-year-old, I came up with the perfect headline for Miami (O.)'s ten-point win over SMU in Dayton last night.

"Nyah, Nyah, Nyah-Nyah Nyah" is what I would have stripped across the top of the game story. Editorial balance be hanged.

I would have done this because Miami caught a raft of grief from various shady network analysts (Come on down, Bruce Pearl!) and slide-rule dudes, who determined the 31-1 RedHawks were a fraud who had no business in the NCAA Tournament. The RedHawks' strength of schedule -- as determined either by Quad 1 wins or quad pulls, I can't remember which -- was down there with Popeye the Sailor Man, pre-spinach. Beat a lot of Dog's Breakfast States and Bricklayer A&Ms to pile up those 31 wins.

Me?

I thought that was a pile of its own, and not a fragrant one. I figured any MAC school that went 31-1 damn well deserved a role in the Big Show, on account of MAC schools have a long history of jumping up and whipping their betters in said Show.

The selection committee apparently agreed, although with some reluctance. Yeah, the bracketeers let Miami in, but only in the play-in games. To get in the actual tournament, the RedHawks would have to beat the Mustangs, who play in the hoity-toity ACC and thus were installed as 6.5-point favorites.

Well, nyah, nyah nyah-nyah -nyah. Miami won 89-79 and was rarely challenged, never trailing after going on a 14-2 run in the middle part of the second half. SMU led 49-48 at the beginning of that run; it was the only lead the Mustangs had in the second half.

The RedHawks rode 16 threes to the W, their most ever in an NCAA Tournament game. Their 89 points were the most a Miami team had scored in the Madness in 68 years. 

"The reason people love March Madness is they love to see quote, unquote, upsets," Miami coach Travis Steele said when it was done. "This wasn't an upset tonight, at all."

Indeed not. And speaking of non-upsets ...

Let's hear it out there for the Howard University Bison, who were not upset at all about winning THEIR play-in game Tuesday to advance to the first round of Da Tournament for the first time in school history.

I bring this up because occasionally my inner Civil War nerd wrestles the steering wheel away from my inner 8-year-old, and therefore I say, go, Howard. This is because Howard, a historically black research school, was founded in 1867 by Oliver Otis Howard, a Union general in the Civil War who lost an arm at Fair Oaks but went on to become one of his side's more competent combat generals. 

This is despite the fact he's been unfairly maligned for being asleep at the switch at Chancellorsville, when his Eleventh Corps crumbled before an overwhelming surprise flank attack by Stonewall Jackson. That no one else saw Jackson coming either seems not to have altered the Union Army's perception that the Eleventh Corps -- and thus Howard -- let them down.

Well, phooey on that. 16-seed Howard takes on 1-seed Michigan tonight in the first round of the Madness. I don't see any Joe Hooker or Ulysses S. Grant U.'s doing that, do you?

So there.

'Dog show

 Baseball is our game, Walt Whitman once wrote, but he never saw what happened in Miami last night. He never heard a bunch of scrappy underdogs -- because aren't underdogs always "scrappy"? -- singing, shouting, howling "Gloria Al Bravo Pueblo" into the south Florida night as if it were, I don't know, "The Star-Spangled Banner" or something.

"Gloria Al Bravo Pueblo", you see, is the Venezuelan national anthem. And that's what a bunch of weeping, hugging Venezuelan baseball players were singing at the end of Venezuela 3, USA 2.

Turned the championship game of the World Baseball Classic into a 'dog show, the Venezuelans did. As in, "underdog show."

The Americans were supposed to win last night, transforming what is frankly America's Passed Time into America's Pastime again. But, just as in 2023, they lost 3-2 in the title game. Three years ago to Japan; last night to the Venezuelans.

Which suggests America the Great Exporter has done a bang-up job of exporting one of its most cherished cultural treasures.

And the hugging and crying  and belting out of their national anthem by the Venezuelans?

Well, that suggested something else.

"This country needs this happiness with all the things that we've gone through," said designated hitter Eugenio Suarez, who delivered the go-ahead RBI double in the ninth inning.

And, yes, everyone knew what he meant, or at least every Venezuelan did. Assigning political motives to an athletic contest is often the most lazy of cliches, but it's impossible to view Venezuela-USA solely through the lens of runs, hits and runners left on base. Not after the United States spent months violating Venezuela's sovereignty, killing its citizens and waylaying its shipping. 

Culminating, of course, with the raid that kidnapped Venezuela's admittedly vile gangster  Nicolas Maduro, and whisked him off to the U.S. -- for the crime, essentially, of denying America access to  Venezuela's oil.

Now a new regime is installed that may or may not play ball with America's own Regime,  and may or may not survive without resorting to Maduro-esque brutality. In any event, it's welcome to more instability for another South American country.

So, yes. Venezuela needed this happiness, as Suarez said. And if winning a baseball game is pale business compared to getting kicked around geopolitically by a perceived bully, it was at least, for one night, a sliver of payback.

Gloria Al Bravo Pueblo 1, The Star-Spangled Banner 0. For one night, anyway.