Dirt devils

I don't know how many lives a gator has, but if you're a cat it might be time to file a protest. Those scaly man-eatin' bastids are horning in on Tabby's deal.

See, nine lives may make the cat the king of resurrections, but the gator -- OK, the Florida Gators, then -- are coming up fast on the outside. Last night they got themselves down a hole again in the national championship game, and once again they climbed back out to stun another victim.

This time it was Kelvin Sampson's fierce, relentless Houston Cougars, who came up two points short of their first national title -- the final was 65-63 -- and were left appropriately shell-shocked by the outcome. That's because  for pretty much the entire evening they did what they do: Take opponents right out of their game and exhaust them.

Last night they took Florida's north star, Walter Clayton Jr., and locked him in a closet, holding him to zero first-half points and just 11 total. The Gators floundered around as a result, and by the 15-minute mark of the second half the Coogs had them down a dozen.

Which of course was dead center in Florida's wheelhouse.

Down and all but out, it seems, is their launch pad, it seems, or at least it has been for half of March. They never seem comfortable until the first shovelfuls of dirt hit them as they're being lowered into the grave. Then they transform into dirt devils, kicking away the clods, ripping the shovel from the hands of their tormentors and braining them with it like Moe braining Curly.

Last night was the third game in a row they followed that script, going back to the West Regional final. In that one, Texas Tech led by double digits in the second half, and still led by nine with three minutes to play. But Clayton sparked an 18-4 Florida run to close it out, 84-79.

And in the national semifinal?

Against Auburn, the Gators were once again down -- by eight at the half, and by nine early in the second half. Then they went on a 13-3 rip to take the lead, and out-gritted Auburn down the stretch for the 79-73 W.

And last night?

Bogarted Houston's identity, is what they did. Plain and simple out-Houstoned 'em, right down to the final ticks of the clock.

If the Cougars were the authors of the lockdown D, the Gators did the rewrite, after going down 12. During one stretch of the second half, they held Houston without a field goal on nine straight possessions. And in the last 3:24, they forced five turnovers -- including three in the final minute.

It all came down to Emmanuel Sharp rising up from beyond the arc with 4.9 seconds left, and guess who scrambled that? Oh, you bet, it was Walter Clayton Jr. his ownself, flying out on the shooter, closing with such vehemence that Sharp bagged the shot and dropped the ball lest he be called for traveling.

A mad scramble ensued, and the star of that was Florida's Australian big man, Alex Condon. Channeling his youth -- in addition to basketball, he played Australian rules football as a kid -- he went sprawling to the floor, got his hand on the ball and swiped it to Clayton.

Game over. Season over.

And then the blue-and-orange confetti, the national champs hats, Clayton and Condon and the rest hoisting the Big Trophy for the Gators for the first time since Joakim Noah 'n' them went back-to-back in 2006 and 2007. They hauled out the ladders, handed out the scissors, and up they all went for the ritual snipping.

And, no, it's not true the Gators gave the nets a head start. But it woulda been just like 'em.