Fayetteville is a bitter memory now. We've moved on. We, no matter how crap-tastic the officiating was all night in the house of Wal-Mart against us, we ultimately didn't do what we could control: Free-throws and BOXING THE FUCK OUT.
When the time came, after two young kids showing that they could be clutch, take the big shot and make it, and have ice coursing through their veins, we failed at a basic principal of the game. Something you are taught in second grade, no matter how qualified your coach was at the glorified day care program that is elementary basketball practice. It's something that high school aged girls do, with a great deal of efficiency, by the thousands on any given prom night across America:
They put an ass on somebody.
We didn't.
No ass. None.
No Box out leads to put-back dunk. Put-back dunk leads to game over. Game over leads to Harrison twin altercation. Harrison twin altercation leads to Kentucky haters getting warm in the crotch and back on soap box. (Read that in a Yoda voice for dramatic purposes, but make sure you do it in a room in only which occupy you do.)
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| Arkansas sure does employ a lot of short-haired women security. And...the one in the back looks like Grumpy Cat. |
Cats, let's stop this vicious cycle. Let's box out.
And, we still think Arkansas coach Mike Anderson looks like this:
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