Bracket Buster: A Lesson On Allegiances

by Patrick ‘Rey’ Reynell

I consider myself a Philadelphian. Not native nor born and raised, but rather adopted. In fact, I grew up in Western New York State and chose to spend my college years at Temple University. I called the city of brotherly love home for four years.

Though I no longer reside there, I feel an affinity to everything Philly. So you can imagine how aghast I was to find myself cheering for Pittsburgh in the 2009 East Regional final.

Philadelphia is an unbridled Mecca of sports; unfortunately, its college basketball is often overlooked. It’s a jewel really, that many people do not give enough credit. Temple, Villanova, Saint Joseph’s, La Salle, Penn, and even Drexel, although Drexel is not considered a part of the ‘Big 5.’

I enrolled at Temple in the fall of 2001. The spring before, I visited the campus for the first time. Temple was playing in the NCAA tournament and had advanced to the elite eight as an 11 seed.

They lost the regional final to Michigan State 69-62. As fortune would have it, Temple never made the NCAA tournament while I lived there but hey – it’s Philly. There are always other schools in the brotherhood to cheer.

If Temple is out in March, there’s an unwritten rule to cheer for Philly. Besides, we’re a cordial group of rivals.

Philly schools gave its residents some good Marches. So with Temple out in the first round of this year’s tournament, you’d think Villanova’s Final Four run made me happy. There was one problem: my bracket said Pittsburgh.

After Temple’s improbable run in the tournament in 2001, Saint Joe’s seemed primed for a run of their own with two extraordinary guards, Delonte West and National Player of the Year Jameer Nelson. Dynamic guards in Philly – like caramelized onions and steak.

It was the 2004 tournament when I cheered on Phil Martelli and Saint Joseph’s after their undefeated regular season. I was heartbroken when Oklahoma State’s John Lucas hit that shot to beat St. Joe’s in the elite eight, as if I were an alumni of the small , private school on City Line Avenue.

Neither Temple nor Saint Joe’s seemed to be able to find those spark plug guards lately, perhaps because Jay Wright at Villanova has been taking them all.

A season later in 2005-2006, Wright and his crew captured the hearts of Philadelphians when he decided to red shirt his big man, Curtis Sumpter, after a knee injury. The significance of this was he didn’t look to replace him with a big man. His strength was his guards, thus he started four guards.

I loved the brass of playing four guards. Wright also showed some confidence by sticking to his defensive philosophy and playing man-to-man by just completely fronting everyone in the post. The combination of Randy Foye, Allan Ray, and Kyle Lowry was fun to watch to say the least.

I cheered for Wright’s Villanova crew that year in March, much the same just a season prior for Nelson and the Hawks. They lost in the elite eight to eventual national champion, Florida.

In typical sports fandom fashion, I filled out my bracket at work this year and submitted my five dollars. I picked Pittsburgh, but for no other reason than they seemed like the most experienced. I’m wholly realize it’s just a crap shoot.

By the regional finals, I was behind the leader by only one game. I was well aware of it, but also figured that if Villanova won, no big deal right?

When it came to the end of the game, Levance Fields of Pittsburgh made a timely steal and was fouled.

Then it happened: I cheered.

I cheered against Philly. I cheered against my adoptive home. And worst of all, I cheered for western Pennsylvania.

On the next possession, Scottie Reynolds of Villanova flew up the court and scored with less than a second left. I almost felt dejected. Here was Philadelphia making a triumphant return to the Final Four. Villanova making its first trip back since their miraculous run to the championship in 1985, and I was concerned about . . . my bracket.

I sat in my chair utterly baffled. I should have been happy for Philly. Instead, I had gotten caught up in my bracket thinking not just of the money, but also of being right in my picks. As if picking the games made me some kind of expert, some kind of college basketball connoisseur.

I’m sorry Jay Wright. I’m sorry Villanova. Most importantly, I’m sorry Philadelphia. I forgot for one single moment how important our allegiances are, not just to our school, but the places we call home. For a brief moment I turned my back on you. And for what? A silly, meaningless bracket.

There’s a reason I don’t do any fantasy leagues. I don’t want to start cheering for my players and become a hasty follower of my own team.

And now, there is a reason I will never do another bracket. Though it was just a moment, I felt like a deserter.

As an Owl, I’d be horrified at a Penn, ‘Nova, or Saint Joe’s alumni that did not cheer if we were the only Philly representative left in March. For a moment, I was that person, and I was appalled at myself.

Never again.

Go Villanova!