Thank you to Ed, Tyus, Toby and Dickie Vee

Thank you to Ed, Tyus, Toby and Dickie Vee

Eric Billigmeier

To begin with, let me fill you in on my emotions right about now
…

… Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah! Yeah baby, yeah baby, yeah baby, yeah
baby. Yeepah, yeepah, andelé, andelé. Yeah,
wooooooooo!

Awright, that was fun.

Now, then, how shall I put this? Here are your choices:

1) UCLA has a very good basketball team, one that deserves its
banner alongside the 10 legendary others. Or …

2) Jim Harrick’s Bruins played their hearts out for nearly seven
months, sweating and toiling and fighting and winning and losing
(and winning!), before taking home the ultimate prize and removing
the ultimate monkey from their coach’s back. Or …

3) Holy cow, we freakin’ rule!

From Cal State Northridge to Arkansas, with all the Kentuckys,
Arizonas, Oregons, Cals, Dukes and USCs mixed in, this was a dream
season for me and, I would guess, every other long-suffering UCLA
basketball fan in the world. (And if we’re feeling dreamy, just
imagine what the party was like in Kris Johnson’s room after the
game Monday night!)

I’ve officially marked it down: Monday, April 3, 1995, 7:55
p.m., Seattle Kingdome, section 111, row 30, seat 110 ­ all
that adds up to the happiest moment in the life of this little
camper. I was actually thinking about it as I stood there ­ in
virtual shock, I might add ­ and I came to the conclusion that
I had never before been this happy.

I thought of storming the court in Oakland and hugging every
Bruin in sight, knowing my final sports wish had come true in my
senior year (for those of you keeping track: one Rose Bowl, four
football victories over USC, one Final Four, and I’m satisfied with
my career). There was the time I ran up the USC sideline, leaping
with every step, watching J.J. Stokes go the distance after
catching a John Barnes pass. And, of course, there was the time …
well, we’re still trying to get that out of our system.

But when it comes down to it, I’m fairly certain I’ve never been
happier. God, this is great, ain’t it?

Considering that I’ll be wearing this smile for, say, another
year or two, I figure there’s a few people to whom I should show
appreciation. They’re the ones who are responsible for my ­
OUR! ­ giddiness this lovely April day. So without further
ado, sincere and grateful thanks go out to …

* Tyus Edney, whose name deserves top billing on all of these
lists. Thank you, Tyus, for four years of service with a smile, for
never laying blame when you blew it and for never taking credit
when you deserved it. Thank you for never turning down an
interview, no matter how inane the question. And dadgummit, Tyus,
thank you for the Missouri Miracle.

* Ed O’Bannon, whose five- year stint in Westwood goes unrivaled
­ at least in my experience ­ in its excitement, emotion
and its ups and downs (and ups!). See all that stuff I said about
Tyus? Copy and insert here. Ed and Madeline, I beg you, have
another child.

* Jim Harrick, for sticking to his guns and proving everybody
wrong the right way ­ not through words, but through his
team’s effort. The bandwagon’s overloaded now, eh, Coach? Yeah,
well, just keep your eyes on the road, because they’re already
yelling in the student section (it better have been a joke) for
"nine more."

* Pete Dalis, for never listening to KMPC.

* Doug Diamant, my companion for all three trips and all six
games, for not backing out of Boise.

* Scott Mitchell and Dave Lowenstein, for helping me with
tickets. Dave, that beer is on ice.

* The UCLA band, for absolutely ROCKING the joint at the
post-game house party at the Sea-Tac Marriott. Y’all were smokin’
all tournament.

* Monday night’s student section, for breaking a new hole in the
sound barrier.

* Corliss (or is it "Scoreless") Williamson and Scotty Thurman,
for completely stinking up the Kingdome in the most important game
of the year. Oh well, you guys still know you’re the best, right?
It just wasn’t your night, you’re still the champs. Yeah, keep
believing that. Big Nasty? More like Big Nuthin’.

* While we’re at it, thanks to all the Razorbacks in the world,
who root for the most arrogant bunch of clods I’ve seen play a
college sport since the Miami football Hurricanes of the Jimmy
Johnson era. You think seeing your boys swagger onto the court with
their index fingers raised didn’t fire up the Bruins? You think
knowing Clint McDaniel said, "If we play our game, there’s no way
they can beat us" didn’t fire up the Bruins? Think again.

* Whoever invented that "Woo, pig, sooey" cheer. While it is
quite possibly the dumbest traditional chant of all time, it
sounded really cool to hear it while we were kicking your ass. Of
course, I’d still marry any one of your cheerleaders on the spot
(the females only, please).

* Mark Gottfried and Lorenzo Romar, for stockpiling this
blue-chip-heavy family. What a wondrous blend of athleticism and
personality. Not only did they kick tail on the court, they acted
like they truly liked each other off the court. No wonder Lorenzo
didn’t take the OSU job.

* Steve Lavin, for taking those athletes and teaching them how
to play defense. Your enthusiasm and love for the craft especially
benefited Charles O’Bannon this year, mostly in the tournament.
Yeah, I’d say he played pretty good defense Monday night.

* Tony Spino, the Bruin trainer, for keeping ’em healthy, and,
of course, for bringing Ed-O back to the land of the living.

* Cameron Dollar, for being the most underrated player in the
country all year long and proving your worth in front of millions
when your team needed you the most. Work on that shot this summer,
Cam, then come out next year and take the nation by storm.

* George Zidek, for working like a pack mule for four arduous
years, for enduring all the snickers early in your career, for
becoming a complete player this year, and for ­ who woulda
thunk it? ­ becoming a team leader. Hey, Big George, you know
that Big Nasty dude, that All-American from Arkansas who rules the
paint? George, you eat his kind for breakfast.

* Toby Bailey and J.R. Henderson, for not playing like
freshmen.

* Kevin Dempsey, for not transferring.

* Kris Johnson, Ike Nwankwo, omm’A Givens and Bob Myers, for the
teamwork and patience.

* And last, but certainly not least, thank you, thank you, thank
you, Mr. Dick Vitale, for being a know-nothing,
I’m-bigger-than-the-game,
I’ve-seen-UCLA-play-dozens-of-times-but-I-still-think-
they’re-ripe-for-the-upset,
Tyus-Edney-is-good-but-he’s-no-Damon-Stoudamire, loudmouth idiot.
You’re gonna eat your crow and you’re gonna like it. And while
you’re at it, don’t ever come around here no more. Nobody likes you
and you’re not welcome. Just stay back there in your posh East
Coast studio and keep ripping us until next March when we stuff
another championship down your throat.