Tougher Times

After Saturday's loss to UCLA, an unprecedented fourth in five games, I decided to take a little break from my Wildcat-centric universe. During the time that I'd usually spend youtubing Arizona's "One Shining Moment" or reminding myself how awesome Jason Gardner looks in his Telekom Baskets jersey, I decided to see what the non-"Wild About the 'Cats" crowd does with their spare time.

You wouldn't believe what I was missing. I joined a gym, watched the first two seasons of Grey's Anatomy, co-wrote my brother's term paper ("Baked: How the Atkins Diet Killed Global Demand for Bake Sales"), and taught myself how to play the French Horn. Have you ever wondered, "What is the longest word that can be typed using only the left hand?" Well, I've got you covered, it's "stewardess." Go ahead, try it... Neat, huh? Indecently, my first and last name are also typed using only the left hand, so Marcus Williams might have trouble referencing me by name while emailing "fan mail" to rauraur.com.

Ok, you caught me... I can't go five minutes without thinking about Los Gatos. But why should I? Sure, times are tough but don't pretend for a second that you don't see this team turning things around and going on another oh-my-gawd-this-is-so-awesome winning streak.

(A sign of how trying these times are, however: I'm considering writing a screenplay for a horror flick where the protagonist is locked in an isolated cell for reasons completely unbeknownst to him. All this man - let's call him Frank - knows is that he fell asleep one night, in his own bed next to his wife, and woke up the next day surrounded by four unfamiliar walls, no doors, no apparent mode of exit, and no furnishings except a glass case positioned in the center of the room. Within the case sits a single arsenic pill - we know this because the glass case is clearly marked "Arsenic Pill." Ah, the magic of Hollywood.

Are you with me so far? Sounds pretty pedestrian, right? Well here's the kicker, the closest thing Frank has to human contact is local "call-in" sports radio being piped into his cell at extremely high volumes. How many fourth grade basketball coaches could you take, calling-in to demand that Mohamed Tangara enters the starting line-up or arguing that what this team is really missing is a Chris Rogers-inspired "chip on the shoulder", before that pill started looking like an enormous turkey basting in its own juices? Eventually all the "team character issues" talk, recruiting downfall discussion, and "this team's never been the same since Steve Kerr graduated" blather becomes more than Frank can handle. He scrambles to the center of the room that he's called home for, what he believes to be, the last six months, opens the arsenic display case, and dives head first for that pill.

But wait... that doesn't taste like arsenic... that's a... a... wintergreen Tic Tac? But the display case clearly says "Arsenic Pill"... How could this be? What is going on? Cue the speakers:

"...Let's take another call. Hubert, you're on the air."

"Yes, my name is Hubert, and I'd like to ask why Lute Olson isn't running more full court press. I implemented it on my "Six Foot and Under League" team and we had tremendous success, making it to the semi-finals despite having this one-armed guy playing power forward..."

The camera slowly pans in on Frank's quivering lip as the screen fades to black...

Pretty gruesome, eh? I know, I'm one sick dude. But the very fact that this idea even popped into my head, let alone me taking the time to write it down, shows how very tough these times are for me. Anybody know a good psychiatrist?)

Before this season started, a lot of people (including myself) couldn't help but notice that it's been exactly ten years since Simon said championship. Some (including myself) even went as far as to consider this "tin anniversary" an omen of good things to come (this theory worked miserably for the 2006 Arizona State football team, however. After going to the Rose Bowl in '86 and '96, ASU figured 2006 was "their year" and created an unintentionally hilarious ad campaign. Can you imagine leaving Sun Devil Stadium during the third quarter of a 48-14 blowout loss to Oregon and having to pass freeway billboards that read "Pasadena Just 4,481 Passing Yards Away"? Of course you can't, because being an ASU fan would be worse than death).

How reassuring is it that the greatest team is Arizona history disappointed fans for most of their regular season? Using them as a yardstick for success means there is always light at the end of the tunnel. Ok, maybe we've used the "Hey, our national championship squad finished 5th in the Pac 10, right?" argument a couple times too many. But why shouldn't we? Everyone knows that anything can happen come tourney time (just ask 'zona '97, 'cuse '03, and 'rida 06). And as long as Olson's at the helm, it's almost guaranteed that we'll be Electric Sliding our way into the Big Dance. Man, I love Arizona basketball.

Today is the first game of the rest of our season. And unless my next article is titled "Toughest Times", I don't see myself signing up for French Horn lessons anytime soon.

Bear Down and beat the Sun Devils