I always wondered how I would feel after the Jayhawks finally won a National Championship. I had dreamed about what it would be like since I was 6 and knew what the heck was going on.

It all started with a shot. The Jayhawks had a shot — the shot — to tie the game.

I started to think of years past. I’d seen this before: KU with the ball with a chance to tie in the tournament. There was Wayne Simien’s miss at the buzzer against Bucknell in 2005. There was Hakim Warrick’s freakishly damn long arms blocking Michael Lee’s three in the title game in 2003. In 1998, Paul Pierce had a shot to win or tie it against Rhode Island when KU lost in the second round as a one seed. In 1997 when the Jayhawks had the best team in the nation all season without a doubt, they laid a dud in the sweet 16 against Arizona, but still had a shot in the end, and Raef LaFrenze missed, of course. Cursed. Maybe. Our boys just don’t make those shots. Our seasons end in heartbreak.

Sherron Collins got the ball in the backcourt and hesitated, and I swear he had to have heard every KU fan in the building yell, Go! What the hell was he waiting for? As he dribbled across half court, I could tell KU’s patented last-season play — the dribble handoff — was coming. Every time the Jayhawks had run that play at the end of a game it had failed. Please tell me this one was going to be different. Collins made it across half court, then he tripped, I gasped, and somehow he got the ball to Mario Chalmers for the shot. The play played out so slowly. I could tell Chalmers wasn’t hurried. He’d always been willing to take big shots. When he released the ball and as it got halfway through the air, I was at the perfect angle to see the eventual result. I knew it was in. Then it swished and it’s one of the moments in life that you’ll never forget. People will ask where were you when Mario Chalmers hit the shot, and if you’re a Kansas fan, you’ll know exactly where you were, whom you were with, what you were wearing, eating and drinking.

I was there. And we went crazy. I hugged everyone in sight. I grabbed a kid I didn’t know behind me and shook him. I picked up my buddy Thor (the name gives it away, he’s a big kid). Thor. Me. Picking up Thor. I think I kissed my buddy Ryan on the cheek. It was nuts. It was one big gay hug between the three of us boys. And we didn’t care. We loved life. We knew the game was over. No chance Memphis was going to win. This was ours. This was meant to be.
Once it was all over, I didn’t know what quite to think. I’d spent my sporting life waiting for this moment and I didn’t know how to react. I thought I’d probably cry. I’m kind of sentimental like that. Tears always used to accompany the end of the KU basketball season when I was a kid. These tears would be different, but I thought they would come.

They didn’t.

Instead, I just kind of stood and watched with a frozen smile on my face. I tried to feel something, but I couldn’t. My mouth was dry from two straight hours of yelling. I tried to cry, but I couldn’t. My body could no longer produce any fluids. My body, my head, my feelings were exhausted.

So I watched. I stood and watched others celebrate.

We stayed in our seats until the whole celebration on the court had finished. They played the alma mater and I remembered the first time I sang the alma mater as a student. It was at freshman orientation with my mom, and I looked over at her and she was bawling. She was just so happy her boy was at KU and she remembered when she was a student and it didn’t seem that long ago. The alma mater has had a soft spot in my heart ever since.

The celebration on the floor finished with the last thing you always see after the championship: One shining moment. I’ve always enjoyed the ‘One shining moment’ montage, but it’s always bittersweet because the end is some other team celebrating. I always wanted that to be MY team, and it was pretty sweet that it was. The best part was just being there with three of my favorite people in the world. I got into journalism because I wanted to go to games for free and I wanted to write about moments like Mario’s shot and in a way document sports history with my words. But, as a journalist, you have to be sort of detached. There’s no cheering in the press box. If I would have had the chance to cover that Final Four, I would have been slightly disappointed. Attending as a fan and attending with my friends is something that I will hold onto for the rest of my life. I’ll hold onto that moment, sitting in the dome watching my team celebrate and then looking at the joy in the faces’ of my buddies.

But, still, no tears.

I had told myself and my family and friends all season to enjoy the ride. I knew this year and this team could be special, but sometimes we get so stressed out about the end result that we don’t enjoy the journey. I’m guilty of this. I get so stressed out over every possession, every rebound, every call.

So I stood there after my Jayhawks had finally won the National Championship, and I tried to enjoy what was going on around me. I watched everyone hug. I took mental pictures of all the smiles.

But, still, no tears.

Then I looked over at my buddy Thor and I realized my reaction wasn’t so strange after all.

Thor sat and he looked like he had just been notified of terrible news. His eyes were bloodshot and he looked straight ahead. His mouth was open slightly and he wasn’t smiling. He was in disbelief. It was as if he couldn’t believe what he just witnessed.

I needed reassurance. I needed to feel something. So I called my mom. I share everything with my mom and I needed to share this with her. As she answered the phone, she spoke with sheer joy in her voice. I pictured her face and how she smiles and cries at the same time, which only happens when she’s proud — usually proud of her boy. And it all hit me then. Finally, I felt something. I felt warm inside. I felt a tear in my dry eyes. I knew it had happened.

I yelled out, We did it, momma! We’re champions.

And it feels amazing.

One Response to “Rock Shock Champions”

1. Your Aunt Cindi Says:
   July 1st, 2008 at 9:09 pm

   That was beautiful!! “That” being your story I just read AND getting to relive the best game in all of K.U. history (I watched Danny & the Miracles win too, but this was better). Anyway, I got tears in my eyes reading this one too. (I would have anyway but knowing & loving your mom like I do probably helped. =) Love ya’

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