Bruce Weber ended the post-game press conference with a flourish. When asked if he thought the Illini’s effort might have won him some friends within the fan base, Bruce flatly replied, “If they didn’t enjoy that game, to heck with ‘em,” and promptly walked out.
And really, he’s right. Because if you didn’t enjoy that game, you’re probably a religious zealot, worshipping at the altar of the barely legal athlete, counting your Rivals Top 100 coffers, and treating the message board more like a sandwich board. The end is nigh.
No really. It’s almost 2012. And if the myth of Progress has turned sour in light of a national debt of unthinkable proportions, a flaccid economy, and an ever-expanding police state given legal authority to break the law of the land by the nation’s preeminent law-making body…well, there’s another myth just begging for you to buy into, a myth whose stock is charting similarly to the price of gold—the alluring promise of apocalypse.
End this age and begin anew.
And, of course, this will not be a long, drawn-out period of suffering, displacement, and the grueling work of rebuilding. Hell no. We’re the elect, the saved—who, in a heartbeat, will be raptured up to the heavens. Or at least the Elite Eight.
Or, if direct assumption isn’t your thing, there’s always the prophecy of the steadfast leader of a band of plucky survivors, waging bloody war on the drooling, brain-dead hoosiers, hawks, and heels roaming the byways of America.
Point is, we come out on top. We are the hero in this myth. Or we hire the hero.
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Weber was right. It was an exciting game. Too exciting, in fact, to get bogged down in our gonzopocalypse schtick. So let’s deal first with the reality that we’ve got. And if that comes to a screeching halt, we can reassess accordingly.
The Bud Light (copyright, trademark, all first-borns reserved) Braggin’ Rights game was fun. The crowd was perfectly divided and deeply involved. Disturbingly involved. As someone has surely said, once you commit yourself to engaging in depravity, you might as well push it as far as you can. Loud to the point of actual pain. And that’s on the deadened ears of stoner-doom enthusiasts.
Also, being an interloper on press row at a game like this is pretty damn cool. Even though some things look and sound better from far away—Illinette stage makeup, trombone lines, Bob Knight
—many things look better from close up—40 inch verticals, reverse layups, Loren Tate
If you’re reading this, you probably know the basic trajectory of the game. Missouri dominated early and looked like they were going to embarrass the Illini, but a strong second half showing, especially from Joseph Bertrand, not only brought Illinois back into it, but briefly put them on top, thereby prepping Illini fans for the infliction of maximum pain.
Like we said, fun. And again, for the third time, Weber was right. We enjoyed ourselves.
But even if all that is true, does enjoying the spectacle and investing in the emotional roller coaster mean that you should enjoy the end result? Or that Bruce shouldn’t be auditioning for his continued employment? Courtside, it was easy to enjoy the game. But just as easy to see the deeply embedded flaws in Weber’s basketball operation.
Like it or not, this season is a referendum on Bruce Weber’s personal value to a small town in East Central Illinois. Until Mike Thomas makes a definitive move, everything will be framed as such. That being the case, it’s unclear what the takeaway from this game is. Illinois’ showing will only add fire, allowing the opposing fanatics to entrench themselves along the HQ-Scout Maginot line, and fight out a grueling war of attrition—a far bloodier sport than what we saw on the court, and one that can go on 24/7.
From an untrained eye, Illinois appears to have the horses. Does it have a jockey?
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Photos by Matt Campbell
Within story above
- Bobby Knight with his star Indiana guard, A. J. Guyton
- Loren Tate with former Illini Kiwane Garris
Meyers Leonard won the opening tip…
…and later auditioned for Kevin Hambly’s volleyball squad. Otherwise, he barely touched the ball in the first half.
A preseason knee injury to forward Laurence Bowers precipitated Missouri’s frequent use of a four-guard lineup…
…which precipitated a similar deployment of Illini by Bruce Weber on Thursday night. This recently-forgotten sophomore played 28 minutes.
Bertrand awaited a ball screen from Leonard, after which he blitzed the paint and hit a short jumper that pulled Illinois to within one and nearly capped a remarkable second-half comeback.
One of only two reserves to see action, Michael Dixon paced Mizzou with 18 points.
Outcome notwithstanding, the Bertrands were all smiles over Joe’s coming out party.
The sanctioned consumption of alcohol is one thing that distinguishes this event from other Illinois basketball games.
The presence of the White Rat is another.
The Scotttrade Center has no use for your silly eschatology, but displays judicious caution nonetheless.