NOT TONY, JUST JAMES (R.I.P.)

Shocking cannot describe the news of actor James Gandolfini’s death. I was initially taken aback by the death but I went on with my day exchanging “did you hears” and “can you believes” with friends, family and acquaintances. As the number of Rest In Peace messages grew I saw that James had touched more than the Hollywood but America. He was a steady working actor, who rocketed to “overnight” fame, as it’s always so callously described, when he took part in creating one of television’s iconic characters, New Jersey mob boss Anthony Soprano. I recall seeing the posters promoting the upcoming HBO series, with this slight of hair, doughy faced guy with a thousand yard stare and stood above the mantra, “If one family doesn’t kill him the other one will”. To say the least my interest had been piqued, because I love the normalcy of unique characters. In my younger days, I knew of people who walked across “the line” daily, but had responsibilities like getting their kids to school or getting their oil changed. And James Gandolfini brought that to the character of Tony Soprano. After the initial thirteen episodes I was hooked on the show and everyone’s favorite mob boss. . I mean without him saying a word, his Italian heritage and physical presence equated Tony Soprano but I didn’t know of Gandolfini’s earlier work, so I was one to believe this character was not a stretch for him. It’s like going to see megastars in films, the Will Smiths, the Tom Cruises, the Tom Hanks—sure you’re they’re actors but we’re paying for their own personalities in a role. I am one of these people who like to see actors do a varied amount of roles. Many audience goers say they want that but they deep down they like their Robert Deniros running an arm of the mafia, their Tom Cruises smirking and their Will Smiths dropping their “brother man” spiel. It wasn’t until I saw Mr. Gandolfini in a probably forgotten film titled The Last Castle. He would be antagonist to Robert Redford’s protagonist. The film was about Redford, a decorated but shamed war hero, being sent to a military prison under the wardenship of Gandolfini’s character, who was a peace time officer. Gandolfini’s character studied war like, a gamer studies the latest game platform or hottest game on the street. His character was kind of a fan Redford’s character, who didn’t really show him the respect he thought he deserved for his knowledge of war. Gandolfini’s character didn’t take kindly to it and became a prick to the Nth degree and the poster child for Napoleonic complex or what I would call “little dick disease”. He was nothing like the character that made him, well a “made man” in Hollywood. James left Tony Soprano back at a Silvercup Studios sound stage in NYC when he cut his teeth on this role. It may be just my perspective but I felt I was watching a man determined to make sure you realized that he was not the son of Livia Soprano or a regular at the Bada Bing. I as many continued to watch The Sopranos as appointment TV, but if I heard James was in a piece I was looking for him. I would see him in many non-gangster roles in 8MM, the Coen Brothers The Man Who Wasn’t There, Zero Dark Thirty, as Carol in Where The Wild Things Are and most recently as a dick of a casino owner in The Incredible Burt Wonderstone. I truly enjoyed seeing him in these anti-mob roles, interviews because it showed me what a soft spoken person he was and what a true talent we had and have lost. But to think a man could play a pornographer, a dick general, a man lying about his military experience, Leon Panetta and well a Wild Thing in a ten year span but once we heard the opening bass line of A3’s Woke Up This Morning he transformed into Tony Soprano. I couldn't understand why this man whom I only knew via 40 inch televisions or 30 foot movie screens touched myself and so many until my wife said, "I actually expected to see him again before some family members" and I was taken aback by that thought. Though it may be via media because of distance or busy lives there's a great chance we would see Mr. Gandolfini again before we may have seen some of our own family members. I don’t know how much truth there was to it but it’s rumored that he had a Twitter Account and his only Tweet was “call me James, call me Jim, call me Jim but I’m not Tony”. On that note I say Rest In Peace, James. Now Follow Me, Follow Me To Freedom!

FIRST WORLD MEET THIRD WORLD

I had just heard a bit of disheartening unrelated, news myself, so—for lack of a better phrase-- I wasn’t in the mood. When it was brought to my attention my heart sunk like someone told me my children had been injured. I’ve never felt like that about a news event before, don’t know why, but I did and I just wanted to avoid it. But in the 21st century that’s sometimes difficult, between the tweets, the status updates— even my ESPN app that was sending updates to me every few minutes. Two homemade bombs had been detonated at the finish line of the Boston Marathon. I channel surfed through the local, national and cable channels to see the many news, cell phone and home videos of the first bomb detonating. I was quickly reminded of a day in 2001, as I held on to my then nine month old for hours and watched what seemed like a constant loop of the planes hitting the twin towers. I immediately turned the coverage off, as I didn’t want relive that in seeing the second or third bomb detonating. I expected nothing but an endless loop of destruction and news anchors searching for the words, like children playing Marco Polo, over the same fifty three seconds of footage. Not to mention the soon to come, “Terror In Boston “, graphics and morose, accompanying theme music. As time passed, scrolling across the bottom of all networks were incremental increases in the injured and death toll. We would learn that 176 people had been injured and 3 people killed, one being an 8 year old boy awaiting his father’s finish in the marathon. The narrative for this incident was on lock. If anything I was happy to see my many social media friends on both sides of the aisle posting Pray For Boston and other supportive phrases for Beantown, whatever that can do for the human spirit. With this usual ‘falling into ranks as one’ unity, we’ve seen with past disasters in this country, I began to have that sense of despite all everything is going to be okay. Boston is resilient. Americans are resilient. Periodically hearing native Bostonians in those classic accents saying things like “Ain’t no ter-rah-wrists knaucking us down!”. I was briefly on some “Red, White and Blue, these colors don’t run” stuff. It wasn’t until I saw two photos. One was of a man, being pushed in a wheelchair from the bombing site by two marathon viewers and a first responder running with them. The man in the wheelchair was covered in ash, his feet had been completely blown off and his splintered bloody tibias and fibulas stuck out from his knees. The other was of bloodied people lying on the ground just after the explosion. One man was on the ground in a fetal position and he too had his foot completely blown off and his fibula was bloodied and completely free of skin and muscle as in the first photo. These images reminded me of so many seen after Middle East bombings on a random bus or in an open air market. You know the ones we ignore because there are no American casualties and go on with our First World problems, like ‘what Olivia Pope did on Scandal’, ‘the new changes to Facebook’ or the latest Kimye sighting. This chicken shit act, be it foreign or domestic, was not the Twin Towers or OKC and I’m not lessening those acts but it happened in a very random area like a bazaar or a bus. As some have said, ‘you can’t totally police 26 square miles’, just like you can’t police, do a bomb sweep and background check on every random bus, cafe or open air bazaar like in the Middle East. I didn’t know why this act of cowardice had struck me so initially but now I knew. And while I can’t find the probably the best words, I feel the playing field has been leveled or lowered. Either way the Terror in Boston now feels just like the Terror in Tehran. As much Dennis Rodman’s new friend, Kim Jong threatens us with Armageddon like weapons, I wasn’t concerned. As much as I hear the ghetto bird flying around my neighborhood and have to lock my yard as a precautionary measure, I wasn’t concerned. But these photos, that I had seen so many times in my life, in some form or fashion, were displaying global style random violence here in the USA. As many times I’ve heard the phrase “our lives have changed forever’, I didn’t truly buy into it. But on this solemn day in Boston I did. And now I’m concerned. Now Follow Me! Follow Me to freedom

AMAZING IS EVERYWHERE (OR HOW I ENJOYED THE TOURNAMENT)

The nets have been cut down. Coach Pitino was scared sh**less by what he thought were gun shots and the Louisville Cardinals have prevailed as the last man standing in the field of 64 (I know it’s 68 but I like 64) or as it’s been called March Madness. This year’s tournament has never seen as many low seeds win, #1 seeds fall so soon or get upsets. Yet, all I’ve heard are sports pundits and talking heads on sports talk radio and TV say this tournament isn’t valid because of so many ‘one and done’ kids leaving after one year of school for the NBA. I actually heard sports personality, Dan Patrick, whom I actually like, say, “The Cinderella teams are great for the first two rounds but after the Sweet 16 we need the college powerhouses, the Dukes, the Michigans, the Jayhawks and the Louisvilles.” Dan this is the tournament for which you base your daily argument for a college football playoff system. Why is the tournament so great? Because it is not a beauty contest, it is one team strapping up just like any other team and when the dust settles, one is the victor. It doesn’t get any more primal than that. People, aka spoiled Americans, you can’t clamor for upsets and then get pissed when you get them When I hear the many complaints about this tourney I can’t help but ask “What else do you want? Do you want to have your cake, eat it, and crap it and hope it smells like lilac?” To those who say the competitive level of basketball is off isn’t watching. Parity has been created in the tournament because the rosters of the normal powerhouses are revolving doors to the NBA and the mid majors and small schools are littered with players that the powers rejected. The rosters of these smaller teams remain and grow together as teams, so when these teams meet the Blue Chip mega teams that just met at registration, it’s an equation for an upset loss. That doesn’t make the quality of basketball bad, it just doesn’t make it the outcome you’re used to or wanted to see. Universities with nine figure athletic complexes, top flight medical staffs, the best equipment and 5 star, blue chip athletes are losing to teams with weight rooms no larger than studio apartments. They’re grabbing the athletes, the powerhouse schools rejected and coming to win, as Florida Gulf Coast, Harvard and ninth seeded, Wichita State came to do. When will we be able to see the amazing that took place in this tournament or the amazing things that happen in daily life? A few weeks ago, it rained and I saw a rainbow, not a small portion, no a rainbow that stretched and arched across the sky. Many may have seen that before, but I had not and I appreciated despite the fact I didn’t find a little man wearing green with a pot of gold. But someone will find a way to be dismissive about it. Did you know that the same amount of technology you’re using in your 3G cell phone was more than the energy used to get Apollo 11 to the moon? Wrap your head around that. Folks complain about their iPhone not updating Facebook quick enough and Neil Armstrong was just praying that the same technology to sling him and his crew around the dark side of the moon. We’ve been spoiled and we just ignore things and don’t take them in for what they’re worth. We just witnessed a tournament in which every round leading up to the Final game tonight had at least one surprise teams. The ninth ranked Wichita State Shockers, shocked the world by getting to the semi-finals and as some think they could’ve beat Louisville if not for any last minute costly mistakes. The film Jurassic Park recently re-opened in 3D and picked up a cool eighteen million dollars. Hollywood executives are expressing disappointment in this opening. Really? Your company just picked up 18 million dollars for a 20 year old movie that recreated the effing, dinosaurs. The T-Rex hasn’t existed for 65 million got damn years old but it does now on screen and movies . No recollection but some wayward drawings, no photos to recreate them and we believed them, wholeheartedly. Still not enough, we’ve got to seem them in 3D, coming out the got damn screen giving grandparents heart attacks. As simple as those acts were, they were amazing, as many other thing are if you just take the time and look. I honestly don’t know why I wrote this entry but it’s one before Now Follow Me! Follow Me To Freedom!

THE BALCONY IS TRULY, CLOSED

“I respectfully and totally disagree with you, Gene.” Those would be the first of many firm words, directed at film critic Gene Siskel, I would hear from Chicago Sun Times film critic Roger Ebert. At the time televised, entertainment in my home consisted of the three major networks, the UHF channel reserved for reruns and the publicly supported PBS. Roger and film critic Gene Siskel were arguing about a film, which one I couldn’t recall, and I marveled at this because to date I had never seen this. Film reviews and criticism were reserved to the always annoyed Rex Reed and the heavily mustached Gene Shalit. I’d never seen people disagreeing about a film and it was interesting. I can’t say that it was Soprano’s-like appointment TV for me. It was more like I wasn’t old enough to go out and my Saturday nights consisted of regional wrestling, Miami Vice and in between them, At The Movies as a transition. But as a teenager, I would find myself delaying my weekend evenings in the NOLA streets to take in their half hour of discourse. I liked to hear both of their opinions but from the start Roger always seemed to look at all films more objectively, while performing this ostensibly subjective task. If he disliked a film he could always give you some kind of bright spot within the opus, for he respected the art form and all filmmakers efforts. Roger felt if he was going to criticize filmmakers he had least needed to attempt to be one. He would go on to scribe the sequel to Valley Of The Dolls, which was appropriately titled Beyond the Valley of the Dolls. Roger himself would give the film a patented “thumbs down”. That is why so many filmmakers respected Ebert’s opinion. He had danced with devil, been in the trenches or whatever hyperbole or analogy used by filmmakers likening themselves to Gulf War veterans. Roger was passionate and seemed to embrace the new films, new filmmakers and new advances in the medium as much as he welcomed new works by seasoned filmmakers. Plain and simple Roger just dug film. He’s said before and I’m paraphrasing, “Film is about a visceral feeling. Be it a big budget film or small independent film. It makes you feel.” And with this train of thought Roger had no problem embracing the big budget film, which I think your more erudite film critics knocked on him. But it’s also this train of thought that which made his embrace films from all points of views. I recall when Spike Lee’s SHE’S GOTTA HAVE IT opened in theaters, I didn’t know what to expect from Siskel or Ebert from this film I had already seen five times. Roger raved about this film as being a refreshing point of view of black culture from black people instead of white people. He would champion many black films in the future, one being the controversial DO THE RIGHT THING. Roger has always championed films starring people of color as just films, as all filmmakers want, and not some celluloid aberrations. You could see his passion as he stood in defense of Asian American director Justin Lin’s debut feature, BETTER LUCK TOMORROW at the Sundance Film Festival. A Caucasian man complimented the film, but questioned it's negative portrayals of Asian Americans. Ebert defiantly yelled across the theater in the Q & A, "What I find very offensive and condescending about your comment is that nobody would say to a bunch of white filmmakers, 'How could you do this to your people?' This film has the right to be. And be whatever the hell they want the characters to be." That is who he and he didn't give a damn what your color was. His partner in crime, Gene Siskel would sadly leave us in 1999 due to a brain tumor. After his death, Roger would have others fill in for Gene, but he would never find that same healthy debate. Gene made Roger good and Roger made Gene good. It was like any classic battles, Russell and Chamberlain on the court, Brady and Manning on the field, Steve Harvey and tasteful clothes in public. But with Gene’s death, Roger’s sun would shine brighter as a critic. And as the years progressed and film critics speaking at length with the filmmakers regressed into five minutes at press junkets, Roger stayed true to the form. Roger said, “I’m glad I don’t live in Los Angeles. I wouldn’t want relationships with the filmmakers, because it makes it hard to review their films.” Roger would be stricken with cancer in the last few years. He would literally lose his voice and some of his jaw but it did not slow him down. His voice became even louder, via his website and Twitter account, as he was still reviewing over three hundred movies a year. As evidenced by the reaction and outpouring to his death, he will be missed and remembered. I toast you Roger Ebert for seeing black films as just films with black people and being one half of ground zero of film debate. Now Follow Me! Follow Me to Freedom!

KEEPING IT ONE HUN'ID (100%)

"Let me tell you somethin!" That was the signature catch phrase of Fire Marshall Bill. One of Jim Carrey's many characters on the popular 90's sketch show In Living Color. When I was first introduced to that character, I did not know what to make of it but I stayed with Jim because of the energy he put into that character. He was manic and going one hundred miles per hour in his performance. But that is how he was with all his characters, even secondary characters in a sketch. If he played Ricky Ricardo in a sketch titled I LOVE LAQUITA, he didn't play Ricky, he WAS Ricky. If he played a nine year old sitting on Homey D. Clown's lap, he was an annoying 9 year old with all the bells, whistles and ticks of a 9 year old kid. I've been revisiting the canon of Jim Carrey because I recently saw the film, THE INCREDIBLE BURT WONDERSTONE, in which Jim played a goth-type, self inflicting pain magician against Steve Carell's titular Burt Wonderstone. The movie going crowd was sparse and I would say the laughs the returned to the screen were too. But for me, when there were laughs it was for Jim Carrey who was going all out to make us laugh. Be it, acting as if he held his urine for eleven straight days or periodically screaming bloody murder because he was sleeping on hot coals. My personal favorite drilling a hole in his head with an actual power drill. It was a truly silly film in the vein of Austin Powers but it was funny in my humble opinion. Now I may be talking matinee or "dollar show" funny, only because it costs to go to the movie in this economy. Even if it's a blockbuster, I get pissed about the prices. Hell, I'm still upset about the money I dropped on The Avengers, but that's another time, another blog. After the film, I went home to see the reviews of the film and as I thought they were not all positive, but despite the negativity they all spoke of Jim Carrey's 'balls to the wall', 'gonzo' performance as this David Blaine/Criss Angel type street magician. Mind you if you surf the web of recent and Jim Carrey has been placed into the elephant graveyard right next to one Edward Reagan Murphy aka Eddie Murphy to us non Murphy family members. I then perused Carrey's filmography. Each and every performance I recalled and there was not one performance, no matter how poorly the film did financially, did Diamond Jim Carrey phone his performance in. As much as I want to say Eddie has never phoned in a performance, there are a few where he looked like he was doing his "tough street brother" schtick from a villa in Monte Carlo. But trust me Eddie belongs in the hashtag-underappreciated category too. But back to Jim, be it Lemony Snickets, Bruce Almighty, The Grinch, a cameo on The Office or just accepting an MTV Movie Award like a Jim Morrison knock off-- the dude puts in work on any character he does. I guess I've always appreciated him, even his dramatic work, which I suggest you screen Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, Man On the Moon or The Majestic. All three are earnest performances, The Majestic is a throwback to the Billy wilder films of days gone by and has a bit of treacle with no cutter, but nonetheless James dives into the character. No matter, what acting choices he took, he TOOK them and as my old football coaches would say, "Even if you're doing it wrong, just give me 100%." And that's what Jim does. I wrote this entry because in a general sense I try to appreciate people before their photo is over the shoulder of a newscaster reporting their death. On a micro level, I appreciate that Jim knows he is paid handsomely for what he does and like him or hate him he tries to give you your money's worth if possible. Jimbo keeps it hun'id! Now Follow Me! Follow Me to Freedom!

FIFTY SHADES OF GAY? (OR I HIT A WALL ON A TITLE)

I know people falling on both sides of the latest Washington, DC battle, which is the Supreme Court’s hearing arguments on California’s Proposition 8, which bans same sex marriage. I don’t believe all people who disagree with same sex marriage hate the gay community. Though I’ve seen a few on TV declaring gay people have an express line to a horrific afterlife, be it in a burning cavern, a TSA line or listening to Gangnam Style forever on loop. I also don’t think being gay means you can force religions to change their thousands years old practices, beliefs and sometimes questionable mandates. Can someone say no pork, shellfish and tattoos? Me thinks the entire NBA is going straight to Hell on The Surf N Turf Tattoo Express. I believe in life there are no absolutes, there is no black and white, there are only shades of grey – please no 50 Shades of Grey book jokes (they’re not tired, just not humorous). First of all, in general I believe Prop 8 and DOMA should be knocked down. Why? Because this is a human rights issue —plain and simple-- and not an issue of one type of union desecrating or killing another type of union. Because if that were the case, Elizabeth Taylor, Kim Kardashian, Jerry Springer guests and numerous abusive relationships have already put the act of marriage on a life support machine. Gay couples only want the same rights that heterosexual couples already possess via marriage. When I say marriage, I mean the union, the legal contract and NOT the religious sacrament as mentioned in various religious tomes. Heaven forbid, if a gay member of the military gets killed in battle, I know their significant other would like to be immediately alerted to that fact. Presently, due to DOMA and Section 3 of Prop 8 that would not happen. Can you imagine learning, in a roundabout, secondhand manner, that the person you deeply loved, and shared a life for years, has been killed? Yeah, I thought you’d feel that way. While we are all not Christian, Jewish, Muslim or any other so-called religion but we can all claim VIP membership in the human race. When you belong to the country club you’re entitled to juice bar, sauna and tennis court privileges as everyone else. These couples are not asking to have the Christian, Jewish or Muslim faiths change their steelo for anybody. They are only asking for the rights they are entitled to as human beings. Many years ago, the thought of an African American person marrying a Caucasian person was considered perverse. As time has passed, the world has discovered that an interracial marriage is not a union created by Lucifer. Low and behold our president, of these Unite States, is the product of a union that would once be called deviant and illegal in many of this country’s southern states. I will admit as a child I had antiquated views on the gay community but with time and growth I’ve become quite the hypocrite (in a good way). This happened because my views are completely different in my understanding of the gay community, for which I now have friends. Many, may not be as I am to see the plight of the gay community through rainbow colored glasses. I now see that they want nothing more than to live a life with the people they want to love, raise a family and provide security and health benefits as most people do. Mother Teresa said once, “If you judge people, you have no time to love them.” And if I’ve heard anything from religion and rappers going on trial, “Only God Can Judge”. Now Follow Me! Follow Me To Freedom!

ROZAY + WEEZY(STUDIO TIME) = IGNORANCE

Rappers Rick Ross and Young Money CEO, Lil’ Wayne in recent months have respectively dropped some new verses that don’t toe the line, they run totally past it without any recognition that the line even exists. Rick Rozay AKA William Leonard Roberts AKA The Dude with Presidents Lincoln and Washington tattooed on his breasts (because that’s what they are) does a guest spot on Def Jam emcee Rocko’s, “You Don’t Even Know It”. This former corrections officer rhymes, “Put molly all in her champagne, she ain’t even know it/ I took her home and I enjoyed that, she ain’t even know it.” This man, who took the moniker of former crack dealer Freeway Ricky Ross’ as his stage name, states that he slipped a “molly” into a woman’s drink. There’s no question here, a "molly" is a rape drug not a pain reliever a ****ing drug used to make violating women easier and big man Rick is bragging about it. If there’s any question of Ricky’s intention, he follows up with a line stating that “I took her home and I enjoyed that, she ain’t even know it”. He is now bragging that he had his way with the woman and she was all the ignorant to the violation of her body due to her drugged state. Now I am not calling Mr. Roberts a rapist but he is a man, who is for sure perpetuating pure unadulterated rape to a young group of his followers, who sometimes cannot decipher between right and wrong. Then again, it’s quite obvious that Rozay Rapey cannot decipher between right and wrong either. Then there’s New Orleans lost child and ‘rapper’, Lil Wayne AKA Dwayne Michael Carter, showing his talent for hyperbole, who rhymed, on the remix of Karate Chop that he, “Beat the p**** up like Emmett Till”. He actually compared his sexual skills to the senseless beating of a 14 year old boy, whose only crime was being a black boy admiring a white girl. Since Weezy —-by his own estimation -– is the Greatest rapper… alive. I can’t comprehend what would not make him feel a tad queasy about this phrasing when the image of Emmett Till’s battered body is conjured up. Then again I shouldn’t really expect responsibility from a man, who regularly intakes codeine for sport and has four children by four different women. He can't control his penis, I can't expect the same of his mouth. I guess I have one real question, on the lyrics of Fatman & Stripe. Between the CD pressing plant, the final mix of the songs, the ad-lib pass, the 1st take, the smoking of weed and drinking of cognac at 2AM in the studio; did anyone think to say ‘Weezy you might not want to compare the thrusting of your penis to savage beating of a child’ or ‘Rozay you might not want to imply that you drugged and raped a woman’. Can hip hop get a licensed, non-partisaned lyric monitor (no coast or area affiliation) to just be brutally honest with ignorant emcees who are surrounded by a bunch of yes men? Because just because something sounds clever, doesn’t mean that it is. Now Follow Me. Follow Me to Freedom!

MARCH MEDIOCRITY OR MARCH MAGIC

What the (insert proper curse word here) is a Florida Gulf Coast University?! That was the phrase exclaimed at TV’s across the nation by casual bracketers, college basketball fans, and Vegas gamblers after the many unexpected upsets took place during the first few rounds of the NCAA Men’s basketball tournament. One of the larger upsets has to be the revered and feared, #2 seeded Georgetown Hoyas of NW Washington DC getting smashed from beginning to final buzzer by upstart college Florida Gulf Coast University (they have yet to yet to celebrate a silver anniversary) and neophyte basketball program (its 2nd year of post season eligibility). Georgetown University is 224 years old and has been a national basketball powerhouse since the early 1980’s birthed by one John Thompson, which makes it so sad, that it’s being buried by his son, John Thompson III. But let us not pull focus on the Hoyas, there were a few highly seeded programs that were upended, such as, the #12 seeded LaSalle beating Kansas State, #12 Ole Miss beating #5 Wisconsin, #1 seeded Gonzaga Zags were scared by HBCU Southern University (GO JAGS) and they were literally shocked with a loss to the #9 seeded Wichita Shockers and my personal favorite, the #14 Harvard Crimson triumphing over Lobos of the #3 seeded University of New Mexico. As I browse the many forms of media, I sense an overwhelming feeling of contempt for the parity in this year’s tournament. Which begs the “what in the hell do you want America?” This is the tournament we’ve been asking for all of our lives. Unexplainable, blue collar, ‘I ain’t scurred’, ‘little engine that could’ teams making national powers publicly cry for which we we’ve got no answer. The term “March Madness” wasn’t coined because highly seeded collegiate basketball teams demolish lower seeded teams as expected. No, it was created because of the maddening confusion in these David versus Goliath wins. That is the beauty of the race to the Final Four. The BS sports writer fueled speculation, seeding based on the regular season or conference tournament wins doesn’t matter. As long as you’re one of the 68 teams chosen, your five players, just line up against another five players for 48 minutes and whoever has more points at the final buzzer advances to the next round. We’ve seen these teams throughout the years of this fabled tournament. Matter of fact, they have their own special nickname, ‘Cinderrella’. We’ve seen them before, The Cleveland States, the Richmond Spiders, the VCU’s, the Murray States, the George Masons and presently, the mighty Eagles of Florida Gulf Coast University (est 1991). Each year we see that one Cinderella team go deep in the tourney only to have the glass slipper turn into a pumpkin soon but this year we’ve had numerous David like teams beat highly seeded Goliaths and we need to enjoy this. Matter of fact we’ve lived long enough to see a perennial, Cinderella team in Gonzaga University develop into #1 seeded program. Yet, I hear and read the complaints from fans and media, ‘it’s not the same quality of college basketball as in years past’. Two years ago, a Butler Bulldog program came within one great looking, half-court shot, of a national championship over Duke. Did we see a Duke basketball team on the decline or a Butler program on the rise? I believe we saw the playing field finally leveling off, where seeds may be nothing but a number in the future. In era of ‘one-and-done’, the 5 star blue chip athletes are going to the Dukes, the Kentuckys, the Carolinas and other national powers with no intent on staying and the players that these national powers pass on go to smaller schools with the intent on staying for more than a year. These athletes who could be playing multiple years for these national powers are playing together for years at these mid majors and raising the level of play on those campuses. National powers are annually having their team rhythm and development interrupted by the defection of a ‘one-and-done’ player to the NBA. Prior to the ‘one-and-done’ exodus we saw young talented teams grow into very formidable collegiate lineups, as we saw with Georgetown in the 80’s or Duke in the 90’s. Well now it just happens at the Butlers, the George Masons and the VCU’s are doing it. It's like we cheer for the little man to make the climb but once he gets his fingers to the top of the mountain we want to step on his hand. People have complained for years about predictability of the tourney and people are now complaining about the upsets while witnessing may be the greatest NCAA tournament in history. Call me crazy, but if Creighton, LaSalle, Miami and Florida Gulf Coast make it to the Final Four, I’m booking a flight to the ATL. Now Follow Me. Follow Me to Freedom.