This is the best time. The time when all hype ceases. The time when we can stop laughing at news releases about whom Floyd Mayweather Jr. is picking to win the NBA championship or how he thinks the NFL Draft might take shape, because we are still searching to locate one soul on earth who waited for those pearls.
It seems we have put the whole build-it-and-they-will-come theory on a permanent hiatus, because the odds of a new ballpark being raised for the 51s any time soon probably rivals that of Oscar Goodman giving up the hard stuff for good.
Matt Shaw has said he can one day picture himself on the big screen as a comedic actor, that he is always watching movies and reciting lines from them.
Every once in a while, if you search closely and without bias, you can discover it.
Brett Wallace can’t remember the last time expectations didn’t sit atop his shoulders on a baseball field. Maybe in T-ball, when coaches and teammates and parents probably thought his hits should one-hop the schoolyard fence instead of flying over it.
At his lowest point, his gut still churning from what could have been and from all the empty possessions, his mind still watching the flight of a half-court shot that would have changed his and the lives of his players forever, Butler coach Brad Stevens spoke for college basketball fans everywhere.
It would have been the greatest shot in college basketball history. Maybe basketball history.
