It was late, I had laid down with my three year old who was a bit frightened by the thunder. The thunder I took as an ominous sign of things to come as the Championship game got underway.

After awhile I switched to doing the dishes which had piled up, but before doing so went ahead and surfed to espn.com to keep an eye on the clicker - I’m far from the biggest basketball fan but I am a Jayhawk, and I did grow up here.

Twenty years ago I got out of school after we won the Championship, I was nine. Now I’m 29 with two kids and a full load of homework and dishes, and I still don’t mind missing a day of school.

So in between wash loads I would dry my hands, eat a left over sour-flavoured skittle from my Christmas stocking, and check the score. I was glad I wasn’t watching the game. As little as I usually care, I tend to get a bit worked up, especially during close games. Mind you: I haven’t seen a second of footage. My game experience was watching the ESPN clicker tell me who fouled who scored and who timed-out.

As I sat and watched the two little score lines wind their way up point by excruciating point, I began to get nervous. With 10 seconds on the clock I hung my head and said aloud “We’re not going to win.”

Then page refreshed, and I read the fateful words “Mario Chalmers made a three-point Jumper”

NO F-ING WAY.

As I sit and type this, screams and fireworks are beginning to pierce the night. And I’m putting my homework away, because I’m sleeping in.

Thanks for that, Bill, Mario and Company. Well done.

Be safe and stay classy everyone, I’m turning in for the night.

The Black Rabbit