Rum, Frank the Tank and Girl Scout Cookies

The game clock shows 2.3 seconds.

I've seen the video replayed for the tenth time and still the referees are huddled together looking closely at the monitors.  Either they are terribly inept or are looking for something that I can't see.  The rules state that it can't be overturned without indisputable evidence.  How can you look at something for five minutes and claim anything is indisputable?  Doesn't make sense.

Speaking of senses, mine are at their outer limits as we await the referee's decision.  Two days of watching exciting basketball -- many of them  determined by a single possession of the ball -- have tightened my neck and back muscles to the point of breaking.  My heart has been in my throat more often than food.  If someone doesn't make a decision soon, I think I'll fall over dead.

As time slows to an unbearable crawl, the referee turns to the camera and says, "Possession goes to Arizona!"

This past weekend is one that will remain lodged in my mind -- and stomach -- for many years. 

We have been having a blast in Chicago with Liz's brother, sister-in-law and family watching the Wisconsin Badgers and Arizona Wildcats knock each other silly for the last four quarters, plus. 

The room is an obstacle course as I pace back and forth in front of the television.  Without a thought, I step over a variety of toys, including Legos and Barbie accessories, a blanket that has managed to find its way around the house all day, and our favorite mascot for the day -- Daisy.

In my hand is my usual rum and ginger ale.  Only this time there is something special waiting in the wings.  Earlier in the day, Eric, Liz and I had stepped into Binny's Beverage Depot to buy some wine for the night.  Much to my surprise -- sitting on a shelf in the rum section -- was one of the most glorious sights one could ever see.  Like Charlie Brown in his Christmas special doing a double take at the little Christmas tree that had become beautiful, I bend over in disbelief at a brown bottle of 15-year old, imported Ron Matuseum Gran Reserva rum.

"What... is... this?"  I mumble to no one in particular, reaching for the bottle.  Sure enough, it's the real deal.  In my hands is a bottle of rum that has found a way to elude me for most of the last 25 years.  On a spring break trip to the Bahamas in the early 80's, three friends and I spent a sun-filled week disposing of 15 bottles of Gran Reserva.  Not once did I get sick or even wake up the following morning with a hangover.  And if I did, it was because of the Corona beer that had also found its way into my body.

Once, I was able to find a bottle in South Carolina; another time I discovered it in a Mexican airport, and recently a friend and I ordered a case from a distributor in Texas.  Otherwise, I have scoured every liquor store I walk into only to find nothing that comes close to tasting as good as my boy, Ron.

This is a good sign for tonight's basketball game, I think.  If the Badgers win, it'll be shots all around.  With two bottles in hand, I head for the checkout fearful that somehow they will vanish from my grasp like a fragile sand dollar sinking into the salty Atlantic Ocean.



With under five minutes remaining in the game, Frank -- the Tank -- Kaminsky steps back for a three point basket that would give the Badgers a lead they would not lose.  And though Arizona would tie the game three more times in regulation and overtime, the Wildcats would not lead again.  

While other Badgers were timid with their shots, or passed the ball to other players, Frank was aggressive from the start.  At one point, "the Tank" was scoring under the basket with an awkward-looking hook, the next minute he was boxing out and putting back the rebound.  There were stretches in the Oregon, Baylor and Arizona games where he was the only Badger to put the ball in the basket, an indication of the match-up nightmare he was being for those unfortunate enough to guard him.

After the game, Frank Kaminsky was named the West Regional most valuable player, an honor that many, including himself, couldn't have imagined only a few months earlier.  How was it possible for the Badger's seven foot center who had scored a total of 133 points the previous year, to score a total of 66 points in just his last three games? 

A product of Lisle, IL, Kaminsky came to the Badgers as a typical Wisconsin recruit.  That meant that he was probably white, had a high basketball IQ, could shoot from outside the arc, and would put the team before himself.  Coach Ryan's system is often viewed as "old school" where you play solid basketball with ball fakes, solid passing and shut down defense.

Badger ball is a far cry from the likes of our next opponent, Kentucky.  While Bo recruits good players who develop through their senior season, Kentucky's coach sells the program on being a pathway to the NBA.  Instead of players that stick around for 3 or 4 years, Kentucky focuses on one-and-done, McDonald's All-Americans that attend school to play basketball and leave as quickly as March Madness has ended.

It's a debate that many are having this year -- the matchup between Bo's student athletes and Kentucky's one year NBA development players -- and this weekend's Final Four game will probably not provide an answer.  This much is known -- Kentucky's been to the Final Four three times in the last four years.  This is Wisconsin's first visit to the Big Dance since 2000 with coach Dick Bennett.

So it feels to me like this is a much bigger deal to Wisconsin than it is to Kentucky.  How have we been able to do it?

With Kaminsky leading the way in the second half , Wisconsin's starting five have found a way to play more up tempo including lots of three point attempts.  Our defense has become more defined, and every night it seems like someone else contributes a key basket to win the game.  There are very few big men, like "the Tank," who can take you off the dribble and pound it home or pull back for a long three to win the game.  The combination of Kaminsky and guards that can shoot has allowed Wisconsin to take down Michigan State, Florida, Virginia, Michigan Baylor and Arizona.  That's a collection of some of the best basketball programs in the country today.

And when it comes to basketball, it doesn't get any better than that.



The final buzzer sounds as Johnson's shot bounces harmlessly off the backboard.  Badger players run across the court leaping into the air and giving high fives.

Sharon and Liz and I are doing our own hugging and jumping for joy, oblivious to the terrified dog who thinks her world has just ended.  Colin heads off toward the dining room looking for his dad, who has decided it's best if he's not around to see the final minutes of the game.  Put a difficult real estate deal in front of Eric and he's cool with it.  But don't expect there to be any room for error if it's the Badgers or Packers.  Pity the poor child that has to hear the expletives coming from his mouth if things aren't going well.

But tonight, there is no reason to feel bad about the Badgers' effort.  

Having dispatched Arizona in an overtime thriller, Wisconsin is headed to Dallas for the Final Four.  Let me say that again:  THE FINAL FOUR.  Like the fine taste of the Gran Reserva rum flooding my system, those three words are intoxicating.  Like going to the Super Bowl -- no WINNING the Super Bowl -- there is nothing quit like surviving a last second shot in overtime to get to the pinnacle of college basketball.

As I head out into the kitchen to pour a few glasses of rum on ice, I spot a box of girl scout cookies lying on the countertop.

It was a typical night when Liz's niece called asking us to buy some girl scout cookies.  Jacqueline has the distinction of being the top seller of cookies in her troop (selling more than 250 boxes this year alone), and she's accomplished that feat by calling in favors from family members near and far.

Over the years we have bought the insanely delicious cookies from co-workers, neighbors and stopped at grocery stores selling them as you walk in.  I always look forward to buying them from Jacqueline because I know it helps her troop and it's fun giving her a hard time.  But I must admit, as a 9 (now 10-year old) she does a pretty good job of deflecting our jabs and getting us to order more cookies each year she calls.

The only downside to buying cookies from her is that she lives in Chicago.  Which means sometimes we don't get to eat them for months.  Sometimes half a year.  Thank the cookie gods that they can be put in the freezer for safe keeping.  Depending on where you put them in the freezer, it is possible to forget about them for weeks.  Or even months.  And doesn't it feel like Christmas again when you discover a frosty box of Thin Mints tucked in the back while looking for the frozen Tilapia?

When we are able to pick up our haul of cookies depends on when we can get down to see her family (usually around the time "March Madness" begins because that is when we go down to celebrate Jacqueline's birthday).  I've got some of the best memories of post-season Badger basketball when we are together, including a school record 13-point rally when they defeated Tulsa (watched from a bar during a 2004 early round victory).

But nothing will top the fun we had this year watching the Badgers take home the West regional trophy.  That game will be remembered for a long, long time.  Long after Jacqueline stops calling us about girl scout cookies.



Eric and I are sitting in our chairs, enjoying the taste of our rum, when the calm that fills the near-empty room is broken by Charles Barkley saying, "... just terrible!  These Badgers are good enough that they could beat the Milwaukee Bucks by ten points!"  

I'm not sure if that's a compliment to the Badgers or a slam against the Bucks.  Maybe both.

Either way, we are listening to the various pundits on CBS and the Big Ten channel talk about the game's exciting finish, the controversial foul and the overturned out-of-bounds play.  The television casts a surreal light about the darkened room highlighting empty glasses and a plastic sleeve that contained girl scout cookies just a few minutes before.

The television is showing a video of Bo Ryan cutting down the net -- something I never thought I'd see again.  I wonder if my smile is as big as Bo's, who has never taken the Badgers to the Final Four.  I can't imagine the years he has put into his profession, the miles he has traveled by bus and plane, or the number of players he has coached to reach this point.  

Ever year it is the goal of 351 schools in 33 Division I basketball conferences to see their names listed as one of the Final Four.  And every year it has ended for 347 of them.  This year the Wisconsin Badgers are not one of them.  

Regardless of what happens against Kentucky this weekend, this team has found its way into the hearts of millions of fans -- especially the heart of someone who loves rum and girl scout cookies while visiting family in Chicago on a cold March night.