Once again that unfathomable result from Big D Little a Double ll a S:
Louisville 98, Southern Methodist 73.
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Pro forma self indulgent intro:
Alright, where were we?
That’s right, I was falling into sleep deprivation mode, my already addled mind was checking out, me fingers was freezing.
So I cut GameCap short. Shut it down. Knowing if I dreamt at all, if I dreamt about SMU, it would be last night’s wünderbar smackaround, not that ’67 comeuppance.
Actually, I kinda dreamt about last night’s W. Sorta.
In dreams, I decided to go off honky tonkin’ into the night to celebrate the W. Like it was Back in the Day or something. At one place, the barkeep yelled out, “I was worried at the half, but we did OK.”
“Uh,” I corrected, “We were up 23 at the break.”
(Should have been 25, but Chucky Hepburn had his one and only brain fart of the night. Committed his 2d foul with seconds to play on a silly reach in, surrendering two FTs. Chucky, we need you to always be available. Be wise. Be insured.)
Still in slumber, I sauntered through a restaurant owned by a friend. She wondered, “Whatever are you smiling about, I can’t imagine.”
Grinning she threw up the L sign.
Then I awakened as I did way too often on the really frigid night.
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Now the grist, a few more takeaways on the game. Continue reading Seedy’s Second Helping: SMU