Students stand in the sold out Conte Forum arena, jittering and rubbing their hands together in anticipation. The buzzer sounds, and the entirety of the student body blasts its way through the hulking security guards and rejoice with the Boston College basketball team on the hardwood, reveling in the mastery of another massive upset at the hands of the Eagles.
Coming into the conference rivalry showdown with Duke, Boston College was all tied up with Virginia Tech in the ACC men’s NCAA basketball standings . . . for last place. No one gave the determined squad a "Seth McFarlane's leading a Feminist Liberation Movement march" chance , but, with about a minute to go, the soaring Eagles battled to control the game and managed to put away the #4 ranked Duke.
With 26 seconds remaining, Mason Plumlee missed the second of two late free throws—due to the deafening crowd at the Chestnut Hill court—with the Eagles manhandling the Blue Devils’ frontcourt to come down with a huge rebound, giving Boston College the final shot, the game tied 61-61. The team looked like men amongst boys coming out of the timeout, pumping up the crowd with flapping arms, resembling the golden Eagles brandished on their magnificent jerseys, swooping in on the attack.
Olivier Hanlan initiated with just under ten seconds remaining, driving to the basket with complete disregard for his own health.
Suddenly, he stepped back, separating himself from Duke guard, Rasheed Sulaimon, and put up a shot from just inside the foul line.
“And . . . It’s . . . GOOD!” (says every sportscaster across the nation, who have all tuned in to watch the majestic Eagles in a glorious David vs. Goliath effort)
Of those rushing the court, there were none more elated then “Donahue’s Disciples,” those enthusiastic students at every home and cross-town game, expressing unwavering allegiance to Coach Steve Donahue since his hiring. This moment has always been their raison d’être.
One follower even claimed after the game that his life was complete—after briefly embracing Ryan Anderson before being peeled off—and would now be moving to Tibet to carry out the remainder of his life in seclusion, happy as a Labrador with seven tennis balls.
At a press conference after the upset, media correspondents caught up with Duke's Coach K. He said of the game, “I laud BC’s work ethic, team work and handsomeness. Those are some great looking kids out there, way better looking then anyone that’s come through my program. Man, wish I had someone like that Anderson kid."
After the game, elated students and weeping alumni waited, peering at the exit of Conte Forum for the victorious gladiators to emerge. The performance was one which evoked the desire for a cigarette afterwards. Then, they emerged, led by their fearless general, coach Steve Donahue; an eruption of applause and cheers, followed by spectators dropped down to hands and knees before them, BC brass pumping “the D’s” hands, several suit-wearing executives to each arm.
The crowd finally gets dispersed, and inebriated fans return rambunctiously to the Mods, and other festive hubs to continue the celebration with some good ol’ fashion debauchery, as is tradition.
Kel, we’re gonna need some Rubi, Odwalla chasers from lower, a sweaty dorm room, a caldron of tonic water (Schweepes preferably) and meet me down by the Res . . .
Anyone? Bueller? Alrighty . . .
The night ended with the sunrise lighting up the Boston skyline; fans and athletes of every major swaying to the melodies of a Cleveland Circle jukebox—from a bar that stayed open past 2 a.m. for this momentous occasion—arm-in-arm.
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