Three Daily Arts writers, in varying states of mind, watch the NCAA Championship.


OK. Sit down. Trey scored two. Good. So, I should preface this by saying I don’t know anything about basketball. Or the Michigan Basketball team. Or, really, sports in general. I bought season tickets last year, but didn’t go to more than, like, two or three games.

Why are people arguing about goaltending? I’m glad the colors are easy to tell apart. Trey Burke is really good. Wow. Just realized we’re playing Louisville. Are they the Louisville sluggers? I’m a dragon. I’ve already gotten sidetracked. We’re still winning. Well, not that we were. Because it was tied. But we’re winning again, so good.

Checking in 20 minutes later. Still high. Oh, God, Highland cows are the cutest. Apparently we’re still winning. This is good. People are falling a lot. And cheering. We’re winning by nine! That’s more than before. And now by eight. Which is stupid. And now, 10. 12! HOLY SHIT. People are pumped. I’m pretty pumped. Winning is awesome. And WE ARE ONLY UP BY FOUR BECAUSE BURKE HAS BEEN GONE. Where is Burke? What is happening? I think right now the only things I know about basketball are “Trey Burke” and that it is actually played with a ball, but no basket.

What’s the deal with halftime? OK, there’s a literal basket, but not made of wood. All right, so, we’re only up — NOW DOWN — by one. What is happening? This is terrifying and terrible. Good thing free throws exist, apparently. What’s the deal with halftime? We are DOWN and it is five minutes into the second half. Burke got dunked attempting to dunk. You know what sounds amazing right now? Candy. Or M&Ms. We’re down. Everything is happening so quickly. And now we’re down by five. Listen. I’m REALLY hungry. I’m going to eat.

Trey Burke happened and now we’re only down by two. Louisville players are really dramatic. Trey Burke happened again, and now we’re only down by three. Are we time-traveling? THAT WAS A SUPER INTENSE SCRAMBLE THOUGH, but I feel like something should’ve been fouled there. Burke just went face-to-court. That looked brutal. Is Burke going to recover? I’m no expert, but these refs seem to be pretty bullshit. Burke is still killing it though. Minus the part that we’re down by like eight at 3:52 and I am STRESSING OUT. And after a nerve wracking trio of minutes we lose. Basketball is really stressful to watch.



So, like, this whole basketball thing is a big deal apparently. I mean, I’ve been following the season pretty religiously, but mainly because I’m attracted to the athletes. Sorry ’bout it.

My love affair with Mitch McGary is pretty well documented, if I do say so myself. I’m pretty sure I’ve confessed my love to him in every format other than walking up to him and handing him my number. I know, believe me I know, he’s a freshman and I’m a senior, but I’m all about that forbidden love. So, I guess it probably wasn’t surprising when I started yelling across Blue Lep’s basement when some girl tried to say she was going to marry him. Oops.

I think I can count four pitchers of Oberon on our makeshift table, complete with those orange slices that I’m convinced are only there for decoration — oh, wait, there’re two more pitchers at the end over yonder. Seriously, these tables go on forever.

What I remember of the first half is screaming for Spike’s on-fire three’s, running around the bar high-fiving strangers and then promptly shutting up when that bearded Louisville looker responded with his own run. Dafuq just happened?

Second half = death. Hello, sir. Waiter, sir? Over here. I’ll have another drink now.

We’re losing, we’re losing, WHY ARE WE LOSING?! Um, referees, please use those things in your face holes called eyes. I’m trying to refrain from too many profanities, but that call on Trey’s block? That’s straight bullshit. Ugh.

Wait, it’s over? It’s over. This can’t be happening. This feeling is not nice. I do not like this feeling at all. I think I could cry?

Well, pass me that pitcher and fill ’er up, bub. It’s time to bury myself in it. Go blue.



There have been few moments in my life that have held this much sadness and pride at once. As I watched the last minute of the National Championship game go by, I realized that I had never taken stock into how much love and admiration I have for the University. Because I finally understood, watching the basketball team gracefully admit defeat, that this was far more than a basketball game — it was the culmination of my time at the University and its spirit.

It’s not just about who wins; it’s not about being a fan or about cheering the loudest. It’s about having immense pride for where you are — for the school, for the people, for the opportunities. It was only when I saw us lose (after so many months of hoping and crossing our fingers) that I understood how we’ve already won. It’s incredibly cliché, but what makes a team great isn’t the amount of titles acquired but the amount of dedication, respect and work put into the effort. It resonates with every student. We all lose and win on our own merit, but what never changes is how decidedly thrilled and excited we are by our prospects, by our futures. And though we’re not champions, we are, and always will be, Wolverines.


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