Butlers lesson
Posted: Fri Apr 22, 2011 3:59 pm
Butler Must Read
>
>
> HOUSTON – Shawn Vanzant sat in the corner of the Butler locker
> room, sobbing, his teammates said, at an almost uncontrollable
> level. Next to him was Matt Howard, a towel draped over his head,
> the tears coming just as hard.
>
>
>
> Matt Howard and his teammates were left heartbroken in the locker
> room.
> (Ronald Martinez/Getty Images)
>
> Together, the two seniors had shot 3 for 23, an absolutely abysmal,
> crushing performance in the biggest game of their lives.
> Connecticut was outside clipping the national championship nets. In
> here it was just hell, the aftermath of a great team gone bad – 12-
> of-64 shooting, a record-low 18.8 percent from the floor, a measly
> 41 total points, the lowest since the shot clock was invented.
>
> Vanzant thought it was his fault. Howard felt no better.
>
> And that’s when Ronald Nored, eyes red and tear-filled as well,
> noticed his teammates, got up, crossed the locker room and reminded
> everyone what this entire pursuit is about.
>
> He pulled Shawn Vanzant up off his stool and hugged his friend,
> physically and emotionally attempting to lift him out of his
> depression.
>
> After a few seconds, Nored stepped over to Howard and did the same.
> And soon enough, his teammates followed. One after the other, from
> the freshmen to the managers, from the benchwarmers to the
> starters, every last Butler Bulldog was taking a moment to remind
> each other, particularly those bottomed-out seniors, that this was
> about a lot more than some basketball game.
>
> “It [was] hard for me to watch; it’s hard for me to talk about,”
> coach Brad Stevens said of the scene, his voice catching and his
> eyes watering behind his glasses.
>
> “But it’s the best part of the story.”
>
> The story of Butler , the one that’s captured underdog hearts for
> two consecutive NCAA tournaments, was always about a group finding
> a way to be better than its individual parts. The Bulldogs were a
> family, they said. They were a brotherhood, they reminded. They
> believed they could reach back-to-back NCAA title games when there
> was no logical reason to think such a thing was possible.
>
> This is what all kinds of teams say, of course. And it’s easy to be
> a family when the shots are falling and victories are piling up and
> you’re shocking the world night after night. It’s another when you
> take the grandest stage in college basketball and proceed to
> experience a failure of historic proportions.
>
> Butler hit just 3 of 31 shots inside the arc. It made just six
> baskets in each half. At one point, the Bulldogs missed 13 in a
> row. They clanked open shots and blew gimmes they make in their
> sleep. As much credit as the long-armed Huskies’ defense deserves,
> in the back of every Bulldogs’ mind was the thought that they gave
> this away by playing the worst game of their lives at the worst
> possible moment.
>
> “All the people who played in the game think they let us down,”
> Stevens said. “And that’s ridiculous.”
>
> That’s also when everything gets tested. Butler blew it and that’s
> when fingers tend to get pointed and playing time gets questioned
> and selfishness can rise up. If only he had made that lay-up. If
> only he had knocked down that open jumper.
>
> “It’s very easy to just think about yourself and be frustrated in
> the situation,” Howard said.
>
> Instead, the Bulldogs showed all the talk was real. They did it one
> hug after the next. One whispered “I love you” after another. One
> pat on the back and look into the eye and honest bit of concern.
> The harder some cried, the harder the rest worked to ease the pain.
>
> Stevens stood in that locker room, took it all in and saw the kind
> of miracle for which coaches strive – collective support in the
> lowest and rawest of moments. Kids caring about kids. Perspective
> and purpose on display. It may not get you a clipped net, but
> that’s some kind of championship in itself.
>
> “Hard, hard to put into words,” Stevens said, his voice trailing a
> bit.
>
> “It’s probably the great thing about sports,” assistant coach
> Matthew Graves said.
>
> Nored said he never hesitated. Once he noticed Vanzant in such a
> state, the game didn’t matter. Only his friend did.
>
> “That’s what we’re here for, we’re here for each other,” Nored
> said. “In the big picture, who really cares about basketball? It’s
> about the guys in this locker room. I wanted Shawn to know we don’t
> really care that his shot didn’t go in; we care about him.”
>
> Howard, just a half-hour later, could only marvel at the entire
> thing. Butler had come to win the title on Monday, but when he
> gathered the team pregame in the tunnel, he told everyone to forget
> what was at stake.
>
> “Don’t think about the national championship,” he shouted. “This is
> our last time playing together.”
>
> With that, the Bulldogs broke huddle and sprinted out into the dome.
>
> A couple hours later, his message meant more than ever. The
> national championship was gone. The appreciation of playing
> together was not. He couldn’t hide under that towel after the game.
> His teammates wouldn’t let him.
>
> “[They] come over and give you a hug and tell [you] how much [they]
> love [you] and appreciate [you] and that is what this team is
> about,” Howard said. “It’s really uplifting because no matter the
> result, they want to be a part of this team and that is all that’s
> on their mind. They want to pick you up.
>
> “It’s a special group. That’s the only reason we’ve been able to do
> what we have.”
>
> They talk a lot about the “ Butler Way ” around here, although no
> one has a specific definition of it. Mostly it’s about being
> selfless, not caring who gets the points or the headlines or the
> accolades. Here on the night of a bitter, bitter defeat, Brad
> Stevens was reminded it can mean a whole lot more than that.
>
> “You know if someone has to go 12 of 64 and lose that game and do
> it that way,” he said, “these guys have the character to handle that.”
>
> The game had been a nightmare. The embarrassment of all those
> misses will linger. The frustration of so many good players failing
> to make simple shots will haunt them.
>
> But it won’t happen alone. Not with these guys. Not after Ronald
> Nored hugged Shawn Vanzant in the corner of that locker room and
> just wouldn’t let go.
>
>
>
>
> HOUSTON – Shawn Vanzant sat in the corner of the Butler locker
> room, sobbing, his teammates said, at an almost uncontrollable
> level. Next to him was Matt Howard, a towel draped over his head,
> the tears coming just as hard.
>
>
>
> Matt Howard and his teammates were left heartbroken in the locker
> room.
> (Ronald Martinez/Getty Images)
>
> Together, the two seniors had shot 3 for 23, an absolutely abysmal,
> crushing performance in the biggest game of their lives.
> Connecticut was outside clipping the national championship nets. In
> here it was just hell, the aftermath of a great team gone bad – 12-
> of-64 shooting, a record-low 18.8 percent from the floor, a measly
> 41 total points, the lowest since the shot clock was invented.
>
> Vanzant thought it was his fault. Howard felt no better.
>
> And that’s when Ronald Nored, eyes red and tear-filled as well,
> noticed his teammates, got up, crossed the locker room and reminded
> everyone what this entire pursuit is about.
>
> He pulled Shawn Vanzant up off his stool and hugged his friend,
> physically and emotionally attempting to lift him out of his
> depression.
>
> After a few seconds, Nored stepped over to Howard and did the same.
> And soon enough, his teammates followed. One after the other, from
> the freshmen to the managers, from the benchwarmers to the
> starters, every last Butler Bulldog was taking a moment to remind
> each other, particularly those bottomed-out seniors, that this was
> about a lot more than some basketball game.
>
> “It [was] hard for me to watch; it’s hard for me to talk about,”
> coach Brad Stevens said of the scene, his voice catching and his
> eyes watering behind his glasses.
>
> “But it’s the best part of the story.”
>
> The story of Butler , the one that’s captured underdog hearts for
> two consecutive NCAA tournaments, was always about a group finding
> a way to be better than its individual parts. The Bulldogs were a
> family, they said. They were a brotherhood, they reminded. They
> believed they could reach back-to-back NCAA title games when there
> was no logical reason to think such a thing was possible.
>
> This is what all kinds of teams say, of course. And it’s easy to be
> a family when the shots are falling and victories are piling up and
> you’re shocking the world night after night. It’s another when you
> take the grandest stage in college basketball and proceed to
> experience a failure of historic proportions.
>
> Butler hit just 3 of 31 shots inside the arc. It made just six
> baskets in each half. At one point, the Bulldogs missed 13 in a
> row. They clanked open shots and blew gimmes they make in their
> sleep. As much credit as the long-armed Huskies’ defense deserves,
> in the back of every Bulldogs’ mind was the thought that they gave
> this away by playing the worst game of their lives at the worst
> possible moment.
>
> “All the people who played in the game think they let us down,”
> Stevens said. “And that’s ridiculous.”
>
> That’s also when everything gets tested. Butler blew it and that’s
> when fingers tend to get pointed and playing time gets questioned
> and selfishness can rise up. If only he had made that lay-up. If
> only he had knocked down that open jumper.
>
> “It’s very easy to just think about yourself and be frustrated in
> the situation,” Howard said.
>
> Instead, the Bulldogs showed all the talk was real. They did it one
> hug after the next. One whispered “I love you” after another. One
> pat on the back and look into the eye and honest bit of concern.
> The harder some cried, the harder the rest worked to ease the pain.
>
> Stevens stood in that locker room, took it all in and saw the kind
> of miracle for which coaches strive – collective support in the
> lowest and rawest of moments. Kids caring about kids. Perspective
> and purpose on display. It may not get you a clipped net, but
> that’s some kind of championship in itself.
>
> “Hard, hard to put into words,” Stevens said, his voice trailing a
> bit.
>
> “It’s probably the great thing about sports,” assistant coach
> Matthew Graves said.
>
> Nored said he never hesitated. Once he noticed Vanzant in such a
> state, the game didn’t matter. Only his friend did.
>
> “That’s what we’re here for, we’re here for each other,” Nored
> said. “In the big picture, who really cares about basketball? It’s
> about the guys in this locker room. I wanted Shawn to know we don’t
> really care that his shot didn’t go in; we care about him.”
>
> Howard, just a half-hour later, could only marvel at the entire
> thing. Butler had come to win the title on Monday, but when he
> gathered the team pregame in the tunnel, he told everyone to forget
> what was at stake.
>
> “Don’t think about the national championship,” he shouted. “This is
> our last time playing together.”
>
> With that, the Bulldogs broke huddle and sprinted out into the dome.
>
> A couple hours later, his message meant more than ever. The
> national championship was gone. The appreciation of playing
> together was not. He couldn’t hide under that towel after the game.
> His teammates wouldn’t let him.
>
> “[They] come over and give you a hug and tell [you] how much [they]
> love [you] and appreciate [you] and that is what this team is
> about,” Howard said. “It’s really uplifting because no matter the
> result, they want to be a part of this team and that is all that’s
> on their mind. They want to pick you up.
>
> “It’s a special group. That’s the only reason we’ve been able to do
> what we have.”
>
> They talk a lot about the “ Butler Way ” around here, although no
> one has a specific definition of it. Mostly it’s about being
> selfless, not caring who gets the points or the headlines or the
> accolades. Here on the night of a bitter, bitter defeat, Brad
> Stevens was reminded it can mean a whole lot more than that.
>
> “You know if someone has to go 12 of 64 and lose that game and do
> it that way,” he said, “these guys have the character to handle that.”
>
> The game had been a nightmare. The embarrassment of all those
> misses will linger. The frustration of so many good players failing
> to make simple shots will haunt them.
>
> But it won’t happen alone. Not with these guys. Not after Ronald
> Nored hugged Shawn Vanzant in the corner of that locker room and
> just wouldn’t let go.
>
>