I feel so different, yet so wonderful

By Dick Vitale
Yeller

I tell you, NCAA Tournament time is my favorite time of the year. It is with so much pleasure each spring that I watch young men hoop it up on the hardwood, giving it their all in pursuit of the ultimate crown: An NCAA title.

While I am a fan of basketball on any level, I prefer the college game to the NBA. The sheer love of the sport, coupled with the passion of the students and pep bands, makes for an experience like no other.

And the players! In the past, I have loved rooting for players like Trajan Langdon, Carlos Boozer, Elton Brand, JJ Redick, Chris Duhon, Grant Hill, Jason Williams, Christian Laettner, Shane Battier, Bobby Hurley, Johnny Dawkins, Corey Maggette, Shelden Williams and Steve Wojciechowski.

All of those guys brought something different to the table, and all of them rank among my favorite basketball players ever. I don't even know if I could choose a favorite. They all inspired a deep, longing love inside of me.

But I must confess, this year I felt something different. One little player gave me a different type of feeling. One sharpshooting young man who seemed different than all of the others. And that young man is Stephen Curry from Davidson.

Stephen wasn't like all of the others that I've loved. This love was fleeting; it was fast. While I had time to dote and dwell on the magnificence of my other loves, Stephen swooped in from nowhere. He was different, and I couldn't figure out why. In my brain, I knew it was love. But my heart did not understand. He was so mysterious and wondrous, like Johnny Depp in Chocolat.

Along with this brief passion, I felt guilt. I did not understand the reason behind this emotion either. No matter how much I tried to suppress this feeling, it still popped up. Why did loving this boy from a school of 1,700, the son of an NBA three-point specialist, make me feel such a rollercoaster of emotions?

I was torn. I knew my love was true, but it felt forbidden.

And then suddenly, as quickly as those feelings came, they were gone. Stephen Curry had left my life and my feelings were gone with it. Was it real? Had it really happened? This new flame, this new desire had been snuffed out nearly as quickly as it had warmed my insides.

While I enjoyed my time with Stephen, watching him nail three-pointers and floaters as well as anyone I've ever seen, I knew it wasn't to last. I knew this was a fling. A tryst. Something that can never be repeated. I felt sadness, but -- at the same time -- satisfaction.

What does this all mean?

Ahh, you know what, who cares!? I'm ready to rub whipped cream on my nipples and watch Tyler Hansbrough's hard-working, passionate desire of gritty fortitude dominate the Final Four! North Carolina, baby! It's the Final Four! It's tremendous! I'm in orgasmic ecstasy, baby! Awww yeahhhhhh!