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I wish I could sing. That's what Samford's first NCAA Tournament game in 24 years demanded when it ended and deserves upon reflection. A song.
Not just any song, because this wasn't just any game, but a ballad with poignant couplets as lyrics half-spoken and half-sung by a full heart to the accompaniment of a mournful guitar. The right song at the right moment can be equally gutting and healing. It can rip out your heart and show it to you, then stitch it back together and ease your pain.
Like Kansas 93, Samford 89* with an honest asterisk.
By now you know the details and the feelings. The epic comeback by the Bulldogs that came up short. The terrible sound of a whistle signaling a phantom foul to negate one of the greatest defensive plays in the history of March Madness. The opportunity at a last-shot victory snatched from the jaws of this hungry, relentless, unselfish team to end the greatest season in school history too soon.
They deserved better Thursday night. Now and forever, they deserve a song. So, in the spirit of the late story-teller and singer-songwriter legend Gordon Lightfoot, I wrote one. Read it and weep to the tune of "The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald."
The Wreck of the Bucky McMillan
The legend lives on from the Jayhawks on down
Of the Big Dance they call March Madness.
The Dance, it is said, leaves dreams for dead
It just means more won't always beat less.
With a squad of slingshots and matching big hearts,
BuckyBall set sail for Salt Lake.
These good 'Dogs and true were a bone to be chewed
Guests helpless and blue at their own wake.
Their ship was the pride of the Homewood side
When they left fully hopeful for game time.
Then early that night when the bright lights arrived
Could it be they weren't ready for prime time?
KU's trees in the paint were too tall for restraint
Their press no defense 'gainst these bluebloods.
Missed jumpers from deep made Joey Davenport weep
For the longest these fighters seemed true duds.
Without even a curse a zebra made it worse
The bench in its angst got T'd up.
Halfway to the end there was no end in sight
Rock Chalk refused to ease up.
But right there and then these fearless young men
They did what they've done since November.
Though down 22, they stayed fast and true
To the script of a year to remember.
They pressed and they ran with the wind at their backs
And they shrank that hole 3 by 3.
The mighty Jayhawks, they gasped and wheezed
Cinderella in sight, must-see TV.
Achor Achor, the valiant 1-4
Thundered down through the trees.
A tomahawk dunk, well, who'da thunk
He could bring Hunter D. to his knees.
A late timeout, then a brilliant wheel route
Jaden Campbell rose up for 3.
He made the net dance and the 'Dogs had a chance
Needing one stop and one shot for vict'ry.
But when Timberlake soared all but certain to score
The good 'Dogs seemed helpless to stop it.
'Til ol' No. 5 chased him down from behind
He thwarted that dunk, yes, he blocked it.
A play for all time and just in time
All hail A.J. Staton-McRay.
Then out of the dew, no, a dark whistle blew
Why? Who knows? Zebras don't say.
Fate can be mean but that block was clean
Not sure what that striped shirt was thinkin'.
His game-changin' call shocked one and all
Sent the Bucky McMillan to sinkin'.
The young coach and his crew, we hope they all knew
Lifted all of us though they did sink.
Their one moment shined, it won hearts and minds
Not once, no, they never did blink.
So the legend lives on from the Jayhawks on down
Of the Big Dance they call March Madness.
In the year of our Lord two thousand twenty-four
We were all Bulldogs just for a night.
When it mattered most, Rylan Jones felt at home
Samford fought for what's good and what's right.
Though Goliath survived the proud underdog side
To Bill Self we say go enjoy it.
'Cause there will come a night when no whistle can slight
BuckyBall and all that comes with it.
Pressure and 3s, our favorite things are these
Yet that's not what defines this team.
It's hustle and heart and this just a start
Of everything BuckyBall means.
From the Wood they call Home to the great Salt Lake
The whole world was watchin' and hopin'.
Had that whistle not blew, ohhh, everyone knew
Down one, some 'Dog would come open.
The sad tongue and the pen speak of what might have been
But the lasting emotion's not sadness.
We proudly salute this young coach and his crew.
They were the heart of March Madness.
