The Best Good Friday Since Jesus...Wait, No...The Best Good Friday Ever. Period.
I'll be honest. I quit. I didn't have much faith. Oh sure, the faith started creeping back in when Trey Burke started proving, with a soul crushing vengence a-la John McClane, that he's the best player in the country, but not until there were seconds left and the guys were down by a seemingly impossible three did I manage to fully drag my ass back up onto that wagon. All year long it was a good idea to jump from the car rather than go over the cliff in some Buzz-James Dean-Rebel-Without-a-Cause-Chicky-Run patheticness, but then last night Trey Burke punched us all in the face, a good one too, right square in the mouth, and said, "climb back up here mother@#$%#, or we're leaving you behind." So up I went.
That kid just made my year. From this point forward, and forever, Good Friday will be known as Trey Burke Day, and I will laugh because it will be a paid holiday. We will remember forever the day that Bill Self died for Elijah Johnson's sins. Best Easter ever.