Contest Entry #3

– From Paul Bien –

The Road to the Final Four

“… Dude, are we really thinking of going? You realize it’s all the way in Indianapolis…”

Famous last words. Looking back on it, my buddies and I were hopelessly hooked on UCLA sports. We had just hurriedly raced through our finals and broke Highway 5 speed limits in our efforts to make tipoff of our 2006 Sweet 16 matchup with Gonzaga. After that unforgettable comeback against the Zags that had us nearly jumping off the upper deck of the Oakland Coliseum, and a subsequent dismantling of Memphis in the Elite 8 game, someone proposed the crazy idea of actually, you know, going to Indianapolis for the Final Four. Our mighty Bruins needed us after all! Pretty soon, a harmless hypothetical suddenly turned into a plausible reality.

Our trip began as most unorganized 19-year-olds would plan it. The Final Four started in four days. Flights were too expensive. Renting cars unfeasible. We even considered a Greyhound that was scheduled to drop us off in Indianapolis roughly four hours before Game 1. Finally we cajoled a sympathetic mother into lending a rusty, and trusty, old Volvo, bid our parents adieu at 4:30 AM, and started our 2,344 mile trek from Menlo Park, CA to Indianapolis, IN.

Were we crazy? Yes, and add “dumb and naive” too. But so began our 36-hour drive to Indianapolis. And while that is a LONG time to spend in a car, we were as excited anyone could be. 8-claps at passerby in rural New Mexico were perfectly acceptable. The LSU fans we saw on the road got honked at (mysteriously, no Bruins on the road… I wonder why). Not even the pair of speeding tickets we received in the two hours we spent in Texas could dampen our spirits. Although we soon realized those speeding tickets would’ve paid for a flight, and drove 65 miles per hour the rest of the way.

Eventually, we got there. We crammed six people into our Motel 6, screamed our hearts out as UCLA throttled LSU, and gallavanted around Indianapolis enjoying our first unforgettable taste of a major sporting event. Among the crazed Bruins we met (at TGI Fridays, of all places), was a strapping gent sporting a Cameroonian cape who insisted on pointing in all four directions and yelling “Luc… Richard… Mbah… a Moute…,” a fitting revision to the UCLA tradition of yelling “U… C… L… A” from all four corners of the gym after a Bruin victory.

Not even the tornado warning the next day could dampen our spirits. After being ushered to a basement during especially strong winds, we stumbled upon a local sports reporter who spotted our Bruin gear and asked us for some help with UCLA facts. His reaction to our story of getting to Indianapolis mirrored everyone else’s — “are you crazy?” — with the exception that he thought it appropriate to put us on local TV to tell our story. So… we did.

Alas, the magical run did end. Florida dismantled UCLA to capture the national title, leaving our Bruins emptyhanded. Our emotions ran the gamut: frustration, sadness… a desire to punch Joakim Noah in the face. Looking back, of course there is a large measure of satisfaction at the overall success of the season. But at the time? Utter disappointment. For hours, no one said a word. The only thing worse than a 36-hour drive is a 36-hour drive full of depressed, silent Bruins. Speeding tickets be damned, we could not get back to California fast enough.

Ultimately, as an avid UCLA supporter, I’ve attended more memorable games. I’ve witnessed more spectacular plays. But in terms of holistic sporting experiences, my trip to Indianapolis will always rank #1. No week better epitomized the college experience. We felt so, so lucky to even have the OPPORTUNITY to attend such an incredible sporting event and support our school. Why wouldn’t we do whatever it took to get there? And even though UCLA lost (and I still cringe at the “it’s great… to be… a Florrrrrrida Gator!” chant), I couldn’t be happier with that unforgettable experience.