I’m writing this from my bed in New Jersey at 2 a.m., mainly because this makes more sense to me than sleeping at the moment. Sleep is something you do on other nights. You know, nights when your university doesn’t beat the No. 1 team in the entire country.
It still doesn’t feel like it happened yet. I can’t really say for sure when Duane Wilson pulled Marquette back from the brink or when Katin Reinhardt had his several shining moments or when the Bradley Center turned into the kind of ecstatic madhouse that jars you to life even through the television set.