The season is finally over and I am in total shock. I got to watch this Jayhawk squad play twenty-four times this season. One of my favorite teams ever. Because the more I watched, the more I became convinced that they genuinely liked each other, that they did not care—on any given night—who got the credit. When they rooted for each other, it was real, not the rigid kind of quid pro quo support that’s become the society standard. I’ll root for you—as long as you return the favor. When you watch a team enough times, you can tell the difference between authentic love for teammates and when they are just doing it because coach told them to.
Senior Ochai Agbaji set the standard. He was under-recruited, but became a first team All-American. He had games where he scored in single digits, but he still willed his team to win by diving on the floor, making the extra pass, taking a charge. After these games, when the box score failed to animate his impact, Agbaji consistently beamed a smile soaked in sincerity. His rare blend of poise, purity of heart and sculpted athleticism made Omicron isolation bearable. The last time these guys lost, I was on Mass Street in Lawrence. I wish I was there right now. Rock Chalk Jayhawk.
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