The Days of the Peach Basket have ended. We, the men and women of Middle Earth, can return to our work, leaving behind the joys of the Big Dance. The warriors of our courts can return to their homes, leaving behind the empty ballrooms of the fast-paced and well-played contests. The players have contained the March Madness. The battles have been fought, the victors have been crowned. Through their efforts, the land can rest for another season.

This morning my hat is off to the Lady Huskies of Connecticut. Last night was the final battle of a long campaign, and the women of Connecticut handled the game well. On waking, my first memory was a Lady Huskie offering a hand to lift a battered Redbird from the floor. For the UConn women, there was skill in their play and style in their manner.

On the field of play, the Huskies were relentless, mushing their sled from end-to-end, the fast-and-quick pullers jumping to the top of the conveyance and sinking basket-after-basket from each-and-every direction, then turning that sled of tricks to mush back and harass the Cardinals at every attempted bird flight and each swooping move. The Ladies of Louisville wore down, but they never gave up. Neither team did. That is high commendation to both squads on the Night of the Last Basket, the last game of the  2013 College Basketball Wars.

The last game was Connecticut’s, their eighth National Title – they are true Champions.

We, the welcoming throngs, cheer and clap for the warrior women of Connecticut – they are Winners.

Standing with us, with a smile and a wave, are the Lady Cardinals saluting their foes and friends, the Lady Huskies, as the Connecticut players pass, wearing their hard-won tiaras, the diadems of their success.

It is a game, but it is much, much more.

Our congratulations extend to each and every team.

A special heart-felt Thank You to the Lady Huskies for a quality first-place finish.

Next year, our hopes will return to the Hoops of March.

It is a game, but it is so much, much more.

See you at the dance,

Don’t be late,

Next year,

Grandpa Jim