Look, the score matters when you’re a betting person or a family member of a player. But for the rest of us? The score is just the final chapter of a novel with 40 pages of chaos.
Did Jim Boeheim throw his jacket? That’s a score of “I’m old, I’m angry, and I’m wearing a collar.” Did a Syracuse player hit a three-pointer while falling into the stands? That’s a score of “unforgettable.”
So next time someone asks, “What was the score?” You say: “Syracuse won the fun, and the other team got a participation trophy for surviving.” That’s the real box score. The numbers? Meh. The memories? That’s a 100-0 blowout.
Now go watch a replay. Ignore the ticker at the top. Focus on the guy who celebrates a steal like he just won the lottery. That’s the score that matters.
And remember: in Syracuse, the score is always orange. Even when it’s blue. We color the numbers with our own hype.
