1. I like that they may end up taking UConn's football coach and vault all the way up to 7th in the Big East recruiting rankings.
2. I like that they've kept the 2-3 zone alive, giving all those undermanned suburban high school basketball coaches hope that some day, they too can be one of the nation's 65th-96th best teams.
3. I like that they're not Rutgers.
4. I like that they play lacrosse well ... lacrosse is legit.
5. I like a worthy adversary. This has nothing to do with Syracuse sports.
What I am talking about is the quaint little Orange blog Hoya Suxa;, which was so kind as to link to our half-assed little site Sunday.
'Preciate it, guys. And you were so close to getting my first name right. (Oh, I see what you did. You almost got me there.)
Now, I'm not a hateful person, even if I enjoy a nice glass of Haterade every now and then (the dear, departed Fire Joe Morgan is a favorite site of mine). And Hoya Suxa, if nothing else, is a master of the hateful arts.
But their affront to myself, and my fellow Storrsians, cannot stand. After the jump, we'll throw our rocks at the hornet's nest that is the Orange menace lurking throughout the Internets.
So, what did these kind folks have to say about us?
Hating Georgetown is a 52-week duty, like domestic border patrol. Hating Connecticut is a two-week (at most) responsibility, like pest control. For the Huskies populace to not recognize this fact is simultaneously heartening and disheartening: on the one hand, Connecticut has now shown patent jealously for James Arthur Boeheim’s program of excellence, reverting its unstated love for superficial statements of disdain; on the other hand, Connecticut is irrelevant, existing in the Orange conscious for only fleeting moments of time.
I mean, that's cool, if you think that's true.
But I think it's important that we step back and figure out what we are really arguing about here.
That our stable little cow town is better than your decaying, increasingly-irrelevant Rust Belt townlet? No, no.
That our basketball coach beats cancer at an identical percentage yet a more frequent rate than your coach, indicating that he - the Jim with multiple national titles - is some sort of X Men-style man-monster? No - although, maybe.
That Syracuse's greatest basketball player in recent history (besides that mercenary playing for the Nuggets) most recently played in Latvia, which I'm almost positive is a country invented in a sitcom-esque scheme to teach Hakim Warrick a lesson about friendship? That's not what this is about...although that is a given.
That your Communications school graduates dozens of folks who work for ESPN, where they become corporate puppets devoid of soul or mind? I mean, here at UConn, we just cut out the middle man and graduate puppets. That's some good old-fashioned efficiency. But no, that's not what this is about either.
That a Google search for "Syracuse serial killer" pulls up 81,300 results, and a search for "UConn serial killer" a paltry 11,900? Hey, don't blame me for naming your university after the town. (Also, someone call the cops. I'm worried about upstate New York's well-being.) But no, this also is not why we argue.
No, it's none of that. And this argument isn't even really about Syracuse's decision to just leave last year's NIT sticker on the floor and paint over the change the '8' to a '9' in a few months. (It's simple, cost-effective, and plus, no one will be looking at the 19.5 inches of court space not covered by that goofy 'S', anyway.)
No, friends. This whole ordeal, this whole fight: it is about denial. I do not set out to prove that Syracuse desperately needs to hang on UConn's coattails. I will merely offer a tiny bit of reason, and let the Orangefolks speak for themselves.
For you see, for all their big talk, our friends are secretly obsessed about the University of Connecticut. Consider, just to grab an example off the top of my head, the relationship upstate New Yorkers have with New York City.
We all know that the land north and west of about White Plains hasn't contributed anything in the way of culture, fashion, or economic benefits since roughly 1948 (though if rusted metal husks make a comeback, look out!). And yet western New Yorkers have been known to actually pretend that their area matters on its own.
So it is with the Orangegentlemen/ladies.
Their Big East-sponsored programs are unable to win championships in this new, post-modern age - Gerry McNamara selling his soul to the devil aside - yet they are allowed to serve as punching bags for noodle-armed quarterbacks, or St. John's. It is generous and wise that the Big East do this.
That way, when the Orange are allowed by the fates to achieve fleeting success - like in April 2003 - it can then be topped in glorious fashion by, say, a men's/women's basketball dual championship.
And this fact - that their traditional status has been overtaken by some upstart from New England - eats Syracuse fans up. Don't let these fellows from out West, these hyper-literate, oft-hilarious folks, tell you otherwise. They may hate Georgetown traditionally, but Georgetown has been relevant for about 18 months this decade. Syracuse fans hate us because they see UConn's athletic programs sprinting past their own, and they cling to us, like people from Pennsylvania cling to their guns and religion in times of trouble.
To sum up:
Because then, they'll sleep well at night. And basketball season just isn't fun if Syracuse fans can observe normal sleeping patterns.
Now, having launched our return fire, we at TheUConnBlog would like to be the bigger men and offer an olive branch, to last until the week of Feb. 11 (when the time shall be right), in the hopes of avoiding a Flanders, 1917 situation.
Therefore, I will admit that I am quite impressed with Hoya Suxa's hatesmanship. And, I mean ... Georgetown sucks a lot too. So keep up the good work on that front.
(P.S. TheUConnBlog proudly employs, at most, 1.5 illiterates. We thank you kindly in advance for your correction.)
(P.P.S. I stand by my statement that Syracuse University will continue to suck hard for the duration. For the duration of what, you may ask? Either for eternity, or for the amount of time T.J. Sorrentine's shot stayed in the air. Whichever's longer.)