It’s March, y’all, and you know what that means! It’s the time of year when all the middle-aged white men come together to bet on college basketball like they’re aristocrats at the horse track. I’m personally pulling for UConn and Purdue, but that’s not important. What is important, however, is that our very own Beacons were shooting to win it all this year, but did they even come remotely close? Did UMass Boston’s Men’s Basketball Team reach a level to even consider playing the best college teams in the nation? No, of course not! But dang it, did they try.  

The team was run by an average coaching staff and contained young men who had at least seen a basketball before. With all this going for them, you would expect them to be promising, and actually, they weren’t too shabby at the start of the season. The only real barricade for the Beacons was that they were a D3 team and a far cry from being the next Michael Jordans, Larry Byrds or Steph Currys. But head coach, Paul Dacanelli—more commonly known as Coach Dack—had some tricks up his sleeve.  

This guy, of course, is not the actual head coach of our basketball team. Frankly, I was too lazy to look up who our actual coach is, so let’s just pretend for now that Coach Dack is the real deal, okay? Okay. 

Anyway, Coach Dack wasn’t going to let his team go down the drain without trying to teach them how to swim. At the very least, he would provide water wings and snorkels for the players…at least, for the starters. As for the benchwarmers, they would have to fend for themselves in the cruel ocean that is college basketball.

Coach Dack had several plans of action to take with his boys. The first step was to get into their heads to control how they thought about the game, their teammates and most importantly, themselves. They had to believe they were the greatest players in the country, and to control how they thought, Coach Dack snuck copious amounts of opioids, cocaine and a single tablet of ibuprofen into their Gatorade supply. This drugged the players into a Nirvana-like state, where everything was fine, and their minds were malleable. 

Then, in their team meetings when they would watch game footage, talk plays and discuss the latest episode of “The Real Housewives of Salt Lake City,” Coach would record subliminal messages over everything. An example of one such message was: “You are the ball. Be the ball. The hoop is your happy place. Also, my Toyota Corolla needs to be vacuumed.” Next thing you know, the guys would be bouncing around on the court, hanging off the rims and lining up in the parking lot with their Dysons. 

All of this mixed with intense weight training, cardio and never-ending drills and scrimmages made for basketball robots. Perfect! All they knew was “Dribble. Pass. Shoot.” And that’s all they needed to know; Coach Dack would handle the rest. He had some connections throughout all the different conferences in the country, from our own Little East to the Pac-12. He typed vigorously on his computer like a hacker in a 90s movie. Hunched over, sunglasses on, typing away like his life depended on it, and in a way, it did.  He used to be so passionate about the game. Now, it all comes down to shallow things like salary and winning. He never got used to the feeling of either of those.  

Just kidding! You really thought I was going to pull a Disney here and try to give the villain a tragic backstory so instead of hating him, you kind of feel bad for the guy and start to root for him? Oh, please! Coach Dack is not a guy to root for. He did all this to his players for fun and he has plenty of cash lying around from several other probably-not-legal matters. Anywho, back to the game.

It was all coming down to this, the final regular season game. We were facing the East Virginia Cheese Weasels and if we got through them, March Madness would be ours. The game was insane. The lead kept getting thrown around and never got higher than a six-point difference. Every step on that court counted.

Unfortunately, all robots eventually malfunction, and the players were so numb in their minds and bodies that they all simultaneously started to shiver and shake. The crowd was going nuts with all five stages of grief, but all the referees seemed to care about was the traveling and the personal fouls—all against the Beacons.  

Coach Dack was outraged! So much so, that he forced the benchwarmers to stand so he could throw the bench at the Cheese Weasels’ entire starting lineup. He was ejected from the stadium and all the players from both teams were hospitalized. The Beacons lost the game 107–106. Maybe next year, team. Maybe next year.