A friend of a friend of the girlfriend scored 8 tickets to the Big Ten tournament bash Saturday night at Navy Pier. Man oh man was I excited. I figured the Grand Ballroom would be just jammed with luminaries. This would be my big chance to shake Bruce Weber's hand, pat him on the back and tell him we're all teribly sorry about the loss of his mother. I could ask Tom Izzo where he buys those wonderful suits and how he keeps his hair just so slick. Maybe I'd run into Vincent Grier and tell him that's he's easily the most underappreciated player in the conference. Hell, I could even track down Wisconsin's Mike Wilkinson and ask him if his buddies call him "Ilk."

I threw on some orange and blue, and off to Navy Pier I was. Well let me tell you, last time I was this disappointed in something was when I saw Sue the dinosaur at the Field Museum and was like "That's it? Are you sure this isn't just a model?"

The room was about 30% full of 60 year old fatcat alumni and 18 year old starving college kids lured by their 2 favorite words in the English language: FREE BEER. The bill of fare was Billy Goat Cheezeborgers on stale buns and boiled Fluky's hot dogs. Why did I get my hopes up?

Then again, why am I such an ingrateful little shit sometimes?