355 days.
That’s how long the Binghamton University’s men’s basketball team went without winning a single game. Touting an astounding 0-26 record this season, it finally broke through in unlikely fashion against the Catamounts of the University of Vermont Tuesday night to end the streak.
How bad has Binghamton been this season? They rank 332th in the NCAA in points per game, 286th in rebounding, and 325th in field goal percentage.
Since Binghamton’s last victory, Prince William married Catherine Middleton, U.S. Special Forces took out Osama Bin Laden, Libya fought a civil war, NFL and NBA lockouts began and ended, the occupy movement came and went and MIA gave us all the finger.
As the buzzer sounded, some Bearcat fans were overjoyed and decided to rush the court to celebrate the win. May I ask why? What is there to celebrate? The only thing that made Binghamton basketball relevant is now gone.
Binghamton was on its way to the most futile season in the history of NCAA Division I basketball . . . did it not realize what it was playing for?
The Bearcats have three games remaining on their schedule and could have achieved the unthinkable mark of zero wins and 29 losses.
No team has ever gone 0-29 in a single season. Why win and erase your place in college basketball history?
The coach? Mark Macon, he’ll be fired and forgotten despite this one win. The players? You don’t know any of their names and now you never will. This was their one and only chance at an unforgettable legacy.
2,427 fans were in attendance Tuesday night, and the average attendance for Binghamton’s home games has been 2,722 this season. In fact, the Bearcats are leading America East in attendance.
How is that possible?
Clearly, these fans appreciate history. My hat is off to them for recognizing and supporting this outstanding quest for unbridled imperfection.
Just two days ago, Binghamton basketball wasn’t just a terrible team. They were the terrible team. What are they now? Just the same awful team lacking the compelling story they had before.
We love watching Charlie Brown try to kick the football because he never does. If he kicked it every once in a while, the bit wouldn’t be as transcendent – watching him fail wouldn’t be as special. Charlie Brown’s futile attempts have a sacred feel to them.
You watch him try to kick the ball because you’re so compelled to see if he can finally do it. Maybe this time – this one time – he’ll do it . . . but he never does. So, the stakes are always high. You’ll always watch . . . you’ll always care.
Imagine he did finally kick it. The absolute imperfection would be lost. As soon as he’s managed to do it once, the stakes have been erased. You can never take that one victory away – no matter how many times someone has lost in the past. There’s an iconic art to being that bad at something that many times in a row.
For 355 magical days, Binghamton was Charlie Brown, but now it’s kicked the ball. It’s over. The magic is lost. Whether they win or lose to the University at Albany tonight, it’ll just be another dreadful last place team.
There’s no longer anything on the line. We have no reason to care. And if Binghamton was Charlie Brown, Vermont was Lucy. The Catamounts came into that game with a 12-2 conference record. A win would’ve put them in a tie for first place in America East with the conference tournament looming, and they lose to Binghamton? Lucy would be appalled.
What made Lucy so great? Such a fierce opponent? She never lost focus. From 1950 to 2000, Lucy never – not one time – lapsed and let Charlie Brown kick that little brown football.
So, on Tuesday night, Vermont got a little too arrogant and held out the ball for just a moment too long. The game went down to the final seconds, but “It’s OK, they’ll pull it out of the way just in time . . . that’s what always happens,” you thought.
No. The Catamounts lost focus for a split second and all was lost.
I ask you this Binghamton: What’s the point of being offensively bad at something if you’re not the worst?
The Bearcats had their shot at being Charlie Brown, but they just couldn’t be quite awful enough.
So, shame on you Binghamton. Immortality was within reach, and you let pride get in the way. You may have won the battle, but you’ve lost the war.