We shared the postgame hug between Paige Bueckers and Coach Auriemma in an earlier post. Here’s one that’s gotten a lot of play as well. Florida defeated Houston on the very last play when the Cougars’ Sharp couldn’t get a shot off with Gator Clayton Jr. on his ass. It was a devastating, heart-wrenching loss for Sharp and Houston: they led most of the game. After the buzzer, Sharp was on the ground gripped by his agony. Clayton Jr., known to be a gracious and impressive young man on and off the court, is seen here, below, seeking Sharp out for a quick word and consoling hug. We’re listing the young man among our “honorable menschen.”

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Kudos to our favorite blogger, Rex Parker (real name Michael Sharp) and wife Penelope Harper who won the prestigious American Crossword Puzzle Tourney in Stamford CT last weekend, in the “pairs” division. There were three puzzles in the morning and three in the afternoon on Saturday. Then one final larger puzzle Sunday.

If you saw the movie Wordplay (2006), as I did, this is the tourney it featured. When competing as a “pair,” each partner gets a copy of the puzzle. Some couples work separately and then combine their work for submission. Rex and Penelope did it differently — they worked separately on different segments on one copy, trusting each other, and then finished up together a bit sloppily in the middle. It worked!

Points are earned for each correct answer with a bonus for a perfect grid. Also, significantly, points are earned for how fast you finish.

Rex also shared this sweet pic of OC fave Wyna Liu with him. Hey, Wyna — Phil says hi!

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Today’s “Poem-a-Day” from Poets.org is by Leonora Simonovis and is called “Little Bruja.”

^{There’s nothing left except to try.
      —Mrs. Whatsit in A Wrinkle in Time}

I tried, believe me, I did, but my cheap Caribou jeans
and Buster Brown polos couldn’t match the prestige
of Levi’s, Nikes, Lacoste worn by my fifth-grade classmates
who visited Magic Kingdom every summer. There was
Claudia with her button-y nose and perfect smile;
blonde and green-eyed Caroline. Despite her rumpled clothes,
she looked like a queen. And then Federico, who pulled
my braids and boasted about meeting Mickey Mouse. I said
mice are dirty, they poop everywhere, will make you sick.
You’d know, he sneered—I wished him gone. Abuela told me
about giving mal de ojo to a woman who spoke ill of her.
The woman got sick, almost died. One day Federico fell,
pierced his knee on a sharp piece of metal. I whispered in his ear
as he wailed: I don’t need to go to Magic Kingdom. Magic is in my blood.

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Do you often find yourself agreeing with the very right-wing National Review? Me neither, but then there’s this:

“What has happened since last Thursday is hard to fathom,” they write. “Based on an ever-shifting series of rationales, characterized by an embarrassing methodology, and punctuated with an extraordinary arrogance toward the country’s constitutional order, the Trump administration has alienated our global allies, discombobulated our domestic businesses, decimated our capital markets, and increased the likelihood of serious recession.”

Yeah, so? What’s your point? Is that bad?

One of the most impressive features of the extraordinary damage Trump has done to everything he’s touched is the speed. It’s only been about 2 and half months. How the hell are we going to make it through 4 years?

The following has been lifted shamelessly from Frank Bruni’s “For the Love of Sentences” feature:

It’s hard to pick just a few lines from David Roth’s examination, on the Defector website, of what Trump has done to us (and what we’ve done to ourselves), but these capture its haunted and haunting tone: “The world will cease to matter to him the moment he leaves it, and so he is more than happy to decree that everyone and everything be buried alongside him. It will be important to remember the shame of this moment, both how it felt and how it worked, when it is time to build whatever will rise from it.” 

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Owl Chatter has been flooded with mail, email, and texts for Phil on whether Taylor and Travis have gotten secretly married. Phil, who is very close to Tay, would certainly know, and he assures us they have not tied the knot, or even knotted the tie. The hoopla has all been caused by AI-generated fake wedding photos. The word is Travis is gung-ho, however, and would like to start a family with TS. Brother Jason just had his fourth — it may be hard to catch up.

Don’t look at me in that tone of voice, Swift!

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Barry Meadan of the Dull Men’s Club (UK) posted: I’m 45 tomorrow and wondering what is an acceptable midlife crisis to aim for? I am married and have kids, so no Ferrari for me.

Here are the dullest of 242 comments. (Hit a nerve!)

Jill Swan: No no, you’re misunderstanding the depth of a midlife crisis. Perhaps you’re still too young and happy. A Ferrari is absolutely what a mid life crisis symptom looks like, and in case you need a tip, you don’t discuss it. You just screech up to the house in a cloud of smoke one sunny afternoon and casually throw the keys on the kitchen table.

Mark Anderson: Tattoos are always a good start.

Stacy Pink: Knee supports and life insurance..

Avi Liveson: Best pastrami sandwich you can find, with a cold beer. Cheers!

Colin Bailey: Vasectomy.

Karen O’mara: It’s not really an age thing. You just know it when you have one.

Robin Hames: I decided when I hit 45 that I really wanted hairy ears, hairy nostrils and reading glasses. It was the easiest midlife crisis ever, I didn’t have to do anything (except buy the glasses)

Ben Farrington: If you feel like something exotic, I once met a chap who said he collected egg whisks (and had over 300 different ones.)

Ken Irvine: You need a Dad shed, and tools, and a hobby… like making miniature models of industrial machinery, then describing it in lengthy detail to us here

Thea Cook: A collection of oddly shaped vegetables.

Jan Brady: Hookers and hard drugs. Alternatively, using a different bus stop.

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After a slow start, the Gnats went 4-2 on a homestand against ‘Zona and the Dodgers, winning both series. Not too shabby. James Wood is for real. Probably too much to hope for a .500 season, but let’s see.

See you tomorrow!