I come to you now, at the turn of the tide.

It's interesting to be blogging this the day after a loss, and the last day of 2010.

Everyone kept asking me over the course of the summer, "What the heck are you going to blog about if they lose? I mean, your blog is all about the team, right?"

No.  No it isn't.

So this seems to be the perfect time.

(by the way, everyone is fine.  We're all okay.  Nobody jumped off a ledge, and with the exception of my Nonna's heart rate, nothing was out of control.  Stanford was amazing, and my sister called Poehlen "Pistol" Poehlen all night.)

This year was exhausting.

Sometimes in a good way, sometimes bad.

I went through a lot of crap that was not blogged about, and will never be blogged about, because for all the private things I turn public, some things should be kept under the rug.  I realized there are things I want to discuss, to blog, that have nothing to do with Dad's team.  I won't be traveling to the Final Four if we are blessed to go this year (however I am going to Notre Dame next weekend).  School and my career calls before hopping on a plane to Indianapolis.

In short? This blog is taking a detour.

Well, not so much of a detour, as a facelift.  I'm like The Swan, only far, far less degrading.  (I hope.)

In 2011, you can expect the blog to come from less of a sports place and from more of an Ally place.  I will still be talking about sports and the team, trust me.  You will see that here.  But for a good 80-90% of the time, this is the content you can expect from Ally:

1. Movie reviews, book reviews, TV reviews, music reviews.  I will be your one stop shop for everything useless you wanted to know about pop culture.
2. Commentary on pop culture.  My harangue against the Twilight Saga got a lot of support.  I think I will be talking more about that kind of thing.  But hopefully, about things I like rather than things I abhor.
3. Sports, in general.  Why I think Lebron needed to stay in Cleveland, what Oscar the Grouch-like devil Kobe got his new sneakers from, the 30 for 30 series, the Super Bowl and why I (begrudgingly) think the Pats will win this year no matter how much it burns me inside.
4. Grad school.  What I think of it, the kind of work I'm required to do, the essays I'm writing, the life I want to live.
5. Family life.  Not 'Dad as Coach' family life.  'Dad as Dad' life.  Life in this house, daily routines, what kind of pajamas my Dad wears, the works.
6. Boys.  Because I'm a girl in her 20s, and boys are weird.
7. City adventures, when I have them.
8. Photos of my life.  I just got a new DSLR camera, and let's face it...I've been taking pictures of everything.
9. General musings.

I hope I don't lose any viewership or followers with this new track I'm embarking on.  But honestly? A few people have said they came for the connection to my dad, and they stayed for everything else.  That gives me confidence.

I started this blog when I was bored and sick on the couch in February, 2009.  I was rudderless, and not quite sure where my life was going.  Today, I still don't quite know, but I know what I want.  And I know how to get there.

And I thank each and every one of you for pushing me and supporting me (and sometimes yelling at me).  Because of you all responding to this little niche I've carved out for myself, I realized that who I am, first and foremost, is a writer.

I can't wait to share my adventures with you.

Stay tuned tomorrow for a new blog design...and a new name.  At least, as soon as I think of one.

Fasten your seatbelts, it's going to be a bumpy ride.

Cheers to you, 2010.  Don't let the door hit you where the good Lord split you.

And bring it on, 2011.  Here goes nothing...

ally

Have a holly, jolly Christmas.

Christmas time is the time to be with your family.

A time of giving, and sharing.  (and loving, and receiving...please tell me someone remembers this line from Friends).

It's the time for a self-proclaimed bibliophile to be presented with a Kindle...and kind of fall in love with it.  (Lord, have mercy.)

It's a time to eat good food, and to be with the people that you adore, and to celebrate, of course, the birth of our Lord.  No matter what I sometimes think about the Church as a body of laws, the spirituality of the day always gets to me.  Plus, our new priest managed to use the words "flash mob" "Youtube" and "Facebook" in his homily.  I like this guy.

It's also a time to exchange presents, no matter how...odd.

Never underestimate the power of a good gimmick shirt.  (Hands off, ladies.  That's my little brother.)

There are many pictures from the night that I would love to show you.  However, my little Lovebug is incognito from the interwebs as a whole.  You won't ever see his face on here in respect for my sister's privacy.  Plus, she may have threatened to disembowel me if I ever posted pictures of him.  I like my bowels right where they are, thank you.

Anyway.  You might wonder what I got up to on this Christmas Eve.

Well.  I'm not quite sure how I got from this...

To this...

But I'm pretty sure alcohol was involved.

[[no, that is not Dad, but a childhood friend my mom suckered into playing Santa.  again, alcohol may have been involved.  he also probably lost 20 pounds in that suit.  he's about five feet smaller in real
life.]]

A very merry Christmas to you and yours, from me and mine.

A note to all intrepid elves: Strapping yourself into a onesie after a huge serving of Nonna's Cake is probably not the best move.  Those buttons were in grave peril.  Proceed at your own risk.


ally

all i do is win, win, win, no matter what.

i'm living in the 21st century, doin' something mean to it
do it better than anybody you ever seen do it
screams from the haters got a nice ring to it
i guess every superhero need his theme music...
- kanye west, 'power'

You can say UCLA would kick our ass if we played them.

You can say a high school boy's team would kick our ass if we played them.

You can say Bill Walton would take Maya Moore to the hole.

You can say my father, the man who cried at my high school graduation, who held my hand in support when I was at my lowest, most Godforsaken point, is an arrogant sonofabitch.  (and you'd be right sometimes)

You can say you don't care about women's basketball, which is the main crime we all should accuse mainstream America of, not of rage or irritation, but of total apathy.

You can call us unexciting.

But there is one thing we can say back.

89.


Like it or lump it, we hold the longest winning streak in college basketball.  Men's OR women's.

In the waning moments last night, when the clock wound down and the crowd leapt to their feet in electric joy...all of the years of blood, tears, and sleepless nights ran back in my head like a Rolodex of memories.  All the times I sat in the back of the bus.  The birthdays my father missed.  The times I got made fun of on the playground for having a father who wasn't around.  The messages I'd read on message boards about how my father probably beat my mother at home because he had such a temper on the sidelines.  The heartbreak of losing so many beloved players to injury - Keesha.  Shea.  Sveta.  Caroline.


In that moment...all the pain was worth it.


I wouldn't trade any tear I cried, any heartbeat I skipped watching a game, any horrible thing said about my dad.  None of it.  Because it got us here, today, celebrating a radiant achievement in athletics.

And I know if John Wooden were alive, he would be proud and smiling the way his grandson smiled at the game on Tuesday night.  The way I was proud and smiling of my father, the way my nephew will someday smile and be proud of his Pop-Pop.

89-0.

You can say a lot of shit about me, my family, the team, anybody.  But you will never take that away from us.

ally

PS. It was also fun to see that my one moment of glory on ESPN2 was when I called my brother a 'dumbass'.  I got a lot of messages about that one.

PPS. Talked to Bria last night about the kiss on the cheek Dad gave her after the multiple threes she drained.  She called it "the greatest moment of my life."

PPPS.  HOW GOOD was Buck last night? I was so proud!

Mark Potash, you've got some 'splaining to do.

It's amazing to be part of something so massive.


It's amazing to sit in Madison Square Garden, hearing the crowd chant "88, 88, 88, 88" and feel the chills rise up on the back of your spine, as you slowly stand and begin to chant along with them.  


We don't talk about the streak.  At all.  I haven't really processed it.  But in that moment, when I heard the people of MSG shouting that number...it all kind of coalesced in my head.  The beauty, the power of the moment.  It's enough to bring anyone to their knees.


To watch your father hug his mother and pinch her cheek, shaking his head at the magnitude of it all.


No matter what sport you play, what class, what division...winning 88 games in a row is something to be celebrated on its own merit.  


The INSTANT you throw John Wooden in there, everyone poops their pants.


This is the transcript of an email I wrote to Mark Potash of the Chicago Sun-times about his highly sexist, misogynistic, and overall unfair article.  You can read it here.  It's pretty much stating the obvious of what Dad was trying to convey in his normally polarizing way.  


Also, Gregg Doyle had some interesting things to spout off about here.  BTW Gregg, if UCLA was so loaded like we are today, then why do we applaud THEM?


Mr. Potash,


I found your article on my father's win streak to be highly entertaining.  Yes, I am Geno Auriemma's daughter, the one that blogs.  

Of course, most of the article was grossly exaggerated and hyperbolic, but what journalism today isn't?

My father is not interested in "breaking" UCLA's win streak.  You would be hardpressed to find a man more admiring of John Wooden than my father.  He carries around Wooden's autobiography in his bag.  Gail Goodrich attended our game against Ohio State in Madison Square Garden.  Dad truly respects what UCLA did, and knows they can never match up.  That win streak is like spun gold to my father.  Not to be touched.  This streak is all ours.

Everyone ELSE is matching them up, causing a few people-yourself included, apparently-to get all up in knots and flustered because a women's team can win 88 games in a row. Now, you might come back and say "But a men's team would never be able to do that in this day and age." 

You make it sound like we play easy teams that just lay still and wait for us to kick them into submission.  That's an insult to every team we've competed against.  An insult to C. Vivian Stringer, Doug Bruno, Tara Vanderveer, Jim Foster, Van Chancellor, Harry Perretta, Muffet McGraw, Coquese Washington and company (ETA: Not to mention Renee Montgomery, Tina Charles, Cassie Kerns, Tahirah Williams, Jacquie Fernandes, Tina Charles, Kalana Greene, Kaili Maclaren, Meghan Gardler, and our current senior class of Maya Moore and Lorin Dixon).  It's also an insult to the memory of Maggie Dixon, whose untimely death sparked the tournament held at MSG this weekend, the tournament that we tied the streak in.  

John Wooden himself said that women's basketball was a higher level of sport than men's at the time of his death.  It was a better all-around game.  Women don't fly at the net from the three point line.  They have to connect to each other, experience teamwork, and get the job done without dunks.  Although I could say Maya Moore can flush it, and we've all seen Brittney Griner slam them home.  But that's beside the point.

My Dad would never presume to connect his team to UCLA.  It's like comparing a welterweight to a featherweight in boxing.  Two different classes. Two different records.

Unlike you and your constituents, those of us who are actually passionate about women's basketball recognize that what may happen on Tuesday night is a beautiful, wonderful thing.  Something that should be celebrated on its own.

And journalists like you, Mr. Potash, are spitting in the face of that accomplishment.

I hope we win tomorrow night for our own merit.  So we can sit back and say "wow, we really did something remarkable."  Without UCLA being mentioned.

Yeah, you could write this off as a pissed off daughter trying to clear some debris for dear old Daddy.  And you'd be right, in a way...people have been talking out of the side of their neck about my father for so many years, eventually you tend to brush it aside and move on.  But I felt compelled to write this, and I was not goaded into it by an outside force.  There have been far too many people making inane statements over the last few weeks, not least of all Bryant Gumbel on Real Sports who clearly needs to brush up on his women's basketball knowledge (not like he would, though...)

And in regards to the 'in the kitchen' comment...it may just get my goat a little bit that after 25 years people still don't understand when my dad is making a joke. A very appropriate, razor-sharp, and timely joke.  But a joke nonetheless.  (he is, however, just stating the worst of what people have written on message boards throughout the years about women's basketball).  Our streak is bringing out some horrifying sexism in the state of American sports.

You can't say that people don't care about this game, or about our team.  Because let's face it...you wouldn't have been forced to write that article if people didn't care. 

Yes, most people in the United States don't really care about women's basketball.  It's a fact.  But that doesn't make it right.

Alysa Auriemma

PS.  We aren't even breaking the longest win streak in overall basketball history, as I hope you know.  That streak is held by the Wayland Baptist Flying Queens of the 1940s.  We still have some ways to go before that one.

ETA: I told my father about the article, and about my rebuttal.  His whole point of the press conference was to say that if it weren't for the fact we were breaking UCLA's record, no one would care.  And if we break it tonight, people still won't care.  He's not whining about it.  He's stating bald facts.  People in this country don't care about women's basketball, the same way Sarah Palin doesn't care about the health of our children or John McCain doesn't care about the homophobic state of our military.  These are facts.  That does not make it right.

Also, some people are saying "Why can't they just celebrate it on its own instead of having to compare themselves to the men?" EXACTLY THE DAMN POINT.  DON'T COMPARE IT TO THE MEN'S RECORD.  What we may accomplish tonight is stunning on its own.

I wish I hadn't had to complain about anyone or anything today.  Today is supposed to be an awesome day full of alumni, friends, and the sold-out crowd at the XL Center.  But instead, i have to deal with sexism on a massive scale.  And I haven't even digested my oatmeal yet.

See, this is where it pays to be a writer.  Because it's a crime to beat up the people who talk crap about my family or about the team.  It's not a crime to write about it.  

Perhaps the sword truly is mightier than the pen.  And besides, the pen can do a hell of a lot of damage, if Jeff Jacob's "Soupy Sales" article from 1998 is any indicator (oh, you think I forgot about that one?).  

But anything can happen, right? It's the winter solstice.  Yule.  A time to relax, to let go, and to celebrate with ones you love.  Here's hoping I have a ton to celebrate tonight...

Ally

PS.  Someone asked me to do a list of my favorite Christmas songs.  That will come later today.  I couldn't have something so lighthearted in a post like this.  Although maybe it would have tempered the mood?

feel the rhythm, feel the rhyme!

I was thinking I'd have much more anxiety on this, my first real trip to the city since I moved back last year.  I've had some times where I've come up here for dinner with friends, sure.  But those were less than 24 hours.

And shockingly? I've had a blast.  I know, crazy right?  Although I am pretty happy I never lived here during the holidays.  Those streets are choked with people and most of them don't know how to walk on NYC streets (fast, furious, and direct).  

Yesterday we got on the bus and drove down early in the day, in order to get time to collect ourselves and have an early dinner since shootaround was so early this morning.  I was thrilled to realize that the backseat of the bus was still vacated, however I must say it wasn't the same without Kaili (Miss you, buddy!).  I did get a huge kick out of the fact that Marisa had brought the movie Cool Runnings for us to watch on the way into the city.  I absolutely loved that movie as a kid, so to have it brought back for the trip was a nice trip down memory lane.  I think for the ride back we'll watch Love Actually (and not just because that's the one movie I brought as well).  

We got to the hotel and had about an hour to hang out until dinner, and I basically did nothing but sit around, watch Shrek 2, and outfit plan.  We ended up going to dinner at Del Frisco's, a pretty great steakhouse in the Midtown area, right by Radio City Music Hall.  I sat in between everyone at the table, across from some managers and next to Kelly Faris. Now, I will not lie...this place was amazing.  And I think eating with the team causes me to instantly gain a pants size, because DAMN, those girls can put it down.  Our waitress wasn't helping, either.  She was a former gymnast, she told us, and kept recommending things for the carbs and antioxidants.  By the time I was served my sea bass with sundried tomatoes, I honestly didn't care if she had brought me a piece of kombu on a plate.  I would've eaten it.

The best part of the entire meal? I've given up any notion of ordering anything other than water when I dine with the team.  One time back in Dayton I asked my Dad if it were possible to get a glass of wine, and he looked at me and just laughed.  This time? I was about to pull a piece of bread from the communal hunk when Mom called to me.  "You want a glass of wine?" she mouthed.

Yes, my friends.  At 25 years old, I am now officially old enough to have a glass of wine at dinner with the team.  I felt so grown up.  Angels may have sung.  I immediately got a class of the 1995 cab (it was between that or the 1996...and we lost at the Final Four in 1996.  Who am I to jinx us?) and sipped some cool, dry heaven.  And then felt really weird for drinking booze right next to the team.  What can I say? I still remember ordering chicken fingers at the kids table while Jen, JJ and Rebecca sat at the other side.

The entire meal wasn't memorable, however.  The sweet potato side we ordered was greatly anticipated but I was severely disappointed.  It was like eating hot brown sugar.  Far too sweet for my tastes.  If you like a really good sweet potato dish, make my mom's.  Which you can, if you go to CPTV.org!

[[side note: How Guido is the opening of that segment, with the bones and stuff going into the pot and the traditional Italian music? Absolutely hysterical.  And Dad with the Dos Equis side commentary? Stay thirsty, mi amici.]]

After dinner, we had the option of either going on the bus back to the hotel or trekking it on foot.  I was weighing my decision but quickly it was made for me by our waiter. I had asked for a cup of decaf coffee to go, so I could have something warm to top off the meal.  Our waiter came back with a bag for me.  "We don't have to-go cups," he proclaimed.  I looked in the bag.

In the bag was a Tupperware container with hot coffee in it.  I quickly parsed that Starbucks would be in my future.

I decided to walk back with Stefanie, Lauren, Caroline, Buck, and the managers.  It was definitely an experience.  Lauren was wearing a hat with ears on it, much to the chagrin of Caroline and Stefanie.  Caroline looked at the wares of the bootleggers on the side streets and asked "If they stole those bags themselves, is it a crime if I steal one?" We dealt with someone from another school's band (probably Rutgers) yelling "UCONN SUCKS" as they walked by.  Caroline, when she wasn't effectively maneuvering us through the streets of New York (yelling "You gotta know how to walk on a city street!") also tried to panhandle at the base of the 30 Rock tree, although it's hard to beg for money when you're wearing a Burberry scarf.  And we pondered if going into the Adidas store would get us sniped by Nike cops.  

As for me? I lusted after Lanvin for H&M in the storefront, marveled at the Cartier Christmas window (it looks like they wrapped the entire building in a glittery bow), froze some toes, and did not see a single Starbucks the entire walk until we got a block away from the hotel.  This after going three avenues and seven city blocks.  Not a red cup in sight.  I was pretty surprised by this, since when I lived in the Village there was literally a Sbux every four feet.  Once I secured my venti decaf, I made it back to my hotel somewhat in one piece (although my feet would disagree with me), snuggled up in bed, and watched A Very Potter Musical.  If you have not seen that brilliant piece of theatre student creativity and hilariousness starring the gay kid on Glee who is not Kurt, get thee to a Youtube or Voldemort will sic his Zefron poster on you.

This morning, I got up and hit the elliptical at the gym.  It was pretty quiet in there, so I rocked out loudly to my playlist and watched a bit of Australia on HBO (I think if Nicole Kidman doesn't win an Oscar eventually her Botox will win it for her.  Holy lip plumpage).  I also watched a bit of coverage on our game for ESPN.  I don't like it at all that we're playing a truly monumental game on the dweeby sister of the ESPN family, but it'll have to do, I guess.  

After my workout and a delicious egg and toast breakfast in the hotel restaurant (I apologize, Grand Hyatt, for sweating all over the nice swivel chairs), I came back up to my room, where I am currently blogging.  And seething, a little bit, to be honest.

Poor Digger Phelps.  Is he still mad we beat ND by a hundred at the first ever College Game Day? Of course it's not the same.  We're not saying it's the same.  It's completely and utterly different.  Nobody ever compares the records set by a welterweight with those set by a featherweight or a heavyweight.  They are in entirely different boxing methods and classes.  It's entirely different.  Yes, we are in the same books as UCLA, perhaps even the same paragraphs.  But just look at the accomplishments of the team as just that-of our team.

And as for YOU, Shaughnessy...I will have you know my Dad never intentionally runs up the score.  Ever since we slaughtered Providence in 1998 (we scored 128 points in that game), Dad makes every possible concession to not score and keep the game respectable.  Sometimes the blowouts get big, but it's never to shame the other player.  We play great.  We play big.  We play awesome.

It's time the rest of the basketball world took notice and caught up to our standards.

All that being said...it's so bittersweet that our game today takes place against Ohio State, and Jim Foster.  I love Jim.  He's a great guy.  His son took my sister to prom.  I sat in the crowd at the Rosemont in 1996 and hoped to God we'd win, but felt so bad we beat Vanderbilt and Jim.  I feel the same whenever we visit Villanova, or when Pat Knapp coached at Georgetown, or when we played Pitt when Shea coached there, or when we had our annual New Year's Eve game against Hartford.  It's always bittersweet to play (and sometimes beat very badly) people you know and really like.  Now, I'm in no way saying we'll beat Ohio State today.  They're very good.  Samantha Prahalis and Jantel Lavender are crazy gifted.

But I like to call it the case of Angel McCaughtry.  Stay with me here, this will all make sense.

When we played Louisville in the 08-09 season, I asked Dad how we would beat them with such a force like Angel.  Dad's method was simple.  "Angel's going to score 40 anyway.  She can do whatever she wants.  It's the rest of them you have to watch out for.  So either she scores 40 and we win, or she scores 10 and we lose.  We have to stop the rest of them, because you can't stop Angel."

This can apply to any really good team, really.  Even to our team.  You can't stop Maya, but try to stop the rest of them.  You can't stop Samantha, Jantel, Nneka, Brittney.  But what about the others? Remember, we didn't almost lose to Baylor because of Brittney.  We almost lost because of Odyssey Sims.

But we won against Baylor.  And it wasn't due to Maya.  It was all thanks to Bria Hartley.  Those are the ones you gotta watch out for.

And now, it's time for me to get ready for a showdown at the Garden.  I hope all the creamed corn from last night settled in...

ally

PS. Yes, I got quoted in Sports Illustrated calling Bryant Gumbel an 'epic douche'.  I don't take it back for a second.  Women having agency in athletics really brings out the worst in people, doesn't it? I also got described as being my "father's daughter." And darn proud of it.