Lisa Olson Ncaa Basketball

NEW YORK -- Rick Pitino would like you to know one thing: His tawdry sex affair with a woman who faces federal charges of extortion and lying to the FBI is not going to have the slightest impact on his Louisville basketball team.

There are still plenty of legal hurdles to overcome and motions to be made before the case goes to trial and Pitino is summoned to the witness stand, where presumably his testimony against Karen Sypher will reveal even more salacious details about their romp in a Louisville restaurant, and the subsequent fallout that has engulfed the university's athletic department.

Beyond Pitino, the scandal has scarred Tim Sypher, who is now the operations director of the Cardinals' new gym and who was the team's equipment manager. Tim married Karen (they are now divorced) after she either had consensual sex with Pitino or was assaulted by him against her will -- it's a complicated connection that perhaps the trial will help unravel. The scandal has also greatly impacted Pitino's wife of 33 years, his five children, his extended New York family, Louisville's Catholic community where Pitino worships and pretty much anyone who has a rooting interest in the Cardinals.

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GLENDALE, Ariz. - They steered clear of the net. A ladder rested underneath the basket, waiting for someone to climb it. The twine dangled, waiting for someone to snip it. Instead, the University of Connecticut players and coaches purposely walked on by, as if the traditional removal of the net and wearing it around the neck might jinx the journey.

"It was a team decision because we've got bigger goals," UConn guard A.J. Price was saying after the Huskies beat Missouri, 82-75, in Saturday's Elite Eight West Regional Final and advanced to the Final Four. "We can cut down a net in Detroit."

GLENDALE, Ariz. -- Marcus Denmon already had his one shining moment, that freeze-frame picture to keep for a lifetime, long after the highlights of this NCAA tournament fade.

The Missouri freshman snagged an inbounds pass Thursday night, sidestepped to avoid a hand waving in his face, and let history fly. From three-quarters out, with the halftime buzzer about to blare, Denmon's fling dropped flawlessly through the twine to put his team up by 13, and from that second on Mizzou knew it had been touched by something special, something only a handful of teams get to experience as March rushes to a close.

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GLENDALE, Ariz. -- The questions, gentle and revolving around basketball, were over, and most of the media had scrambled out of the room when Jim Calhoun, still sitting at the podium, cleared his throat.

"I have one thing to say," said the Connecticut coach, grabbing the microphone, and this time his voice sounded authoritative, confident, as if he had finally come to grips with the scandal banging at his front door. Calhoun proceeded to announce that at 7:00 Thursday morning, roughly 12 hours before the Huskies put the finishing touches on a 72-60 win over Purdue in the NCAA West Regional, he had spoken by phone with UConn athletic director Jeff Hathaway -- a conversation Calhoun characterized as "very fruitful."

NEW YORK – Terrence Williams curled his body into a crouch, half walking on his tiptoes, half stalking the prey. He was heading toward the Louisville bench, but on the way he made sure to jump-and-bump any Cardinals in sight, to yank on their jerseys and double slap their chests.

NEW YORK -- What a breeze, overtime.

"We're getting used to it, yeah," Jonny Flynn, Syracuse's precocious sophomore guard was saying as he bounced off the Madison Square Garden parquet early Saturday morning, destined for another late-night dinner of fast food and an evening date in the Big East championship. His legs were rubber, his energy indefatigable, his smile glowing like a neon light. They don't know for sure, but Flynn's teammates swear he grins in his sleep. And really, who can
blame him?

NEW YORK -- Most of the scalpers still hadn't found their way to the Madison Square Garden foyer when the first miracle of March began taking root inside the old joint on 33rd street. The sleepy crowd barely tipped into the hundreds, and the squeak of sneakers kissing parquet could be heard above the sound of individual claps.

Then a kid with the lyrical name of Matija Postic slipped in a putback and whispers oozed into a low roar. Could it be? Were the DePaul Blue Demons on the verge of authoring the month's earliest moments of madness?