Pregame: Illinois vs Syracuse, Tuesday, November 29th, 6:30pm CT, ESPN

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#76      

pruman91

Paducah, Ky
Elite focus Pru. I would've lost count at #27.
lol..............I had just toked a bowl of Heady Betty and had to pause and recount a couple of times.........But , I was raised to complete all tasks at hand and persevered with this task for the benefit of all interested parties........This is in no way a judgment of your # 27 plateau..........JMHO.....
 
#77      

pruman91

Paducah, Ky
210 times... UH you sure???
cwplus66.jpg


Uh , yeah , I think so .............................................

tz12.gif


That's the , uh , way I sees it.......
 
#78      
They are pretty long and athletic. Not bad defensively.
The numbers kinda suggest otherwise, long or not. They're probably better than they were last year but that's not saying a whole lot...
 
#81      

Bwalk

Independence KY
In 1994, after working abroad for three years, I spent a summer on trains around Europe before moving to Chicago. By the time I got to the Czech Republic, Hungary and Poland in mid-July it was hot as Hades, and the humidity was stifling. No a/c anywhere, the hangover of the Soviet collapse omnipresent, grown men having fistfights in the street in broad daylight over trivialities, palpable desperation and resignation everywhere I went (except Prague, which was a complete party), roach-infested dirty hostels. Just a rough, unpleasant environment in so many places and ways.

I finally got out of there and headed north to Sweden to end my trip. Took a daytime train from Krakow through balls-hot Silesia in southern Poland. I still remember rolling through the steel mill town of Katowice, where the complexion of everyone I saw was literally gray from decades of unmitigated Soviet steel mill pollution and many probably died before they turned 60. (Years later I had a colleague who worked in the Peace Corps in Katowice and confirmed just how horrible a place it was.) Ended up in Wroclaw, where I stood nearly alone on a platform awaiting my night train. On the neighboring platform, which was packed, a train pulled up and a wave of humanity tried to board it, climbing in through windows, people pushing, shoving and fighting for seats. It was anarchy, a bad dream.

I fell asleep not long after the overnight train departed for Dresden and the Baltic coast. I'd been relentlessly sweating, staying in hovels, and surrounded by social misery for the better part of two weeks. At one point the Polish transit police shook me down for $20 in cash and threatened to jail me. In the Czech Republic a very, very strong drunk tried to assault the two mothers and their three young daughters I happened to be sharing a train carriage with and I (not anywhere near the strapping lad I am today at 56) had to fend him off for an hour.

I wondered why the he!! I'd ever left Switzerland and Austria and veered into Eastern Europe to begin with.

In the morning I woke up as the train rolled onto a ferry headed for Trelleborg on the Swedish coast. It was much cooler but overcast. By the time I'd had sufficient coffee and a good meal, I was on a train headed north for Gothenberg and the clouds had dissipated. When I got there, I dumped my bags in the local hostel. It was clean, spacious, and every conceivable surface was covered with smooth blond wood. The clerk at check-in was friendly and offered advice about the city. They had a sauna out back.

I showered. I ate Nutella, and had some sort of scone with lingonberry jam. The coffee, freshly-brewed, was dark and strong. I walked outside and there was not a cloud in the sky. The humidity was low. It was perhaps 75 degrees. I took a tram to the end of the line at a seaside suburb. I sat on the rocks by the harbor. Everyone looked healthy, radiant and happy. All the women were beautiful. I felt as if I had entered nirvana.

When I watch a presser that BU or BB give these days, I'm mindful of how long Illini fans have inhabited Eastern Europe c. 1994. And that we are now in Sweden, basking in the late July sun. Cleanliness, good food and drink, beautiful women (and men) everywhere, a cold beer in hand. And dark, relentless winter nowhere on the horizon.
I love this
 
#82      
If we have 20 turnovers I think we lose to Boeheim
 
#83      
In 1994, after working abroad for three years, I spent a summer on trains around Europe before moving to Chicago. By the time I got to the Czech Republic, Hungary and Poland in mid-July it was hot as Hades, and the humidity was stifling. No a/c anywhere, the hangover of the Soviet collapse omnipresent, grown men having fistfights in the street in broad daylight over trivialities, palpable desperation and resignation everywhere I went (except Prague, which was a complete party), roach-infested dirty hostels. Just a rough, unpleasant environment in so many places and ways.

I finally got out of there and headed north to Sweden to end my trip. Took a daytime train from Krakow through balls-hot Silesia in southern Poland. I still remember rolling through the steel mill town of Katowice, where the complexion of everyone I saw was literally gray from decades of unmitigated Soviet steel mill pollution and many probably died before they turned 60. (Years later I had a colleague who worked in the Peace Corps in Katowice and confirmed just how horrible a place it was.) Ended up in Wroclaw, where I stood nearly alone on a platform awaiting my night train. On the neighboring platform, which was packed, a train pulled up and a wave of humanity tried to board it, climbing in through windows, people pushing, shoving and fighting for seats. It was anarchy, a bad dream.

I fell asleep not long after the overnight train departed for Dresden and the Baltic coast. I'd been relentlessly sweating, staying in hovels, and surrounded by social misery for the better part of two weeks. At one point the Polish transit police shook me down for $20 in cash and threatened to jail me. In the Czech Republic a very, very strong drunk tried to assault the two mothers and their three young daughters I happened to be sharing a train carriage with and I (not anywhere near the strapping lad I am today at 56) had to fend him off for an hour.

I wondered why the he!! I'd ever left Switzerland and Austria and veered into Eastern Europe to begin with.

In the morning I woke up as the train rolled onto a ferry headed for Trelleborg on the Swedish coast. It was much cooler but overcast. By the time I'd had sufficient coffee and a good meal, I was on a train headed north for Gothenberg and the clouds had dissipated. When I got there, I dumped my bags in the local hostel. It was clean, spacious, and every conceivable surface was covered with smooth blond wood. The clerk at check-in was friendly and offered advice about the city. They had a sauna out back.

I showered. I ate Nutella, and had some sort of scone with lingonberry jam. The coffee, freshly-brewed, was dark and strong. I walked outside and there was not a cloud in the sky. The humidity was low. It was perhaps 75 degrees. I took a tram to the end of the line at a seaside suburb. I sat on the rocks by the harbor. Everyone looked healthy, radiant and happy. All the women were beautiful. I felt as if I had entered nirvana.

When I watch a presser that BU or BB give these days, I'm mindful of how long Illini fans have inhabited Eastern Europe c. 1994. And that we are now in Sweden, basking in the late July sun. Cleanliness, good food and drink, beautiful women (and men) everywhere, a cold beer in hand. And dark, relentless winter nowhere on the horizon.
I was ready to buy the book halfway through.
 
#84      

InDaAZ

Eugene, Oregon
In 1994, after working abroad for three years, I spent a summer on trains around Europe before moving to Chicago. By the time I got to the Czech Republic, Hungary and Poland in mid-July it was hot as Hades, and the humidity was stifling. No a/c anywhere, the hangover of the Soviet collapse omnipresent, grown men having fistfights in the street in broad daylight over trivialities, palpable desperation and resignation everywhere I went (except Prague, which was a complete party), roach-infested dirty hostels. Just a rough, unpleasant environment in so many places and ways.

I finally got out of there and headed north to Sweden to end my trip. Took a daytime train from Krakow through balls-hot Silesia in southern Poland. I still remember rolling through the steel mill town of Katowice, where the complexion of everyone I saw was literally gray from decades of unmitigated Soviet steel mill pollution and many probably died before they turned 60. (Years later I had a colleague who worked in the Peace Corps in Katowice and confirmed just how horrible a place it was.) Ended up in Wroclaw, where I stood nearly alone on a platform awaiting my night train. On the neighboring platform, which was packed, a train pulled up and a wave of humanity tried to board it, climbing in through windows, people pushing, shoving and fighting for seats. It was anarchy, a bad dream.

I fell asleep not long after the overnight train departed for Dresden and the Baltic coast. I'd been relentlessly sweating, staying in hovels, and surrounded by social misery for the better part of two weeks. At one point the Polish transit police shook me down for $20 in cash and threatened to jail me. In the Czech Republic a very, very strong drunk tried to assault the two mothers and their three young daughters I happened to be sharing a train carriage with and I (not anywhere near the strapping lad I am today at 56) had to fend him off for an hour.

I wondered why the he!! I'd ever left Switzerland and Austria and veered into Eastern Europe to begin with.

In the morning I woke up as the train rolled onto a ferry headed for Trelleborg on the Swedish coast. It was much cooler but overcast. By the time I'd had sufficient coffee and a good meal, I was on a train headed north for Gothenberg and the clouds had dissipated. When I got there, I dumped my bags in the local hostel. It was clean, spacious, and every conceivable surface was covered with smooth blond wood. The clerk at check-in was friendly and offered advice about the city. They had a sauna out back.

I showered. I ate Nutella, and had some sort of scone with lingonberry jam. The coffee, freshly-brewed, was dark and strong. I walked outside and there was not a cloud in the sky. The humidity was low. It was perhaps 75 degrees. I took a tram to the end of the line at a seaside suburb. I sat on the rocks by the harbor. Everyone looked healthy, radiant and happy. All the women were beautiful. I felt as if I had entered nirvana.

When I watch a presser that BU or BB give these days, I'm mindful of how long Illini fans have inhabited Eastern Europe c. 1994. And that we are now in Sweden, basking in the late July sun. Cleanliness, good food and drink, beautiful women (and men) everywhere, a cold beer in hand. And dark, relentless winter nowhere on the horizon.
Where do we Venmo you to get chapter 2?
 
#85      
agree with Underwood, you can't have more Turnovers than Assists and expect to do much. Once teams learn they can just converge on Dain and he will give it right back, that's a world of hurt.
 
#87      

Captain 14

The Last Best Place
In 1994, after working abroad for three years, I spent a summer on trains around Europe before moving to Chicago. By the time I got to the Czech Republic, Hungary and Poland in mid-July it was hot as Hades, and the humidity was stifling. No a/c anywhere, the hangover of the Soviet collapse omnipresent, grown men having fistfights in the street in broad daylight over trivialities, palpable desperation and resignation everywhere I went (except Prague, which was a complete party), roach-infested dirty hostels. Just a rough, unpleasant environment in so many places and ways.

I finally got out of there and headed north to Sweden to end my trip. Took a daytime train from Krakow through balls-hot Silesia in southern Poland. I still remember rolling through the steel mill town of Katowice, where the complexion of everyone I saw was literally gray from decades of unmitigated Soviet steel mill pollution and many probably died before they turned 60. (Years later I had a colleague who worked in the Peace Corps in Katowice and confirmed just how horrible a place it was.) Ended up in Wroclaw, where I stood nearly alone on a platform awaiting my night train. On the neighboring platform, which was packed, a train pulled up and a wave of humanity tried to board it, climbing in through windows, people pushing, shoving and fighting for seats. It was anarchy, a bad dream.

I fell asleep not long after the overnight train departed for Dresden and the Baltic coast. I'd been relentlessly sweating, staying in hovels, and surrounded by social misery for the better part of two weeks. At one point the Polish transit police shook me down for $20 in cash and threatened to jail me. In the Czech Republic a very, very strong drunk tried to assault the two mothers and their three young daughters I happened to be sharing a train carriage with and I (not anywhere near the strapping lad I am today at 56) had to fend him off for an hour.

I wondered why the he!! I'd ever left Switzerland and Austria and veered into Eastern Europe to begin with.

In the morning I woke up as the train rolled onto a ferry headed for Trelleborg on the Swedish coast. It was much cooler but overcast. By the time I'd had sufficient coffee and a good meal, I was on a train headed north for Gothenberg and the clouds had dissipated. When I got there, I dumped my bags in the local hostel. It was clean, spacious, and every conceivable surface was covered with smooth blond wood. The clerk at check-in was friendly and offered advice about the city. They had a sauna out back.

I showered. I ate Nutella, and had some sort of scone with lingonberry jam. The coffee, freshly-brewed, was dark and strong. I walked outside and there was not a cloud in the sky. The humidity was low. It was perhaps 75 degrees. I took a tram to the end of the line at a seaside suburb. I sat on the rocks by the harbor. Everyone looked healthy, radiant and happy. All the women were beautiful. I felt as if I had entered nirvana.

When I watch a presser that BU or BB give these days, I'm mindful of how long Illini fans have inhabited Eastern Europe c. 1994. And that we are now in Sweden, basking in the late July sun. Cleanliness, good food and drink, beautiful women (and men) everywhere, a cold beer in hand. And dark, relentless winter nowhere on the horizon.
I was wondering what ever happened to J. Peterman. Thanks for that!
 
#88      

sacraig

The desert
In 1994, after working abroad for three years, I spent a summer on trains around Europe before moving to Chicago. By the time I got to the Czech Republic, Hungary and Poland in mid-July it was hot as Hades, and the humidity was stifling. No a/c anywhere, the hangover of the Soviet collapse omnipresent, grown men having fistfights in the street in broad daylight over trivialities, palpable desperation and resignation everywhere I went (except Prague, which was a complete party), roach-infested dirty hostels. Just a rough, unpleasant environment in so many places and ways.

I finally got out of there and headed north to Sweden to end my trip. Took a daytime train from Krakow through balls-hot Silesia in southern Poland. I still remember rolling through the steel mill town of Katowice, where the complexion of everyone I saw was literally gray from decades of unmitigated Soviet steel mill pollution and many probably died before they turned 60. (Years later I had a colleague who worked in the Peace Corps in Katowice and confirmed just how horrible a place it was.) Ended up in Wroclaw, where I stood nearly alone on a platform awaiting my night train. On the neighboring platform, which was packed, a train pulled up and a wave of humanity tried to board it, climbing in through windows, people pushing, shoving and fighting for seats. It was anarchy, a bad dream.

I fell asleep not long after the overnight train departed for Dresden and the Baltic coast. I'd been relentlessly sweating, staying in hovels, and surrounded by social misery for the better part of two weeks. At one point the Polish transit police shook me down for $20 in cash and threatened to jail me. In the Czech Republic a very, very strong drunk tried to assault the two mothers and their three young daughters I happened to be sharing a train carriage with and I (not anywhere near the strapping lad I am today at 56) had to fend him off for an hour.

I wondered why the he!! I'd ever left Switzerland and Austria and veered into Eastern Europe to begin with.

In the morning I woke up as the train rolled onto a ferry headed for Trelleborg on the Swedish coast. It was much cooler but overcast. By the time I'd had sufficient coffee and a good meal, I was on a train headed north for Gothenberg and the clouds had dissipated. When I got there, I dumped my bags in the local hostel. It was clean, spacious, and every conceivable surface was covered with smooth blond wood. The clerk at check-in was friendly and offered advice about the city. They had a sauna out back.

I showered. I ate Nutella, and had some sort of scone with lingonberry jam. The coffee, freshly-brewed, was dark and strong. I walked outside and there was not a cloud in the sky. The humidity was low. It was perhaps 75 degrees. I took a tram to the end of the line at a seaside suburb. I sat on the rocks by the harbor. Everyone looked healthy, radiant and happy. All the women were beautiful. I felt as if I had entered nirvana.

When I watch a presser that BU or BB give these days, I'm mindful of how long Illini fans have inhabited Eastern Europe c. 1994. And that we are now in Sweden, basking in the late July sun. Cleanliness, good food and drink, beautiful women (and men) everywhere, a cold beer in hand. And dark, relentless winter nowhere on the horizon.
Roller Coaster Love GIF
 
#91      
You could likely put the four big guys on a dart board and throw a dart to pick a good choice for the middle guy against a zone.. They are all strong perimeter shooters and passers, With that said, a rotation could work just fine. The most important aspect is the passing must be focused, shots executed without rush, and hitting the boards hard on both ends.

And I might add, defend like banshees...if they don't score they can't win.
I'm going to go out on a limb and guess you are from my generation. I refer to these same banshees whenever I'm talking about shooting, running, swearing, hitting, kicking, and of course the original, screaming like a banshee. I've even been known to say it was raining like a banshee. My grandkids want to know who these special banshee people are.
 
#92      
Look what happened when Michigan State was down a few [players from suspensions. Wounded dogs are dangerous.
True, but they did not talk smack or an issue a verbal incentive. In this social media driven age, I am sure Boeheim's statement has been seen and heard more than once.
 
#93      
I want to say we crush them, but I can’t help but get flashbacks to that home game a few years back against a “struggling” Miami team. My gut says this game is closer than it should be, but I think we pull out the W.
I think you are right. They will play at a slow pace and good defense. This will be a lot like the Virginia game but they are not quite that good. If we turn the ball over 20 times, we lose.
 
#95      
The numbers kinda suggest otherwise, long or not. They're probably better than they were last year but that's not saying a whole lot...
Yeah...allowing bad teams to shoot 40% against you (and 35% from 3) isn't indicative of a good defensive team.
 
#98      
In 1994, after working abroad for three years, I spent a summer on trains around Europe before moving to Chicago. By the time I got to the Czech Republic, Hungary and Poland in mid-July it was hot as Hades, and the humidity was stifling. No a/c anywhere, the hangover of the Soviet collapse omnipresent, grown men having fistfights in the street in broad daylight over trivialities, palpable desperation and resignation everywhere I went (except Prague, which was a complete party), roach-infested dirty hostels. Just a rough, unpleasant environment in so many places and ways.

I finally got out of there and headed north to Sweden to end my trip. Took a daytime train from Krakow through balls-hot Silesia in southern Poland. I still remember rolling through the steel mill town of Katowice, where the complexion of everyone I saw was literally gray from decades of unmitigated Soviet steel mill pollution and many probably died before they turned 60. (Years later I had a colleague who worked in the Peace Corps in Katowice and confirmed just how horrible a place it was.) Ended up in Wroclaw, where I stood nearly alone on a platform awaiting my night train. On the neighboring platform, which was packed, a train pulled up and a wave of humanity tried to board it, climbing in through windows, people pushing, shoving and fighting for seats. It was anarchy, a bad dream.

I fell asleep not long after the overnight train departed for Dresden and the Baltic coast. I'd been relentlessly sweating, staying in hovels, and surrounded by social misery for the better part of two weeks. At one point the Polish transit police shook me down for $20 in cash and threatened to jail me. In the Czech Republic a very, very strong drunk tried to assault the two mothers and their three young daughters I happened to be sharing a train carriage with and I (not anywhere near the strapping lad I am today at 56) had to fend him off for an hour.

I wondered why the he!! I'd ever left Switzerland and Austria and veered into Eastern Europe to begin with.

In the morning I woke up as the train rolled onto a ferry headed for Trelleborg on the Swedish coast. It was much cooler but overcast. By the time I'd had sufficient coffee and a good meal, I was on a train headed north for Gothenberg and the clouds had dissipated. When I got there, I dumped my bags in the local hostel. It was clean, spacious, and every conceivable surface was covered with smooth blond wood. The clerk at check-in was friendly and offered advice about the city. They had a sauna out back.

I showered. I ate Nutella, and had some sort of scone with lingonberry jam. The coffee, freshly-brewed, was dark and strong. I walked outside and there was not a cloud in the sky. The humidity was low. It was perhaps 75 degrees. I took a tram to the end of the line at a seaside suburb. I sat on the rocks by the harbor. Everyone looked healthy, radiant and happy. All the women were beautiful. I felt as if I had entered nirvana.

When I watch a presser that BU or BB give these days, I'm mindful of how long Illini fans have inhabited Eastern Europe c. 1994. And that we are now in Sweden, basking in the late July sun. Cleanliness, good food and drink, beautiful women (and men) everywhere, a cold beer in hand. And dark, relentless winter nowhere on the horizon.

Haiku circa 21st century

1994 was many years ago I remember nothing
 
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