The Ice- On, Through, and Out

Part I: Escape from the Ice

Saturday I almost froze. Or drowned. Or whatever happens to you when you fall through ice into water. It was not good.

I was cross-country skiing in the 1000 Islands. It was a sunny day, no warmer than 20 degrees. I set out across the Eel Bay ice fearlessly because, well, there were about a hundred people out there ice fishing, driving around on ATVs, and even bringing their pick-ups out onto the ice.

I skied over a mile on the ice, far from shore, approaching the southwest tip of Wellesley Island. I had to go just around this point to reach our family cabin. Close to the peninsula the ice changed. It became extremely rough, with slabs of ice overlapping each other as though the surface had pushed up against itself. This is where I wish I had realized that just because the ice is solid in one section, and solid in another section, it doesn't mean it is solid in between those two sections. As it turns out, the current does something funny at that point which keeps the ice thin even when the adjacent bay is firmly frozen over. Sadly, that information could have helped me.

The rough patch ended and I was back on smoother ice, zipping along. But I started to hear creaking. My head reasoned, "It's just a little shifting ice," which was true, but it was shifting...ah...significantly. The creaking continued, making me nervous, so I started to steer towards shore. I was about 30 yards from the bank when CRASH. I dropped through.

Frightened. Floundering. Freezing. Not making progress. I had to get my skis off before I did anything else. That meant reaching my arm into the freezing water and, one at a time, depressing the release button that I normally operate by leaning my entire weight on my ski pole. It took a few nervous moments but I got them free. I shot my skis toward the shore. One made it. The other slid off to the side. I would return later with a kayak, a long rope, and my father to retrieve my poles and ski. Now, I was more concerned with getting to shore.

I was in over my waste, and already soaked from the fall. I couldn't walk forward because of the ice. I jumped and tried to flop onto it. CRACK. Back in the water. With no other strategy coming to mind, I repeated the process. CRACK. Back in the water. CRACK. Back in the water. I was making progress. I could tell the ice was actually getting thicker and I was gradually getting close to the shore. CRACK. Back in the water. CRACK. Back in the water. And then the ice held. I pulled myself onto my feet and struggled to shore, gasping and groaning.

Clothes off! That's the process I knew from stories. I reached down to take off my soaked pants and found... they were already down to my ankles. I hadn't noticed because my legs were numb. I pulled my pants the rest of the way off, then ripped off my gloves and jacket. I was left in a soaked Underarmor top, underwear, and ski boots.

Next problem: I was on dry land, yes, but I was also at the bottom of a twenty foot cliff. I could inch along the shore but... No, the quickest way was up. I clambered up the cliff, taking just enough time to make sure I had a hand-hold and foot-hold for each movement.

At the top I started running. I burst from a bit of woods into a cluster of cabins and started shouting!

"Help! Help! Help!" I considered my appearance. Nearly-naked, shouting hysterically. If I saw someone running around, looking like that, I would think that he was either A.) on drugs or B.) had fallen in the river.

"Help! I fell in!" I clarified. "Help! I fell in!" No one was around anyway. There was nothing else to do but run the 1/4 mile back to our cabin. More ice trouble. I strode onto a snow-covered sheet, slipping on my back painfully. In retrospect, the pain was a good sign. Feeling is good, numbness, bad.

I chugged up the hill to our cabin. Our family dog, Mussie, stared confusedly at me as I arrived. Normally, she would have run up to me, jumping and playing, but she knew something was wrong.

I burst into the house. "I fell in! I fell through the ice!" My mom didn't know what to do. "I need a blanket!" Undressing, I wrapped it around myself. My parents sandwiched me to warm me up. Quickly, my hands and legs started to throb. That was a good sign, I realized. I was going to be fine.

I have no idea how much time elapsed between the moment when I fell in and the moment I got back home. I would guess five minutes or so. I was probably in the water about a minute. And it took about five minutes to shake off the freezing feeling once I was in the blanket. I hopped into a steamy shower to complete the process. And that's the story. All's well, that ends well. (iPhone pending... I had it with me to use the RunKeeper app. It's currently residing in a bag of dry rice.)

Part II: Wherein I Use the Ice Story to Draw a Vaguely Useful Metaphor For the Syracuse Orange Basketball Team

Despite my exceedingly rosy perspective on Syracuse basketball in general and, out of loyalty, Scoop Jardine in particular, I'm not blind to Scoop's defects. His turnovers always seem more horrendous, and his bad shots seem more ill-advised than anyone else on the team. He seems to make more than his fair share of stupid plays. But I think the thing that I really love about him is the same thing that, I think, drives so many other Syracuse fans nuts.

He just doesn't learn.

He hits a rough patch (if you will) and just keeps on going. He doesn't change course. He doesn't backtrack. He doesn't give up. Chucks a lob pass off the top of the backboard? He won't hesitate to try the alley-oop again. Air-balls a contested three? He'll shoot again at the next opportunity. It's maddening. It's glorious. Statisticians always point out that the chances of a player making any given basket are roughly equal to his career shooting percentage, regardless of the outcome of the last shot. Scoop proves this, but if you tried to explain this to Scoop, he'd just laugh. He has no game memory, it seems, for his own results.

There are three things we should all agree on. 1.) Scoop is the most creative passer on the team. (I'd argue, "best" passer, but it's debatable.) 2.) On the 2011-12 Orange, Scoop best serves the team when he is looking pass-first. 3.) Scoop has a pair of giant, ground-scraping cojones. Just massive. Thus, if Scoop fell through the ice, he wouldn't complain. He wouldn't let his emotions get away with him. He'd get out of the water, climb the cliff, and run to safety. Then he'd probably go out the next day and fall in again. And again the next day, until on the fourth day the ice froze hard enough to give him safe passage. He'd never learn.

Scoop played great tonight against Cincy. 13 Pts, 6 Ast, 0 TO. Dion, on the other hand, is in a slump. If you take out...and yes, it's always unfair to just "take out" stats, but in this case, I think the result matches the eye test... If you take out the final, frenetic minute of the first half against Notre Dame, when Dion hit two threes in 16 seconds, Dion's stat line against Notre Dame and Cincinnati is thus: 40 min, 3-17, 0-4 3s, 2 Ast., 4 TO, 7 Pts. His movement with the ball still looks good, and the effort is there. It's just that the shots aren't falling at this moment.

The problem is Dion has a couple of aggravating tendencies that this slump has revealed. SU fans, have you noticed how he looks at the ref to call a foul every time he drives to the basket? Every time. Every single time. It's driving me nuts. It's no surprise Boeheim sat him on the bench tonight. He's cold and whiny. He's fallen in the ice, and he's too busy complaining to move on to what's next. Hopefully, watching his team play hard and well without him will remind him of his place.

What is his place? Despite everything, I nodded when Jay Bilas suggested Dion Waiters might be Syracuse's best player. It's close. When Kris plays like he did tonight, there is no one else I'd rather have the ball. If there is space underneath, Kris will blow by all but the absolute best defenders and get to the hoop almost every time. But Dion is definitely the best guard on the team. I'm convinced. He's so fast, and usually has such a good touch. If Scoop has massive cojones, Dion has a giant ****. And that makes him a terrifying weapon, the most dangerous player on the team. Plus, we haven't even gotten to his defense. He's a bit of a gambler, but that works at the top of the zone, on this team. He's leading the Orange in steals per game by almost a full steal.

Scoop isn't a whiner. Remember that play tonight when he chucked it off the Cincy defender's toe, right in front of the SU bench? He reacted like anyone would have. He shouted and complained that it was a bad call. But only for a moment before turning his attention back to the game, leaving the argument to his head coach. He let it go.

Dion needs to let this game go. Better, he needs to pat his teammates on the back and cheer his team for the start of a new winning streak. West Virginia looms on Saturday, another chance for Dion get things going again. He needs to have the maturity to recognize that he rode the bench tonight because Triche and Jardine were playing well and he wasn't. (By the way, it's the same with CJ, who has been outplayed by Southerland over the past two games, as well as, re: Chris's comments in the last post, Baye Keita, who has been outplayed by Christmas over the same period. Coincidentally, Baye Moussa Keita, literally translated, means "Third Best Center.")

Tonight was a wonderful game for Syracuse. They overcame another slow start, battled hard on the boards (36-35 Orange!), and drove steadily to the glass to stay in the game when the shots weren't falling from outside. It was an impressive win on the road against one of the best teams in the Big East. It was a gutty win, with the starting center out and one of the best players in a funk. It was a championship-caliber win. Syracuse must hope Dion learns to play like a champion. He needs, I think, just a little...just the tiniest bit of his cousin's attitude to set him right.