2 minutes left of the second half. #2 UCLA leads #1 Memphis by (I think) 8 points. I screamed. “You’re really loud when you’re watching your school play,” Mr. W observed. “It’s the only time I’m loud watching anything on TV, so JUST LET ME BE!” I hollered. My cell phone rang. It was college roommie Diana, at the basketball game in Oakland. “It’s crazy here!” she yelled. “There are so many Bruins here! I’m gonna let you listen to this!” I put my cell phone on speaker and got the stereo effect of the stadium chaos through both the TV and the cell. “We’re 2 minutes away from the Final Four!” I yelled into the phone. “WHAT?! I can’t HEAR YOU!” she yelled back.

I thought back to the last time “Final Four” meant anything to me. It was just 3 months ago, at Christmas with Mr. W in Vegas. We were hanging out at his brother’s house playing “Cranium.” The teams were split girls vs. boys, and Mr. W’s brother’s wife, brother’s daughter, and I were playing against Mr. W, his brother, and the bro’s daughter’s boyfriend. The card we drew for our next question had the clue “college sporting event,” and we had to unscramble a word. “They’re not gonna get this,” Mr. W said confidently as he handed us the card and flipped the hourglass timer. We stared at it. College sporting event? Like football? The letters weren’t right. Suddenly, out of nowhere, I heard myself scream, “FINAL FOUR!” The boys’ jaws dropped. Uh-huh. And the reason I knew the answer was because of the first time “Final Four” meant anything to me.

1995. I was a college freshman at UCLA. Bruins Basketball was doing very well, and we just got a ton of merchandise into the Student Store commemorating Sweet Sixteen, Elite Eight, and then Final Four. I considered buying some of this merchandise, but thought I’d wait to see how far we go cuz then, the Asian thrift gene reasoned, I could buy the previous elimination category stuff at a discount. I was doing laundry in my freshman year apartment when we won NCAA Championships in 1995. I had been watching the game on and off between doing laundry, and I somehow missed the final few seconds. I was carrying my load from the laundry room back to the apartment, walking across the outdoor quad in the middle of the apartment complex, when all around me, cheers and screams broke out and echoed all the way to the top level and out of the complex. The next day, I went to the Student Union and purchased my navy blue 1995 NCAA Champions cap. But that year was the last time the Bruins made it to the Final Four.

Until now. The final score was 50-45, UCLA. I was sweating and cheering in my chair at Mr. W’s house watching the TV set explode with Bruin excitement, and I had my UCLA roommate and other UCLA alumni and friends screaming and chanting “FI-NAL FOUR! FI-NAL FOUR!” through my cell phone, still on speaker, resting on the armrest. I said to Mr. W with my eyes gleaming I’m sure, “I’m so glad I went to a major university!”