It's so much easier to coach the next day, when the outcome is decided and there's no pressure. It's even easier when you don't know the personalities of the team -- which guys see the national championship game as a chance to further their own cause, which guys see the big stage as the ticket to future endorsements. Any coach will tell you: You never know what goes through the mind of a 20-year-old who's been told how great he is since forever.

Because that's who plays in the college basketball championship game, every single year: Guys who have been told how great they are since the fourth grade, at the latest. It's not their fault -- it's the system -- but you can see it in their eyes. No harm, no foul, just guys playing by the rules.

(Have I ever told you about the time I sat in the stands watching a game played by supposedly "elite" 9- and 10-year-olds, and one mother sat in the stands repeatedly telling her son, "Shoot the ball, Mama needs a new house"? Well, that happened. And the idea of telling 9- and 10-year-olds they're "elite"? That happens all the time, too. There's no stopping that train, by the way.)

That's a meandering way of saying we can't sit at home or in the arena and understand the dynamic of a team. We can suggest strategy and make predictions, but if you can do that from the stands, don't you think the coach sees the same things?

Which brings us, somehow, to Ohio State vs. Florida. From the beginning, from the first 90 seconds of clock time, it was clear Ohio State had one chance and only one chance to compete with Florida. That one chance was to throw the ball in to Greg Oden and concede a simple fact: The Buckeyes will go only as far as Oden takes them.

Everyone else on the floor was insignificant. It wasn't always like that, but it was Monday night. Oden was going to be Patrick Ewing wrapped up in Michael Jordan's personality and there really wasn't anything Florida could do about it but hope the Buckeyes didn't notice.

He had that look, didn't he? He wanted the ball, and he wanted the chance, and it had nothing to do with endorsements or anything else. It had to do with competition, and that's what every NBA scout worth his clipboard took away from that game. Greg Oden is a competitor, and he wanted the ball -- and he oh-so-desperately wanted Florida to drive the lane and challenge him at the hoop -- because he knew as well as you did that it was his team's only chance.

He finished with 25 points and he was the most underutilized player on the court. This is where the coaching thing comes in. Don't you tell your guys they have to get him the ball until every last one of the Florida frontcourt players fouls out? The Ohio State backcourt could have crossed half court and immediately tossed the ball blindly toward the basket every single time down and Oden would have come up with 75 percent of them. And he would have scored 40.

And they would have had a far better chance than they gave themselves with their 4-for-23 3-point shooting.

This Week's List
• And to think, we fell just a good national championship game away: In theory, Monday was the best sports day of the year; in practice, Ohio State and Florida looked like a midseason intersectional matchup that starts too early on a Saturday morning.

• Yeah, it's disguised in the same way Oscar Gamble used to hide his Afro: Discussing the change in managers from the ultra-uptight Buck Showalter to a man (Ron Washington) whose loose personality is coupled with an ability to use every imaginable profanity as a verb, noun and predicate clause, Orel Hershiser said of Washington's enthusiasm, "You can't say that Buck Showalter didn't have that, but it was a little more disguised."

• Crazy advice for Jose Contreras: Maybe mix in something a little off the plate, or at least on the black.

• An unexpected consequence of the 60th anniversary of the ending of baseball's color barrier: Listening to those old clips on television, I can't believe how squeaky Jackie Robinson's voice was.

• If people mention this, or write this, or seriously suggest it, you should feel compelled to laugh in their faces: The idea that the decision made by Florida's players to stick around to win another championship might become a "trend" in college hoops.

• One way you can tell it's baseball season again: After a particularly egregious error, an announcer will invariably say, "That ball's gotta be caught."

• So, for today, at least until the first pitch is thrown in the second game of the 2007 season, A-Rod will remain a Yankee for life: In Monday's opening win against the Devil Rays, A-Rod (1) was booed for missing a foul ball in the top of the first; (2) got a standing ovation before his first at bat in the bottom of the first; (3) got booed after striking out; (4) got a standing ovation after hitting a homer.

• The absolute, undisputed, undefeated and unchallenged leader for best televised moment of the 2007 Major League Baseball season so far: In the bottom of the first of the Cubs-Reds game, when the camera fixated on Lou Piniella in the Cubs' dugout, the announcer said -- completely serious -- "There's a look at Lou Piniella, calm so far."

• To which, in conclusion, we can all say with a certain degree of assurance: That's some damn fine restraint, Lou.

Tim Keown is a senior writer for ESPN The Magazine. Sound off to Page 2 here.