Yago Colas explains why, despite all the youthful mistakes, the turnovers and the bad fouls, he loves college basketball.
Carlton Suede is about to dunk the ball. Without an ounce of grace — his mutt of a mother used to call him “our clubfooted son” — he is rising through the lower ether. Above the marshmallow-thick white soles, higher than the tense, ribbed socks, surpassing even the shiny mesh culottes of his despairing opponents. […]