6:15 p.m. -- Killing time in between games -- since the Sun doesn't quite have enough money to spring for a Tournament package so I can watch something other than the local broadcast -- and I wanted to say a few words about someone Maryland fans love to complain about: Dick Vitale.

I don't know why, but I love Vitale. And I think I always will. It's not that I think he's the perfect analyst, because he's not. He swoons way too much over the major programs and thinks most of the coaches who have been around for more than a decade walk on water, even when some of them are knee-deep in filth. (Who can forget Vitale's softball interview with Jim Harrick after he and his staff were accused of overseeing academic fraud at Georgia?) And yes, he is way too quick to defend Duke and pretend they are the holy saints of college basketball. But Vitale really does love college basketball, and like it or not, he represents a lot of what I really do love about the game. When I was a kid, and college basketball was just blowing up, I used to watch ACC games in my parents bedroom on Thursday nights and shoot on a tiny hoop, pretending I was Chris Corchiani and Rodney Monroe of N.C. State, Kenny Anderson of Georgia Tech, or Walt Williams of Maryland. I can't tell you how many times I pretended to bury a jumper over the outstretched arms of Christian Laettner or Thomas Hill, and Vitale always provided the soundtrack. "Oh! Baby! Walt Williams with a finger roll!"

He was a part of my childhood the way that Chuck Thompson was a part of some Orioles fans' childhoods. And although I could understand why he drove some people bonkers after nearly 20 years as the voice of college basketball, I always tell this story whenever someone whines about how much they hate him:

About five years ago, I was following around a women's college basketball player named Rayna DuBose, who has played her prep ball at Oakland Mills in Columbia. Fate had dealt Rayna a hell of a crappy hand during her freshman season at Virginia Tech, when she was infected with bacterial meningitis and had to have both her hands and both her feet amputated. The DuBose family agreed to let me hang around with them for close a year, following Rayna's journey as she rehabilitated her body and her spirit and prepared to go back to school. That year, the Final Four was held in New Orleans, and she was being presented with the Most Courageous Award by US Basketball Writer's Association. Rayna was pretty nervous throughout the weekend, but she told me the one thing she hoped might happen was that she'd get to meet Vitale at some point. I tried to reach out to a few people to see if anyone had his cell phone number, but by the time I got it, Rayna informed me that she'd already met him. He'd spotted her walking outside the Superdome, carefully and on crutches, and he'd gone right up to her to say hello and he ended up giving her a hug. They posed for pictures, talked about basketball, and he told her how much he admired her courage. I think it was probably the highlight of her entire trip. She was a huge college basketball fan, and he was the soundtrack to many of her teenage nights, just like mine .

Vitale is kind of like the loveable blowhard uncle that everyone has. There are times when you're thankful you can put him on mute, but if you ever get the chance to meet him, you can't help but like him. So cut him a little slack next time you hear him swooning over Coach K. He's a pretty genuine guy with a good heart.