It didn't really dawn on me until the final seconds of regulation at the Meadowlands. Twenty-five years ago, in my dorm at Calvert Hall (pre-renovation) at University of Maryland, as a freshman, by myself, watching the '82 national championship game, tense, screaming, cursing, trying to will Georgetown past North Carolina. Not even sitting down, just pacing around the single. Now, here I am, in my bedroom (the nearest TV to the computer), by myself, tense, pacing around the room, not even sitting down.

Great game. But a completely different outcome. I can remember almost everything from that '82 game, from the sight of John Thompson, Carroll High grad, first black coach in a championship game, on the bench opposite Dean Smith of all people, Patrick Ewing getting called for goaltend after goaltend and nobody caring because it was such an awesome display, James Worthy not caring because he was going to keep going in there and shooting anyway, the game coming down to the final seconds, Michael Jordan - the third-best player on the Tar Heels, behind Worthy and Sam Perkins - hitting that jumper, Georgetown rushing back down, plenty of time, Freddie Brown picking up his dribble, pausing, looking right, throwing to ABSOLUTELY NOBODY except James Worthy, Billy Packer yelling, "He threw it to the wrong guy!'', the free throws, Thompson hugging Freddie Brown on the sideline, Sleepy Floyd trying to heave up a final shot, North Carolina celebrating, me running into the dorm hallway cursing up a storm, hearing other cursing up and down the hall. A big chunk of it was about rooting on Georgetown, another big chunk of it rooting against North Carolina, hoping Dean and the program would keep shriveling up in big games. Hard to believe it used to be like that.

Now, today, here's Georgetown sucking all the drama out of the overtime, but dropping jaws by coming back the way they did. This is a team with John Thompson III's stamp on it - crisp, efficient, effective offense - but the defense won it, just like his father's old teams did. This was like the '84 Final Four game, against Kentucky, when Georgetown held the Wildcats to something like two baskets in the second half - nine percent sticks in my mind for some reason, meaning they shot in the neighborhood of 2 for 22 - and drove them crazy because every possession became completely futile and baskets were going to come only if Kentucky got really lucky. That was how North Carolina had to feel. They were rolling throughout the first half, getting the pace way beyond what Georgetown should've been comfortable with, and just as suddenly, from the last seven minutes of regulation until the end of overtime, the mere thought of getting a good shot, much less a basket, becoming a cruel joke.

So a lot of old Georgetown faithful who still hurt from 1982 felt some vindication, even though there was a championship to savor in 1984. And face it, it's downright freaky that Thompson's son coached them there and Ewing's son, who could barely get off the bench at Indiana and was nothing more than a famous name in high school, played a major role in it.

It's really freaky that the original game was 25 years ago, and that I can remember it that clearly, and that I re-enacted the feelings and actions so unconsciously today.

One added benefit: against all possible odds because of my lifetime-worst bracket performance, my championship-game pairing remains intact, Florida-Georgetown. I don't think I deserve to be that lucky. I mean, I had Albany in the Sweet 16. Meanwhile, there has to have been a previous Final Four in which all the teams had won national championships, but none come immediately to mind. I just rattled them off back to '99, and none back through there.