QMH will tell you what ran through his head during that moment. This is his 14th year working with men's basketball, which might seem like a lifetime to some—Penn freshmen, for instance, who were four or maybe five years old when QMH arrived in University City—but there's still a large contingent of the Penn basketball community who would consider QMH a fresh face, a baby.

He was thinking of those people, who might have been students through the halcyon days of the 1970s or the great teams through the 1990s and into the early part of this century. There are many who continue to ring the court in their longtime seats, who have seen so many incredible moments in this building but have been beaten down by a decade or so of play they consider below the program's standards. (How's that for diplomacy?) Those who remember the student section being filled every game, students wearing costumes and riding opponents and singing "Rock n Roll Part 2" at the final media timeout ahead of another convincing win. Heck, those who remember being those students.

QMH could hear them. He could feel them. He can almost see them running up into the current student section, grabbing one of the hundreds of red-shirted students who might have been making their first trip to a game at the venerable college basketball institution that sits on their very campus, and shaking them to get them to understand.

THIS. What you are witnessing at this moment. This is Penn Basketball.