As the moment nears, there is a clock ticking louder.
Thursday night in Providence, the St. John’s Red Storm gets the spotlight as a No. 2 seed on the biggest stage of the season. Home court to start the NCAA Tournament. Their opponent? A feisty Omaha Mavericks squad that refuses to play by the script. The stakes? A shot at proving whether Rick Pitino’s squad is built for the long haul—or if the tournament’s madness will claim another victim.
Pitino’s Machine vs. Omaha’s Wild Card
St. John’s is a team on a mission. Pitino’s fingerprints are all over this squad—relentless defense, controlled chaos, and a hunger to own the boards. The Red Storm play like a team that expects to be here, like a team that sees the Final Four in the distance.
Then there’s Omaha. No expectations. No history. No problem.
The Mavericks weren’t supposed to be here, but they kicked down the door anyway. They won the Summit League with grit and heart. They bang on a trash can in the locker room after every win. It’s bizarre. It’s different. But it works.
David vs. Goliath? Not So Fast.
On paper, this should be a massacre. St. John’s is winners of the Big East regular season and tournament titles. Omaha? A No. 15 seed, playing with house money.
The sportsbooks have the Red Storm as an 18.5-point favorite. The analysts see a blowout. The fans expect an easy night.
Pitino? He sees a fight.
“This isn’t a team that’s just happy to be here,” Pitino said. “They scrap. They play with energy. If we don’t match that, we’ll be in trouble.”
He knows better than anyone. He’s watched tournament upsets for decades. He’s felt them. He’s lived them.
The difference in this game might not come down to talent. It might come down to belief.
St. John’s has spent the season learning Pitino’s system, trusting in his vision. They’ve dominated games when they’re locked in. RJ Luis Jr. is an offensive machine. Zuby Ejiofor controls the glass like he owns it. Kadary Richmond? A defensive nightmare.
But Omaha doesn’t care about Pitino’s resume. They believe in their coach, too.
Chris Crutchfield has built this team from the ground up. He’s instilled toughness, convinced his players they belong.
“We know who they are,” Crutchfield said. “But they better know who we are too.”
St. John’s hasn’t been here in a long time. The last time they made a deep tournament run, Bill Clinton was in office. They’ve spent two decades waiting for this moment, chasing the ghosts of their past.
Omaha? They have no ghosts. No pressure. They weren’t supposed to be here, so why not keep playing?
That’s the danger for St. John’s. Pressure can do funny things in March. The weight of expectation can crush a team that isn’t ready.
It’s a game of tempo. If St. John’s imposes its will, dominates the boards, and plays Pitino’s brand of basketball, they win. Simple.
But if Omaha gets hot from deep? If Sutton finds his rhythm? If that locker room trash can keeps getting banged on after every big play?
Well, that’s when things get interesting.
And if history has taught us anything, it’s this: March doesn’t care about expectations.
