Smoke Break

If “Stripes” ended like this, I would have thrown the DVD against a wall.

Don’t blame me, but we’ve been conditioned for great endings and refuse anything short of bliss.

Things end with one ultimate quip. The bad guys have been arrested. The good guys are going to get laid and a feel-good Kenny Loggins song tells us it’s time to leave the theater feeling content.

Unfortunately, life is not all seashells and balloons and funny one-liners from Harold Ramis.

If it was, Dominic James would be bouncing on his toes in eager anticipation of Saturday’s senior day festivities instead of limping in street clothes to bid a final adieu to the home crowd at the Bradley Center.

When James landed awkwardly on his right foot in the infant stages of the UConn game a little over a week ago, no one had any idea what happened. No bad twist or sprain after awkwardly landing on Dwight Burke’s foot. No collision with Hasheem Thabeet. Nothing but a strange plant followed by a “something’s wrong” look on his face as he fat-man jogged over to the sidelines.

Never has one player who electrified crowds with his hops (whatever street cred I garnered over the years diminished after that last statement) left so quietly. It’ss not his fashion. He was Marquette basketball for the past four seasons.

Jerel McNeal became the team’s best player and Wes Mathews might have the longest professional career, but James was the face of the program as soon as he hit campus.

He jumped into a spot occupied by a fan favorite (Travis Diener) and had the unenviable task of grasping the supposed yellow-page sized playbook of Tom Crean.

He lent Crean his ear and James played out a tune of half court offense. This year James jumped out of first chair and grabbed the conductor’s wand. He orchestrated a fast break offense that would make Bach blush, (not the composer, but former Bulls assistant John).

Someone who invested that much time into justifying his existence as a top-flight prospect deserves a better exit.

Sinatra didn’t end his concerts with “The Girl From Ipanema.” Ron Harper was not the last name public address announcer Ray Clay belted out before sold out crowds at the United Center and James should not be remembered for sitting on the sidelines during the UConn game, but that’s the enduring image I have.

My heart goes out to him. Maybe it’s old age or too many episodes/columns of “Friday Night Lights” but a senior who contributed so much to the program should not be a spectator in his last home game as student athlete.

He doesn’t deserve this. The Lollipop Guild of 2009 were atop the list of teams people didn’t want to play come March. Could an impressive tournament improve an already iffy draft stock? How far could this guard-saturated team fight through the land of giants?

But it’s not about the team or March success, it is about James. The only thing worse than a bad ending is no ending at all. You can guarantee no Kenny Loggins song can raise our spirits from that.