Yesterday morning, in White-Gravenor: “Tyler, can you do a little better than [win] at the end of the game? You’re killing your professor here. You guys gotta build up a lead and sit on it!” January 25, 2006, in the Car Barn: “Mr. Wallace, boy, if you had missed those free throws [against Duke], I might have killed you.” Even our professors, the ones supposedly most capable of framing the trials and tribulations of sport within the perspective of a well-lived life, are wont to break out the life-or-death metaphors when things get testy on the basketball court. The Hoyas aren’t the only team, no doubt, to win on an unlikely three-pointer or a last-second block, but they are beginning to build a very strong case for themselves as college basketball’s Cardiac Kids. Three of Georgetown’s last five games have been decided in the last play of the contest. Against Connecticut, it was Roy Hibbert’s three. Against Syracuse, it was Jonny Flynn’s near-miss from beyond the arc. Against West Virginia, it was Jessie Sapp’s off-balance trey, then Patrick Ewing Jr.’s final-second rejection. The big conclusion drawn from these games is that the drama of Georgetown basketball makes for a cholesterol-heightening good time, that the Hoyas might very well possess that intangible thing called “clutchness.” Never mind that these games should have been won much more easily; to most people, the ability to come through with the game on the line is equated with greatness. To some, these three tight wins portend better for the NCAA tournament than three easy wins would have. Of course, there’s another part of the picture. Championship teams don’t just play better when their survival is at stake, they also perform magic tricks. Consider the Houdini-esque disappearing act pulled off by the Hoyas on Saturday. Darris Nichols put a shot up and Ewing’s fingers brought it down, just as it reached the crest of its flight path. Or just before the crest. Or just after the crest. Whatever you deduced, by the time you were done thinking about it and glanced back at the court, Georgetown was nowhere to be seen. Poof. Shazam. If you steal something and the alarms go off, the only thing you can do is run. Let’s say, just for kicks, that the Hoyas got away with one. If I were a superstitious man, I might predict that the Hoyas’ weird string of luck marks the beginning of a very special season. Heck, forget “season.” All-out dynasties are started the way Georgetown got its last three wins. Which got me thinking about the past week in sports. It’s been a good one, largely because it’s seen some of sports’ biggest dynasties evolve considerably. Could this be the future of the Georgetown Hoyas? Only time – and a little fairy dust – will tell. Stage 1: The Fortuitous The ’96 Yankees got a free home run when Jeffrey Maier reached out and irrevocably shifted the momentum of the ALCS. The ’98 Bulls got a title-winning jumper when Michael Jordan pushed off of Bryon Russell, and no whistle was blown. Today, the New England Patriots – remember they have a game on Sunday – are the epitome of a team that takes advantage of good fortune. Late against the Ravens in Week 14, they needed a first down to prolong their quest for an undefeated season, and they came just short. But thanks to a tardily-acknowledged timeout by Ravens defensive coordinator Rex Ryan (of all people), the Patriots got one more shot – and they broke Baltimore’s hearts when they scored a game-winning touchdown moments later. Still undefeated, New England is less than one week away from embarking upon a new dynasty, perhaps football’s greatest ever. Put the Hoyas in this impressive company. Stage 2: The Beloved That New England is on the precipice of Stage 2 is evident when terms like “greatest ever” are thrown around with respect to the very human Tom Brady, who is just one win away from becoming a Ruthian legend. Already his every step is pursued by the paparazzi; already the presence and absence of a barely-noticeable walking cast have fueled a frenzy of speculation. Patriots personnel are treated in the media like the cast of characters of an Oscar-winning movie series: There’s Tom, the all-American sweetheart with the nerves of a champion; Bill, the calculating, understated genius with a fondness for hooded sweatshirts; and Junior and Teddy, the gritty linebackers who overcame age and serious injury to light a fire under the team’s defense. Already sportswriters are drawing parallels between the Patriots’ perfect season and the well-groomed quarterback’s “perfect” life with his supermodel girlfriend. In a word, we’re obsessed. So let’s hope Greg Monroe’s personal life doesn’t include stories of past Pokemon fandom. Stage 3: The Accountable Let’s shift to Tiger Woods for this example. This week, the world’s greatest golfer was the subject of controversy for something he didn’t do: respond strongly to a racist-sounding slip-up. Woods is so difficult to defeat, said Golf Channel commentator Nick Faldo, that it might be in his opponents’ interest to “gang up on him.” Then came the bomb: Co-host Kelly Tilghman, a friend of Woods, quickly quipped that they might want to “lynch him in a back alley.” It was a dumb remark, but it was an accident – blurted out so unflinchingly that it’s clear she would have said the same thing about Ernie Els. Woods has been taken to task by many for not “standing up for his race” and taking public offense; even in this column, he has been criticized for failing to use his position in the sport to lobby Augusta National to admit women members. Woods has reached the point in his career where even when he isn’t personally involved he is seen as the go-to person in every instance where social issues spill over into golf. The perception is that Woods “should” say something. The perception was that aging superstar Derek Jeter “should” have done more last season to defend oft-maligned teammate Alex Rodriguez. It was the perception that largely-black Georgetown Hoyas of the 1980s “should” have been more upfront with the media about the racial issues swirling around them. Stage 4: The Sentimental Favorite. The seemingly impenetrable Roger Federer lost at the Australian Open this week, marking the first time in three years that he was bounced in straight sets from a grand slam. Whether the loss signifies a decline in Federer’s ability or (more likely) the emergence of heavier competition, he might never be as dominant as he once was. That the Aussies felt bad for the once-envied Federer was clear as the match wore on; they wanted him to win so badly that they largely rooted against his opponent in the next round. Consider Pete Sampras, too; his one last unexpected hurrah galvanized the crowd at the 2002 U.S. Open, even in the final against fan-favored Agassi. I won’t get into what a decline will mean for Georgetown someday. It’s better to live for the present. Stage 1, after all, is always the most fun, our professors’ blood pressure be damned. Alex Fumelli is a senior in the College and a former features and sports editor for THE HOYA. He can be reached at fumellithehoya.com. THE MENDOZA LINE appears every other Tuesday in HOYA SPORTS.