“Do you have your dancin’ shoes on, boys?” Beverly greeted us cheerfully for our regular coffee meeting and filled two cups with the day’s special Altura Orizaba.

“It’s gonna be a battle of the titans for sure,” mused John.

“Absolutely, a game for the ages,” I added.

“Our guys are capable of making a deep run in this tournament,” Beverly observed.

“But we’ll have to run the table, if we’re gonna make it to the Final Four,” John said. “They have to win out.”

“Well, we’re peaking at the right time,” I noted. “And we’ve been here before.”

“You’re right,” John interjected. “They have to remember what got them here.”

“But if we treat this just like any other game, we’ll be fine,” said Beverly. “We’ve got a lot of big game experience.”

“They control their own destiny for sure.”

“Ditto. This team has a chance to do something special.”

“I agree,” Beverly refilled our cups,” We have to do the things we’ve been doing all season.”

“Now it’s for all the marbles,” I noted. “There’s no tomorrow.”

“No doubt about it. You lose, you go home.”

“I think turnovers will be the key.”

“And the intangibles will be the key, too,” John added.

“Both teams are playing at a high level.”

“Indeed. The coaches get the most out of their players.”

“Don’t forget. Good teams get better down the stretch,” Beverly suggested.

“This is March Madness and they’ll really have to turn up the intensity.”

“Yeah, we have to really step up and make plays.”

“We better come out of the locker room fired up,” John enthused.

“We’ve gotta go out there and take care of business. Really rise to the occasion.”

“No doubt about it. We have to leave everything on the court,” I advised.

“We don’t dare look past these guys,” John warned. “We can’t take them for granted.”

“Righto. We have to really come together as a team. We can’t afford a big let down,” Beverly warned.

“If we dictate the tempo, and stick to our bread-and-butter offense, and eliminate mental mistakes, we can really light up the scoreboard,” I analyzed.

“In other words, we have to turn it up a notch, crank it up, and dig deep,” summarized Beverly as she handed us our bill.

“Whew, I’m tired just thinking about the big game,” I breathed deeply.

“Yeah. I’m looking forward to watching the big dance but I’m turning down the audio on my TV,” informed John.

“What…why?”

“I can’t stand the commentators. Too many clichés.”