For the natives, this St. John’s championship simply just means more

RJ Luis sits atop ladder, basking in St. John’s Big East tournament championship, Johnnies’ first in 25 years. (Photo by St. John’s Athletics)

NEW YORK — This column will start with a disclaimer, because it might devolve into something atypical of the content normally generated by this outlet:

Please excuse the semi-autobiographical tone that this introduction may take on, but after two hours of figuring out just how I would proceed with what is about to be chronicled, I’m just getting the feeling that this direction would be best.

First and foremost, St. John’s is celebrating a Big East tournament championship on this night, its first since 2000. The newest piece of hardware, acquired in an 82-66 victory over Creighton, comes seven days after the Red Storm captured a regular season conference title outright for the first time since 1985, a year that is looked at in almost regal fashion around these parts.

Secondly, as some of you may know, I am a class of 2008 alumnus of St. John’s. More often than not, and sometimes far too much for my own good, my feelings toward the program have been thrust into the light, sometimes good, some other times bad. I’ve fought my battles with fans, at times on an everyday basis. But through it all, I’ve tried to maintain objectivity over the 18 years in which I’ve covered my alma mater. And I can objectively say that on this night, in this moment, what St. John’s did on the Madison Square Garden hardwood means the most to them.

So to the fans, the alumni, the natives, this column is intended to speak directly to you. I hope you enjoy it.

One word can most accurately describe the magnitude and afterglow of St. John’s Big East tournament championship, the fourth in the program’s rich history, but most notably the first in a quarter-century.

Cathartic.

The second-half explosion, the latest in a season full of them, felt different this time around. This outburst was not a prolonged run or a push-button kill shot like some others earlier in the year. This one was more methodical. For seven minutes and 33 seconds, St. John’s was simply perfect.

Fourteen straight attempts splashed through the net. Fourteen shots, each one seemingly carrying a 25-year debt of gratitude that was finally being repaid, beginning with Zuby Ejiofor and ending with RJ Luis. This St. John’s team has been unique in its construction. It may be one part Rick Pitino, one part Mike Repole’s war chest, and one part divine intervention. Yes, Lou Carnesecca is smiling down upon his legacy, and deservedly so. But the majority of this resurgence is the impact each player has made simply by being himself, giving selflessly of himself, to a family that has connected with them stronger than perhaps any of the other 116 iterations of this sport to cross the street on the corner of Union and Utopia.

“You hear it all along that it’s New York’s team,” Pitino acknowledged. “And it truly is.”

As the final seconds ticked away, the catharsis strengthened. It became an exorcism. When the final buzzer sounded, it morphed into euphoria. And almost everyone, media included, was unable to avoid being enveloped into its tidal wave in a fitting coda to how St. John’s ran roughshod through the Big East.

“When I hear, ‘St. John’s is New York’s team,’ and ‘we’re New York strong,’ and ‘we represent New York,’ that makes me feel awesome inside,” a poignant Pitino said from the heart. “So for New York, for St. John’s to see that crowd tonight, it’s an extra special feeling for me. Being a New Yorker, for me, it’s just extra special because I share this with every fan that takes great pride in what was accomplished this year.”

Pitino has been celebrated and maligned in equal time among different corners of the college basketball world. The endless chatter about him taking on another job has never ceased, but he made one thing clear after being presented with the Big East championship trophy.

“I saved the best for last,” he said with a smile.

Sometimes, the very thing you’re looking for is the one thing you can’t see. St. John’s has chased success, chased the stage it vacated through misdirection and wandered the desert to reclaim it. Now, both parties are standing face to face. Isn’t this world a crazy place?

There was a time when all fans did was wish the team would tell them this was love. It’s not the way they hoped, or how they planned.

But somehow, it’s enough.