For St. John’s, this Sweet 16 trip is not so much a miracle as it has become the standard

WASHINGTON — No one had to tell St. John’s fans how to act Friday night.

Whether inside the stands at Capital One Arena, where red outnumbered blue and blue-collar outweighed blue blood, or anywhere else they were situated, backers of the Johnnies knew what was on the line. And they responded accordingly.

If you were an uninformed observer Friday, there would be no way to know that St. John’s was making its first appearance in a regional semifinal since 1999. No way to know that the Duke team that was life and death to beat the Red Storm in the nation’s capital was the top-ranked team in the nation entering the NCAA Tournament. No way to know that Ruben Prey was merely a sophomore backup forward while looking like Robert Horry in an NBA postseason game.

For this has become the new status quo on the corner of Union and Utopia. No longer are the Johnnies merely thrilled to be in attendance on flagpole nights in college basketball such as these. This program expects to own the stage, and it did once again on Friday, even in a gallant effort that came up five points short.

Cannon fodder, as it was for a majority of this century before the adults entered the room and took command, St. John’s is not. Gunpowder, it is. And when sparked at just the right time, the explosion may seem startling to those unfamiliar, yet eerily comforting to those accustomed to its steady crackle.

Rick Pitino would have that no other way.

Pitino may be less than six months away from turning 74, yet he still operates and comports himself with the vivaciousness and impact of a fuse half his age. And when he was brought down the New England Thruway to take on the challenge of restoring the once-proud St. John’s program, the long-dormant keg that felt for far too long like a black hole in eastern Queens was reignited. And if Pitino was the spark that rekindled the flame, Zuby Ejiofor was the ensuing inferno.

Very few players stay in one place more than a year anymore, a byproduct of player empowerment and the lure of big money that turns into greed. Even fewer remain for three years the way Ejiofor did. It was easy for St. John’s fans to attach themselves to the Kansas transfer. He gave all of himself for them, they gave all of themselves to him, starting after a pair of missed free throws last season that cost the Johnnies a double-overtime win over Baylor in the Baha Mar Hoops Championship. That moment was singlehandedly responsible for a new tradition at a place that made its name on them.

“ZUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUB!”

Much like Mike Mussina had the Moose call at Yankee Stadium, Ejiofor had the Zub call for the past two seasons. And each time the call was made thereafter, it grew louder, more boisterous, more resonant. It grew in lockstep with the renaissance of St. John’s as a card-carrying elitist and not a nouveau riche gate-crasher. So when he could barely compose himself in Friday’s postgame press conference, it was understandable to see the emotional outpouring of someone who emptied his own cup more than anyone should ever deserve.

Emotion is what makes sports so gripping. And St. John’s fans are by no means lacking in that department. To understand the passion is a task that cannot be fully explained to an outsider, nor can it be fully understood when window shopping. It is something the roots of fan support are always constructed upon. Therefore, Friday night, while factually representing the end of an era, must also be viewed as the beginning of a new phase.

Pitino will reload. That much is certain. As long as he is the coach at St. John’s, and as long as Mike Repole bankrolls the dream of an insatiable community, the Red Storm is not going anywhere. Losing Ejiofor, Bryce Hopkins and Dillon Mitchell seems like a lot at first blush, but does anyone doubt the ability of a hall of fame architect to reconstruct a masterpiece?

In the words of Steve Masiello, anyone who doubts Pitino should have his or her head examined.

Pitino has always loved a challenge, and steadfastly refuses to back down from one. Maybe that is the most powerful example of why, in this present state of the game, he still loves it so much when so many of his contemporaries are using the climate of the sport as an excuse to ride off into the sunset.

The Johnnies will return. Their fans, who never went away even during the lean years and made sure to announce their arrival in every possible fashion no matter the record or the size of the gun barrel in their collective face, will as well. And at the end of the day, regardless of your affinity or whatever lines of demarcation are drawn in the heat of battle and tribalism, this much remains true:

When St. John’s is good, business is good.

And right now, business is only getting better.