After four years, two national championships, and more victories than any player to ever don the Connecticut jersey, anything less than the grandest stage would have felt like an injustice.
Monday night, Karaban took on all comers for the 151st and final time in the UConn coat of arms. His challengers, clad in maize and blue, set out for the unenviable task of denying college basketball’s most prolific winner this century. In a fluid landscape, Karaban stood alone as the last of a dying breed, the loyal soldier who eschewed financial windfalls and professional opportunities to finish what he started in the Nutmeg State.
His work concluded for the final time in a football stadium, vanquished by the University of Michigan, but no less impressive for what it has been and how it will ultimately be defined when time passes to allow a greater appreciation for his legacy.
“I care about winning,” he said after UConn fell to Michigan, 69-63, halting his quest to win a third championship and close his college career atop the sport. “I want to do everything — I have done everything — in my power to help this program win. That’s all I wanted, to give everything I’ve got, leave everything I’ve got out there, and try to do everything to help us win.”
Karaban did exactly that Monday, putting together a workmanlike 17 points and 11 rebounds. And just as he did in his Gampel Pavilion finale five weeks earlier, when he scored 23 points after joining the ranks of the Huskies of Honor, he played the entire 40 minutes, not once exiting the heat of battle until he had no other choice after the sound of the final buzzer.
“I figured, let me play him into the ground one more time,” Dan Hurley opined. “Let me just play that guy into the ground one more night, like I have throughout his career. He deserved to play 40 minutes. Everyone owes everything to that guy.”
Karaban’s teammates spoke glowingly of their senior comrade throughout the season and especially leading up to Monday’s swan song. The desire to win for him was tangible, a tacit agreement that transcended the lines of combat. When the fight was over, the tone of the song honoring UConn’s hero was a predictable dirge, but not one without pleasant melodies along the way.
“It’s tough,” Tarris Reed, Jr., a fellow senior looking to complete his career on top like Karaban, reflected. “He’s the most passionate, competitive, loyal person I’ve ever met. The love he has for the game, for us, I’ve never met a person like AK that shows up every day. Good game, bad game, bad day, good day, getting yelled at by (Hurley), getting yelled at by us. He’s an everyday guy, honest guy, who’s gonna show up whenever for his team. He gave it his all, just a true heart of a champion.”
“I might cry up here just talking about the impact he’s had,” Solo Ball added. “He’s just always there, and he’s the same person every single day. He doesn’t change.”
Karaban’s stoicism and professionalism are throwbacks to a bygone era in sports. A consummate teammate, consistently giving more of himself than taking from others, his demeanor is a stark contrast from most modern athletes today. It might not play as well on Madison Avenue, but the soft-spoken, lead-by-example mentality has improved the quality of Connecticut basketball.
“He’s the greatest winner in men’s basketball history at UConn, in a place where it’s hard to make history,” Hurley declared. “Heartbreak is good, though. Heartbreak means you’re in a fight.”
“At the end of the day, it sucks,” Karaban later assessed. “All I think about is UConn basketball, and I just want success for this program. I’m proud of everything I’ve done at UConn. I’m proud of who I’ve become as a person, and I’m ultimately leaving UConn in a better place now from where I started. I came back ultimately to win (and) fell short, so it hurts a lot right now.”
The finality of a valiant effort may be the loneliest feeling in life. One’s desired objective is crushed, and the appreciation for the struggle put forth gets lost in translation. Karaban admitted so much in the wake of his coda Monday, hinting that while he may make peace with how he lowered the curtain, the ulcer of a squandered opportunity still eats at him.
“I think in the future, I’ll be proud,” he suggested. “Right now, it stings. Right now, you lost out on the opportunity to win three national championships in four years. It sucks, but hopefully my legacy will be remembered at UConn, will be remembered in college basketball. And I hope everyone appreciates that.”
Heroes get remembered. Immortals never grow old. Alex Karaban’s legacy will safely fall into the latter category.
It seems only appropriate, after all.
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