Something has gone terribly wrong in the high temple of major college sports. Clearly some basketball programs don't know their place and are now regularly wandering onto sacred ground. What is the meaning of this temerity?

Several years ago Gonzaga (gon-ZAH-ga), a small Jesuit college in Spokane, hired a coach who failed to recognize his limitations. Suddenly the Zags were on the map; worse, they were regularly on national TV. Incidentally, who among the glamour schools would dare veer so far off the path for a sobriquet like "Zags" when Spartans, Gators, Longhorns, Trojans, Bruins or Buckeyes are exemplary icons of real "major college" teams? Okay, one renegade smaller program might have been acceptable as a cute novelty, but then came Butler (BUTT-ler), a small college in Indianapolis, suddenly wandering out of its pristine placement among America's set-piece hierarchy (or lower-archy as determined by the cartel known as the NCAA) and wholly supported by ESPN and its brethren who seek to keep order among the glamorous and historically powerful college programs.

In football, leveling was easily accomplished by simply knighting six conferences "BCS" leagues, then dubbing all the rest "Mid-Majors." Boise State and TCU among others failed to grasp the concept, and played on. But in basketball, the sacred wink has been decimated by these disrespectful "mid majors" who insist on regularly beating overwhelming favorites over recent seasons. Gonzaga, Davidson, VCU, George Mason, Kent State, and numerous others have cracked the code. Now for the second successive Final Four comes Butler, coached by Brad Stevens who appears more suitable as a candidate for head librarian.  Outrageous: this can't be happening. "Mid Majors" are supposed to play their role; remain within their foggy definition as "sort of big but not really big," but when pinned down for a more clinical definition of just exactly what "Mid-Major"really does mean, no one can answer. Enrollment can't possibly suffice; schools like Central Michigan and Central Florida enroll 30,000 students). School colors, campus acreage, mascots, distinguished alumni, or proximity to a large metro areas? (Whoops, there go Clemson and Washington State). Apparently the most comfortable rationale used to define Major from Mid-Major is based on the amount of money budgeted for athletics. They're kidding right?    

Well, label them what you will, Butler is back. Not because someone donated ten million to their program but because they have bright, responsive players, and a coach who is the next Mike Krzyzewski, who in-turn was the next John Wooden when Duke emerged a national power. Butler's unassuming boy-major (uh, make that General) knows a few things about behavior and motivation, making him imminently qualified to do the impossible. He reminds his players there is no dishonor in losing the game. There is only dishonor in not giving your best because you are afraid to lose. Good call coach; when you're not afraid to lose, you can do anything.

And once the season is over, someone at the NCAA should investigate Butler. Reports have players regularly attending class with a team grade point average suspiciously high. Should someone look into the Bulldogs' pact of steel?  They're tougher to shake than cat hair from a cashmere coat, tougher even, than the Green Bay Packers. A post-game scribe added, "No Mid-Major program has ever made it back to the Final Four." Coach Stevens and the Butler (BUTT-ler) Bulldogs are probably not at all concerned about their classification. Perhaps it's time for a change in terminology.