March 17, 2025 – The air in Queens is thick with betrayal. Rick Pitino, the silver-haired savant of college basketball, stands at the edge of a cliff, peering into the abyss of Selection Sunday’s cruel verdict. St. John’s, his latest canvas, has been erased—wiped from the 2025 NCAA Tournament bracket like a smudge on a masterpiece. The committee, those faceless arbiters of March fate, has delivered a guillotine’s blow: no dance for the Red Storm. And the question burns, hotter than a thousand suns—is this personal?Pitino’s name isn’t just a name. It’s a thunderclap. A legacy forged in the fires of Kentucky’s 1996 title, Louisville’s 2013 crown (vacated or not, the banners flew), and Iona’s improbable resurgence. He’s the maestro who turns coal into diamonds, the alchemist who defies odds. St. John’s was supposed to be his Sistine Chapel—a gritty New York redemption after years of exile and whispers. But on this day, as brackets unfurl and talking heads prattle, the committee has spat in his face. Again.Let’s rewind. St. John’s finished the season with a 20-13 record, a NET ranking hovering around 40, and a late surge that had the Big East buzzing. They toppled ranked foes—Seton Hall, Creighton—teams now cozy in the field of 68. Pitino, at 72, prowled the sidelines like a caged lion, his tailored suits a stark contrast to the chaos he orchestrated. The Red Storm weren’t perfect, but they were dangerous. Bubble teams like Providence (19-14, NET 50) and West Virginia (18-15, NET 45) got the nod. St. John’s? A cold shoulder. Why?The whispers started before the brackets dropped. Posts on X painted a conspiracy: “The committee hates Pitino!” one fan roared. “Snubbed last year, disrespected this year—no surprise,” another seethed. And they’re not wrong to wonder. Last March, Pitino’s St. John’s missed the cut despite a 20-win season, prompting his now-infamous rant: “The NET is fraudulent!” he bellowed, a prophet scorned. This year, he tweaked the recipe—more quad-one wins, fewer bad losses. Yet here we are, same script, different act. Is it incompetence or vendetta?Pitino’s past looms large. The scandals—Louisville’s stripper saga, the FBI probe—left scars. He’s a polarizing titan, a man who’s dined with kings and danced with devils. Does the committee see him as a stain on their pristine tournament tapestry? Duke’s Cooper Flagg gets a pass for an ankle scare; UConn’s three-peat quest is anointed. But Pitino, with his gravelly voice and unapologetic swagger, is cast aside. The blue bloods feast while St. John’s starves.The numbers don’t lie—or do they? St. John’s NET of 40 outshines Providence’s 50. Their strength of schedule, a brutal Big East gauntlet, dwarfs the soft slates of some at-large bids. “We beat teams in the tournament!” Pitino roared post-selection, his eyes blazing. “What more do they want?” Good question, Rick. The committee’s cryptic metrics—NET, KenPom, eye tests—feel like a shell game. Move the cups, hide the pea, and leave St. John’s grasping at air.The fans feel it too. On X, the Red Storm faithful erupted: “Pitino’s getting screwed because he’s Pitino!” one wrote. “They’d rather prop up North Carolina’s First Four bid than give us a shot!” another cried. It’s not just a snub—it’s a middle finger to a fanbase starving for relevance, to a coach who’s bled for this game. The committee’s silence is deafening, their favoritism a neon sign.And oh, the irony. Pitino’s old haunts—Kentucky, Louisville—waltz into the bracket. Auburn, the No. 1 seed, smirks from its perch. Florida, a betting darling at +350, gets the red carpet. Yet St. John’s, with its grizzled general, is relegated to the NIT’s shadows. Is this about basketball or politics? Pitino’s not shy: “They’re afraid of us,” he told reporters, his voice a dagger. “They know we’d wreck their precious tournament.” Bold words, but the echoes of 1996 and 2013 suggest he’s not wrong.Picture it: St. John’s as the 11-seed chaos agent, Pitino diagramming miracles, the Garden rocking as they topple a giant. That’s the March Madness we crave—the underdog’s roar, the legend’s last stand. Instead, we get a sterile bracket, a committee’s safe bets. Where’s the drama? Where’s the soul? Buried under a pile of NET printouts, apparently.This isn’t just about St. John’s. It’s about Pitino’s war—a crusade against a system he’s defied for decades. He’s Don Quixote tilting at windmills, but these windmills wear blazers and wield clipboards. “I’m not done,” he vowed, his jaw set. “They’ll see us again.” It’s a promise, a threat, a siren call to the Red Storm faithful. And they’re listening.So here’s the gauntlet, thrown at the committee’s feet: Prove it’s not personal. Explain why St. John’s sits while lesser resumes dance. Show your work—or admit you’re scared of Rick Pitino’s shadow. Because right now, it looks like favoritism, plain and bold. The king of March deserves his stage, not a backroom snub.To the fans: Don’t let this die. Flood X, storm the airwaves, make “Pitino’s Revenge” the hashtag that breaks the internet. This isn’t over—it’s Act One of a drama too big to ignore. Rick Pitino’s not fading quietly. Neither should you. March Madness just got personal. Who’s with us?

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