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I drove up from Houston on Saturday expecting just to root for my nephew as the Badgers took on the Longhorns. When Mike hit the three-pointer to win the game, my heart was pounding so hard I thought I might need the paramedics. We fought through the crowd down onto the floor, and that's when the day became really special. I met a five-year-old kid who's now become my role model. Adam explained to me and my sister Angie about how things had transpired between Mike and Max, so I called the little tyke over to take a picture. Despite his battle with leukemia, he's still as energetic as any other kid, and as I hoisted him up, his face had an angelic glow to it. I'm enduring some personal struggles of my own, but they're nothing compared to the battle Max is waging. As I held him in my arms, I think I felt some of his strength, determination, and will to overcome seeping into me. For some, it might sound maudlin, but for me it was every bit as real as the winning shot. I needed to be in that place, at that moment, in those circumstances. Thanks Mike. Thanks Adam. And most of all, thanks Max. Keep fighting the good fight. And so will I.