You aren't going to see many one-and-done players on a 16-seed. In fact, you're more likely to see those decrepit dinosaurs called juniors and seniors. Believe it or not, there is still a value in experience.
"When you get guys who are 22, 23 playing for an established coach, a lot of times these teams have won," Krzyzewski said. "Maybe this is their first NCAA tournament, but the kids have won and they're men more than boys. They're confident in who they are. They aren't giddy about being there. They're not in awe of high-ranking teams. And now the high-profile team usually has younger guys. That's when it will happen."
In the years leading up to Princeton's game against Georgetown, the Ivy League schools as No. 16 seeds had fared especially poorly. The four Ancient Eight automatic qualifiers before 1989 lost by an average of 35 points. So lopsided were the scores that there was even talk about rescinding the Ivy's automatic bid altogether.
No surprise, then, that Vegas set the early line at 23 points.
"We had a good team, but Georgetown wasn't the No. 1 team in the East; they were the No. 1 team in the country, so that scared my team," Carril said. "When they were having their pizza party [on Selection Sunday], it all of a sudden turned to mush when they saw their draw."
But Carril, a son of a steel mill worker who never had anything handed to him, told his players that he didn't believe in playing for anything but to win. He reminded them that they were older -- mostly juniors -- and had played plenty of big games and won more than their share.
By around Wednesday, after he had "chewed their tail about it pretty good," the players started to believe him. As the game wore on, they believed in their old coach even more. The Tigers, using every second of the then-45-second shot clock, led by eight at the half, a raucous St. Paddy's Day crowd firmly on their side. ("I didn't know we had that many Irishmen on our team," Carril joked.)
In the final seconds, freshman Alonzo Mourning rose up not once, but twice, blocking Bob Scrabis and Kit Mueller in the final seconds, preserving the win and order in the basketball universe.
"What happened after the game was over, there was a sense of euphoria on the part of the players and not to be blamed because it was such an accomplishment," Carril said. "But I told them, 'You're going to feel good for about three days, and then it's going to hit you on the fourth day like a ton of bricks, that you could have won this thing.' And that's sort of what happened."
Seven years later, Carril would finally get his elusive NCAA victory. The Tigers beat UCLA, the team that had haunted him since that 1969 loss. But those Bruins weren't those Bruins, and Princeton was a No. 13 seed, still an underdog but not the ultimate underdog.
Carril retired after that one, his Hall of Fame career wrapped up with 525 wins and 273 losses.
And one loss no one will forget, even if it doesn't bother the old coach so much.