I would like to ask a question of the lottery administrator for Villanova Men’s Basketball tickets:

Hi, I know you’re busy and all devising hilarious ways to shaft seniors and fans, but if you can find the time to setup an appointment with me, I’d really appreciate it.

Thanks, Santo Caruso

For the third consecutive time, I have lost all three games of a package. This despite the fact that I have gone to six games (Oklahoma, LaSalle, Syracuse, Seton Hall, Penn and Stony Brook) this season, covered the team both in newsprint and drool, and have planned a trip to Chicago next week to watch the team play DePaul, while making sure to return in time to skip a class and go to the UConn game.

But no, it makes perfect sense for my lottery weight to be roughly equivalent to my chances of making the team next year.

I really am not one to complain. I’m not here to make waves. I am, however, a senior, with good academic standing, and for me to lose every single lottery seems almost unfathomable.

And if you’re wondering, no, I didn’t win tickets those weeks. I snuck into almost everyone of those games. If I had tickets, I would have gone to every home game and about half of the away games, as well.

I can’t quite put into words the depth of my anger when I ran home to see if I had finally won tickets, at the very least for the St. Joe’s game (a game I have gone to every year until this one.) To not see the ‘Cats tie up the four year series this year was devastating.

Coming from Bishop Eustace, which is known as a St. Joe’s feeder school, I have dealt with harassment and teasing about Villanova for three years. My chance to finally show them up, to stand tall in my Pinckney jersey and ridiculous looking half-shirt, has been stripped from me by some unfair algorithm designed to make sure only true fans make it to the game.

And by true fans, I mean any little freshman and sophomore kid who thinks Ricky Wright is the head coach’s son and Gary Buchanan plays safety for the Falcons. A sorority girl who starts off her explanation of the four guard set by saying “we have Ray Allan, Keith Lowry, and Mitch Nardi,” and a senior who “has been too drunk to make it to a game this year, but I bet it’s a great place to drink.”

I took African-American history with Randy Foye and Allan Ray, two communication classes with Will Sheridan and I would probably sew a Kyle Lowry jersey to my skin if I had one. I only mention the classes because if any of those players had said to me, “Hey Santo, would you mind writing my term paper, I’m too busy being awesome,” they would have had the best this little columnist could do in their e-mail box the next day.

If you wouldn’t do the same, you’re not part of ‘Nova Nation. Or at best you are a freak state like Hawaii or Alaska.

I’ve vented now, and I think I’ve made my case. I’m sure the nerds in the kilts, or anyone who drove to Texas would disagree and say I’ve done this to myself (though how I don’t know), or they’d probably start an uninspired “San-to” chant.

But I’m begging, if I lose this next package, and miss out on the last three home games of my college career, my spirit will break. I may not have it in me to sneak into three more games.

Then again, it is UConn.