A Whole Lot of Rim Shots, but a Will of Iron Too

OAKLAND —  During a merciful timeout with 32 seconds left in this beautiful mess, Jordan Farmar swaggered across a sweat-stained midcourt.

His eyes were glazed with wonder at witnessing dozens of mistakes.

His voice was filled with laughter at seeing bunches of bricks.

Yet his words ... there were only two.

The only two that mattered.

“Final Four,” he shouted to teammate Arron Afflalo, to his bench, to the world. “Final Four!”

It was ugly, it was unbelievable, but it was pure UCLA, the Bruins bullying their way to Indiana on Sunday with a team that is less “Hoosiers” than “Pulp Fiction.”

For the first time in 11 years, the Bruins are going to the Final Four, this time with cartons of film, cases of bandages and one question.

Are you ready for some football?

In an Arena filled to the rafters with Bruin fans leaping on their muffler-missing, smoke-belching bandwagon, UCLA defeated Memphis, 50-45, in a regional final that should have been played outside in the Raider parking lot.

There was banging and clanking and skidding and thumping and, eventually, understanding.

For all this talk about how the Bruins are no fun to watch, they are even less fun to play.

And while they may not have the flash of UCLA’s past, they have every bit of its fortitude.

And if they turn the Final Four into a Final Bore, who cares?

They made it. Two years after losing 17 games. One year after being bullied out of the first round. One month after losing to USC.

And here they are, two victories from one of the unlikeliest championships in the school’s history, and you want to know the craziest thing of all?

They believe they can win those two games, beginning with Louisiana State next Saturday in the RCA Dome.

And it’s becoming increasingly difficult not to believe with them.

When asked if they had restored the UCLA tradition, Afflalo shook his head.

“We will not restore the UCLA tradition until we win it all,” he said.

When asked if he was ready to dismiss his team from the midcourt platforms after it received its championship trophy, Coach Ben Howland also shook his head.

He gathered his players around him and began lecturing and gesturing. Maybe the first trophy presentation chalk talk in basketball history.

“He told us to enjoy it, but he kept talking about unfinished business,” said Cedric Bozeman. “He told us to start thinking about LSU.”

Oh yeah, LSU, the Bruins’ national semifinal opponent, that quick, strong, athletic team from down South that should have them quivering in their playbooks.

Hmmm. Where have we heard that before?

The idea that these Bruins suddenly seem capable of winning a national title is no more farfetched than the idea that they could hold an 81-point-per-game Memphis team to 45 points.

Twice last fall, the UCLA football team allowed more points.

Can Ben Howland make adjustments? Memphis scored fewer points in this entire game than it scored in the first half against the Bruins back in November.

“Substance over style,” Afflalo said with a grin.

The Tigers missed 11 consecutive shots during one stretch in the first half, missed their first 14 three-point attempts, and watched their two best scorers combine to go four for 21.

“UCLA has become all about defense, that’s the entire focus of the program,” said Farmer, who hasn’t always been thrilled with the Bruins’ plodding style. “But you know something? Today shows that it’s true. It works. It wins. We see it.”

They saw it when Memphis, weary of constant hands in faces and bodies along baselines and double teams underneath, finally did what virtually every Bruin opponent has done in the last several weeks.

“They just gave up on their game plan and tried to take us one-on-one,” Bozeman said. “That’s exactly what we wanted them to do. They played right into our hands.”

So suddenly it didn’t matter that the Bruins made only four field goals in the second half, or missed 19 free throws for the game, or committed 17 turnovers.

Heck, a dude missed nine of 11 free-throw attempts in the championship game and was still the regional MVP.

“Missing free throws is an inspiration to me,” said Ryan Hollins, shaking his head. “It makes me want to run down there and get more rebounds and play better defense to make up for it.”

He paused.

“Today, I had a lot of inspiration.”

So how many free throws will the Bruins be attempting in practice this week?

“You tell me,” Bozeman said, sighing. “I’m pretty sure we’ll shoot about a thousand.”

Howland scowled.

“Maybe not that many,” he said. “But it will be close.”

For all of the Bruins’ offensive wanderings, their defense never slumped. It never does. And in the end, all that mattered was that, for a second consecutive tournament game, the Bruins brought greatness to its knees.

This time Memphis’ Rodney Carney was the one who crumpled at midcourt in agony.

And, yeah, for a second consecutive game, nice-guy Afflalo walked over to comfort the other team’s star.

“It was all crazy,” Farmar said. “But I was like, man, we’ll take it.”

So will their town and their tradition, both of which will embrace this unlikeliest of L.A. teams, the gritty little independent movie on the verge of winning the Oscar, the clunky little Pinto passing everyone in the carpool lane.

During the postgame celebration Sunday, guess who was the last Bruin to cut down the first net?

When Bozeman climbed the ladder, he was the only starter who did not yet have a piece. But then he stopped, looked down and motioned toward Janou Rubin, a senior and former walk-on.

Bozeman stepped down. Rubin stepped up. The benchwarmer made the last snip, gestured to the crowd, then disappeared into a swirling, murky, dazzling sea of gold and blue, crashing toward the suddenly visible shores of a national championship.

Bill Plaschke can be reached at bill.plaschke@latimes.com. To read previous columns by Plaschke, go to latimes.com/plaschke.