<table> </table> SAN ANTONIO | Mario Chalmers sat on the podium in the moments after the game, and he wore his &#8220;National Champions&#8221; hat backward, he had a sort of dazed smile on his face, and he did not know. He could not know. He&#8217;s history now.</p><p>&#8220;I was able to get a good look at it,&#8221; he would say.</p><p>No, he did not know. He could not know. Chalmers made the shot. Kansas came back from nine down in the final furious seconds. Kansas beat Memphis 75-68 in overtime. The Jayhawks are national champions.</p><p>Kids 50 years from now will be shooting the Chalmers shot in driveways from Pittsburg to St. Francis, from Liberal to Hiawatha, from Cuba to Dodge City to Chanute. Grandparents in Wichita will call their grandchildren in Olathe to talk about what they were feeling when Chalmers took that shot, the way the ball arced, the way it fell. Farmers in Cuba and teachers in Salina and doctors in Garden City will talk about the shot forever.</p><p>There were precisely 43,257 fans in the Alamodome on Monday night to watch Kansas win its first championship in 20 years, but as time goes by there will be 100,000, then 200,000, then a million who will say they were here.</p><p>No, Mario Chalmers could not know because he&#8217;s young. And when you&#8217;re young, you live in the moment. That&#8217;s how it&#8217;s supposed to be. Chalmers was not feeling the pressure of history when he fired the shot. He never could have made it then. Kansas was trailing by nine points with barely 2 minutes left. Memphis had taken all the intensity and will and ferocity that Kansas had to give, and then the Tigers pulled away. Up nine with about 2 minutes left? Over.</p><p>&#8220;A lot of us thought the game was over,&#8221; Kansas&#8217; Darnell Jackson would say.</p><p>&#8220;I thought we were national champs,&#8221; Memphis coach John Calipari would say.</p><p>How did the comeback happen? It was a blur. A flurry. There was a huge steal by Kansas&#8217; gutsy Sherron Collins, followed by a three-pointer. There were some missed Memphis free throws. There were a couple of big shots by Kansas&#8217; Darrell Arthur.</p><p>Kansas coach Bill Self was on the sideline, and he was shouting to his players, &#8220;You got to believe,&#8221; which is as corny a thing as a coach could say, but he could not think of anything else. Nobody could keep up with all the emotions of those final 10 seconds. Memphis&#8217; Derrick Rose had two free throws with the Tigers up two &#8212; if he made them both, then the Tigers would win. He missed the first. He made the second. Calipari told his players to foul so Kansas would not get a three-point shot.</p><p>And Memphis&#8217; players tried to foul. They hammered Collins.</p><p>&#8220;I think I got fouled, actually,&#8221; Collins said.</p><p>But there was no whistle. Collins managed to flip the basketball back to Chalmers. Memphis&#8217; incredible Rose was in his face.</p><p>&#8220;I was right there,&#8221; Rose would say.</p><p>But Chalmers got the shot up. Reporters always ask, &#8220;What were you thinking,&#8221; when trying to relive moments like this one. And the answer never satisfies because to make a great play, to hit the final shot, to make the last putt, to drill the game-winning hit, you can&#8217;t be thinking. Chalmers could not catch the ball and think about 20 years of frustration for Kansas basketball.</p><p>He could not think about the 1997 Kansas team, maybe the best in school history, and how those Jayhawks lost a heartbreaker to Arizona. He could not think about Nick Collison, one of the most complete players in the history of the school, who could not make his free throws in a championship game against Syracuse.