No Garden Party

It was a senior moment.

Yet, during this twisting UCLA postseason, few moments have held a message so clear.

From the gaggle of Bruins leaping and hugging at midcourt in the Arena on Thursday night, Cedric Bozeman and Ryan Hollins broke free.

Together, like an old couple reborn, they danced dizzily around the floor.

Bozeman was holding the game ball. Hollins was holding Bozeman. Both were screaming into the sky, into their past, from their heart.

“Never die!” shouted Bozeman.

“All those years!” shouted Hollins.

Bozeman, a senior, was gliding over five seasons of disappointment.

Hollins, a senior, was stomping on four seasons of ridicule.

“That dancing was because, all we’ve been through, now we’re finally on a cruise, and we don’t want it to end,” Bozeman said.

Smooth for some, stormy for others, downright green-faced for Bozeman and Hollins, the two leaders who often go by one name.

“The glue,” Jordan Farmar said.

The two guys who nearly fell apart are holding everyone together? Who would have thought?

“Yeah, really,” Bozeman said Friday with a tiny roll of his eyes as he awaited practice for today’s NCAA regional final against Memphis.

They were rising stars in the eyes of former coach Steve Lavin. They became fallen stars in the world of Ben Howland.

The top prospects became exposed as the disappointment twins, both lumped into the category of underachievers, overrated, too soft, too slow, too late.

They both considered transferring but decided the idea lacked integrity.

So they stuck around, refusing to be run off, slowly buying into Howland’s bruising culture while hoping they would still be on their feet to see it work.

Said Bozeman: “I was not going to be the one to leave, that’s not me.”

Said Hollins: “You can bury me on the bench, bury me as deep as you want, but I’m not going anywhere.”

Bozeman fought through injuries that cost him an entire season. Hollins fought through physical challenges that occasionally cost him his pride.

They were passed in the headlines by the kid guards. They were passed in the stat lines by a freshman star.

By the time this NCAA tournament began, they were the team’s only two senior starters, yet they were playing the positions of ignored and forgotten.

Who knew that they would vow to make it about memorable and forever?

“We’re like, at this point, we wanted to make it all worth it,” Hollins said.

And so they have, such that Friday, after leading the Bruins to their comeback victory a night earlier against Gonzaga in the Sweet 16, double the usual number of reporters wished to speak to each of them.

It went from, like, two to four.

“We’re background guys,” Bozeman said with a grin.

Talk about your jump-off-the-canvas backgrounds.

Hollins didn’t miss a shot in the first two games of the tourney, and battled Gonzaga’s inside forces to a virtual draw Thursday.

Bozeman’s coolness led to the second-round win against Alabama, then his slap led to the win against Gonzaga.

Yeah, that’s right, everyone credited Farmar with making the steal that led to the winning basket, but it was actually Bozeman who knocked the ball away from J.P. Batista.

Said Farmar: “Cedric knocked it loose. I picked it up. Once and for all.”

Said Bozeman: “Yeah, I knew he got the credit, but that was fine, I was happy for him. My job is to make everybody better.”

That’s exactly what both seniors are doing now, from Hollins’ giving the pregame talk in the locker room to Bozeman’s counseling the kids during timeouts.

They are doing it despite personal struggles that are destined to follow them through the end of their UCLA careers.

Bozeman is suffering from a torn muscle in his shoulder, a sore knee and tweaked ankle.

“Some days, it’s all just throbbing,” he said.

He was hurting so much after the Gonzaga win he didn’t sleep until 4:30 a.m., lying awake for several hours in the darkened hotel room because he didn’t dare rouse roommate Arron Afflalo.

“The pain is sometimes very intense, but I’ll get through it,” Bozeman said.

Hollins, meanwhile, absorbs the constant pressure of being the team’s main target.

Before every game, the opponent announces it will attack the Bruins’ “vulnerable” middle. And during every game, Hollins listens to their smack and takes their shots.

“Hey, I’ve been cussed out my entire career,” Hollins said. “I can take it.”

Howland still snarls at them. Howland is still working on them.

“They have both improved, and are still improving, that’s what you want to see,” he said.

Howland will, one suspects, keep riding them until the day they walk off the courts for the final time. But whenever that is, they will walk off upright, and proud, and deserving the best of whatever warmth Bruin fans can give them.

The old guys. The invisible guys. The glue.

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