The Strange Case of David Thompson

I probably saw about 250+ ACC basketball games on tv before I left for college, and yet somehow I don't feel like we were made aware of how great David Thompson had been in the early 70's. Granted, the ACC at the time (80's) was absurdly talent-rich so it didn't need to talk about the good 'ol days, but still. I feel like they only brought him up to mention him once winning the NBA dunk contest and that he had drug problems, and not how he once ruled the conference. They only seemed to speak of him as some physical freak that could jump out of the gym, and nothing else. NOW I feel like he's celebrated more, but I certainly don't remember him being as looming of a figure when I was a kid as you'd think he'd have been - and that 1974 team had been the first ACC team to win a national title since 1957, I believe. As this joint says:

The guy was a three-time ACC Basketball Player of the Year. Important to this discussion: he has a ring ('74), which came in a season in which he played in one of the best games ever (ACC Championship vs. Maryland) and ended UCLA's run of dominance with a 80-77 win over 'em in the Final Four. Bonus: you ever see MJ speak at a hoops camp? We have. He frequently says Thompson was one of his influences.

ACC Smell in the Air

Watching Battle for Tobacco Road: Duke vs. Carolina means I'm starting to get tugs of sentimentality re: the ACC basketball season is nearly upon us. Specifically, I think 2 things:

1) hanging out with Art Heyman who was relentlessly hitting on Watty

2) seeing footage of Carolina's 1957 national title made me think "the ACC didn't win another one until 1974," which reminded me of the mysteriously empty ACC legacy of David Thompson.

well, and 2 more:

3) And the strange case of the greatest point guard I ever saw.

4) Hey look, James Worthy should've been a goat.

Wait Hold Up

Are you people telling me that the 50th anniversary of David Thompson beating UCLA really come & gone without a David Thompson 30 for 30-style documentary??? 😡😡😡😡

"But Xmastime", you say in the voice of Craig “Ironhead” Heyward from those soap commercials (RIP), “didn't you point out the curious disappearance of the legacy of David Thompson over a dozen years ago?"

Sigh. Yes I did, faithful readers, YES I did:

 

I probably saw about 250+ ACC basketball games on tv before I left for college, and yet somehow I don't feel like we were made aware of how great David Thompson had been in the early 70's. I feel like they only brought him up to mention him once winning the NBA dunk contest and that he had drug problems, and not how he once ruled the conference. They only seemed to speak of him as some physical freak that could jump out of the gym, and nothing else. I certainly don't remember him being as looming of a figure when I was a kid as you'd think he'd have been - and that 1974 team had been the first ACC team to win a national title since 1957, I believe. As this joint says:

The guy was a three-time ACC Basketball Player of the Year. Important to this discussion: he has a ring ('74), which came in a season in which he played in one of the best games ever (ACC Championship vs. Maryland) and ended UCLA's run of dominance with a 80-77 win over 'em in the Final Four. Bonus: you ever see MJ speak at a hoops camp? We have. He frequently says Thompson was one of his influences.

In Which Xmastime Meets His First Hero, Jeff Lamp.

Jeff Lamp was my first hero as a kid, a smooth-shooting All-American forward who hit clutch shots like most people breathe air. I'd watch Virginia play on Raycom Sports and then sprint outside and pretend I was Jeff Lamp, falling out of bounds from the corner and hitting yet another big shot to send the Cavaliers to the Final Four. I probably dreamed of him and me and Lee Raker rooming together and going out for pizza after big games, which of course is to say that I absolutely dreamed of him and me and Lee Raker rooming together and going out for pizza after big games and generally shooting the shit about what great friends we all were.

As you most hardcore, dedicated to the point at which your family is beginning to worry about you fans of Xmastime know, I've spent the past few years wondering where in the hell on the Internet Jeff Lamp is. Yes, he graduated from college in 1981, way before the Internet (so was WWII but there's plenty of photos/info on that!) but for a guy who led UVa in scoring 4 times, was all-ACC 2 years and an All-American while playing alongside Ralph Sampson, I've always been surprised at how little stuff on him I could find online. It's not like he was a damn scrub, he was one of the ACC's all-time great players. Yet he's always remained a bit of an enigma, an enigma draining yet another 17-footer in his Adidas.

Incredibly, a coupla weeks ago longtime Xmastime buddy The Gnat let me know that the 1981 Final Four team was being honored as part of a scholarship program in Richmond. This was my all-time favorite college basketball team. It's hard to imagine now, but back in those days UVa was the biggest team in the country, veritable rock stars like teams like Duke et al would become later on. Well, in my eyes anyway. It was the prefect storm of their being a great team, me being a 9 year old boy living in the sticks with nothing else to do and the time being what many people still consider to be the ACC's Golden Age.

I was of course absolutely thrilled when I saw Jeff Lamp's name on the "expected to appear" list for the event. Now, as great of a college player as he was, and he had a cup of coffee in the NBA, it's not like anyone really knows where he is, or what he's doing. His is not exactly a universal name. It's not like he's popping up on ESPN every week - you have to be a pretty hardcore fan of that era to know who he is. As years (decades, ugh) have passed a sort of mythology has built up in my mind, my childhood idol worship of him intertwined with his lack of presence on the Internet. I mean hell, of course Ralph was a bigger, more famous player but if you REALLY wanted to meet him you probably could, at any of the events he participates in throughout the basketball season. Or just go to Harrisonburg and sit around for a while. Lamp, meanwhile, seemed like a character dreamed from a past life, fantastical unicorn out there never to be seen or heard from again.

I was thrilled, but also skeptical...what if I went to the event and he didn't show up? Don't get me wrong - it'd still be a thrill meeting the other guys: Sampson. Gates. Othell. Ricky. Jeff Jones. Terry Gates. But the dream meeting, my white whale so to speak, would be Jeff Lamp.

So the Gnat and I walk into the Virginia Historical Society lobby in Richmond, and there’s a spread of appetizers along with a small and surprisingly open bar, and before we could really adjust ourselves to the setting we practically bumped into "The Blitz Brothers," "The Smurfs", Othell Wilson and Ricky Stokes. We were like wow, Othell & Ricky! And they couldn’t have been more welcoming; it was as if they spent all their days greeting complete strangers to gawk at people who hadn’t touched a basketball court in decades. Boom – right away, it was arms around shoulders and pictures being taken and The Gnat & I talking about going to school in a neighboring country from the high school his brother Bobby had starred at before going on to be a part of the first (and only until 2 years ago) Virginia team to win the ACC Tournament. And of course as we’re talking to them you couldn’t help but notice a particular 7’4” guy lurking within a few feet of us, greeting and taking pictures with anyone who came up to him. We waited our time to see Ralph with Othell & Ricky, and Othell mentioned “yeah, plenty of the guys are here, there’s Jeff, and…” and I looked in the direction where he was waving a hand at and even with his back turned, I knew I was looking at the great Jeff Lamp.

HE HAD SHOWN UP!!!!  HE WAS THERE!!! I WAS GOING TO MEET HIM!!!!

Playing it super cool, natch, we got our turn to talk to Ralph, and he was cool too. I told him about my brother going to his basketball camp and how pleased he’d been with the experience re: how hands-on Ralph was throughout it, which Ralph seemed to appreciate. More so, he got a kick out of me telling him that my brother had attended the camp under false pretenses by claiming to be me, what with my not being allowed to go thanks to my shitty grades.

So then it was finally time. Jeff Lamp was kind of standing there by himself in a small sea of moving bodies, and I moved in (with the Gnat guiding my ass which was in a bit off a stupor – were it not for him I’m pretty sure I woulda just stood around commenting on the cheese plates all night.) Jeff Lamp happily shook my hand, and I told him how much he was my favorite player as a kid, he was my hero blah blah blah. He laughed and said something like “gee, don’t tell me you were like in third grade or something!” which I laughed off as in oh don’t be ridiculous of course I wasn’t that young when OMG IN 1980-81 I WAS EXACTLY IN 3RD GRADE!!!!! Then I moved on to my whole thing about not being able to find him online and suddenly he says oh yeah, someone found and passed that along to him and he’d seen it.

JEFF. LAMP. HAS. SEEN. XMASTIME. YA’LL!!!!!!!!!!!!   

Long story short, I did not hold back on the gushing. What the fuck, I know I’ll never see him again, and I wanted him to know how much he'd meant to me as a kid. He didn’t seem like the type who was really used to strangers coming up to him and telling him how awesome he is, but he was nothing but incredibly friendly and polite.

Meeting Jeff Lamp is something I’ll never, ever forget.

The rest of the night was great – there was a panel where the players told stories and answered questions, and then The Gnat and I met Terry Gates and Jeff Jones as well. The event was only half-filled so there was total access to the players, all of whom happily received anyone who wanted to talk to them.

Then somehow we all found ourselves next door at the bar, where I quickly decided not to stalk my hero. I played it cool, casually hanging out talking to Jeff Jones and Terry Gates while Jeff Lamp spent most of the time talking to the woman who’d coordinated the event. He was the first to leave, after about 20 minutes. He had to catch a flight back to LA in the morning. I didn’t try some last-ditch “let’s be BFF!!!” thing; I simply watched him walk out of the bar into the parking lot and then into the night, and I was fully satisfied with the friendly encounter we’d had earlier that would be burned in my mind forever.

Once my hero was gone I exhaled and just had a blast over the next couple of hours with Othell, Ricky, Ralph  & Terry Gates, who let me look at his 1980 NIT ring. I didn’t even ask to hold it, I simply asked if that’s what the ring was and before I even realized it he was giving it to me to hold and look at. Very cool.

Although I’ve blathered away for a few thousand words here, none of them could actually convey what it meant for me to meet Jeff Lamp. I don’t even feel silly at all for being a man in his 40s acting like a schoolgirl meeting Taylor Swift. After all, if you ever had a hero as a kid, a part of them never truly goes away. If you’re lucky.

Xmastime & Jeff Lamp hanging out, no big whoop.

 Xmastime & The Gnat chilling with Ralph fucking Sampson.

Othell & Ricky! And Xmastime! "The Guys!"

Xmastime & The Gnat with point guard Jeff Jones

(l-r) Othell Wilson, some guy, Jeff Lamp, Ralph Sampson, Terry Gates, Ricky Stokes, some guy

Stumped by my thoughtful question, "what the hell IS dry ice?"

Ricky Stokes just as I'm cutting one. Whoops.

Terry Gates' 1980 NIT ring. I'll prolly send it back, found out it's only worth $19.95 on ebay.

Othell Wilson, just before I hit him up for some cash.

Xmastime, Ralph & The Gnat on a Saturday night. No biggie.

A big thank you to The Gnat for making this possible for me. Here he is with Jeff Lamp.

3/30/1981

You many, many, MANY fans know that over the years I've blathered on and on about Jeff Lamp being my first basketball hero, and today marks 40 years since he played his last college game for UVa. It was in what was to be the final consolation game in the NCAA tournament, making that team the last one to win their last game and NOT be champs.

My post about when I met him (no big whoop for me):

Jeff Lamp was my first hero as a kid, a smooth-shooting All-American forward who hit clutch shots like most people breathe air. I'd watch Virginia play on Raycom Sports and then sprint outside and pretend I was Jeff Lamp, falling out of bounds from the corner and hitting yet another big shot to send the Cavaliers to the Final Four. I probably dreamed of him and me and Lee Raker rooming together and going out for pizza after big games, which of course is to say that I absolutely dreamed of him and me and Lee Raker rooming together and going out for pizza after big games and generally shooting the shit about what great friends we all were.

As you most hardcore, dedicated to the point at which your family is beginning to worry about you fans of Xmastime know, I've spent the past few years wondering where in the hell on the Internet Jeff Lamp is. Yes, he graduated from college in 1981, way before the Internet (so was WWII but there's plenty of photos/info on that!) but for a guy who led UVa in scoring 4 times, was all-ACC 2 years and an All-American while playing alongside Ralph Sampson, I've always been surprised at how little stuff on him I could find online. It's not like he was a damn scrub, he was one of the ACC's all-time great players. Yet he's always remained a bit of an enigma, an enigma draining yet another 17-footer in his Adidas.

Incredibly, a coupla weeks ago longtime Xmastime buddy The Gnat let me know that the 1981 Final Four team was being honored as part of a scholarship program in Richmond. This was my all-time favorite college basketball team. It's hard to imagine now, but back in those days UVa was the biggest team in the country, veritable rock stars like teams like Duke et al would become later on. Well, in my eyes anyway. It was the prefect storm of their being a great team, me being a 9 year old boy living in the sticks with nothing else to do and the time being what many people still consider to be the ACC's Golden Age.

I was of course absolutely thrilled when I saw Jeff Lamp's name on the "expected to appear" list for the event. Now, as great of a college player as he was, and he had a cup of coffee in the NBA, it's not like anyone really knows where he is, or what he's doing. His is not exactly a universal name. It's not like he's popping up on ESPN every week - you have to be a pretty hardcore fan of that era to know who he is. As years (decades, ugh) have passed a sort of mythology has built up in my mind, my childhood idol worship of him intertwined with his lack of presence on the Internet. I mean hell, of course Ralph was a bigger, more famous player but if you REALLY wanted to meet him you probably could, at any of the events he participates in throughout the basketball season. Or just go to Harrisonburg and sit around for a while. Lamp, meanwhile, seemed like a character dreamed from a past life, fantastical unicorn out there never to be seen or heard from again.

I was thrilled, but also skeptical...what if I went to the event and he didn't show up? Don't get me wrong - it'd still be a thrill meeting the other guys: Sampson. Gates. Othell. Ricky. Jeff Jones. Terry Gates. But the dream meeting, my white whale so to speak, would be Jeff Lamp.

So the Gnat and I walk into the Virginia Historical Society lobby in Richmond, and there’s a spread of appetizers along with a small and surprisingly open bar, and before we could really adjust ourselves to the setting we practically bumped into "The Blitz Brothers," "The Smurfs", Othell Wilson and Ricky Stokes. We were like wow, Othell & Ricky! And they couldn’t have been more welcoming; it was as if they spent all their days greeting complete strangers to gawk at people who hadn’t touched a basketball court in decades. Boom – right away, it was arms around shoulders and pictures being taken and The Gnat & I talking about going to school in a neighboring country from the high school his brother Bobby had starred at before going on to be a part of the first (and only until 2 years ago) Virginia team to win the ACC Tournament. And of course as we’re talking to them you couldn’t help but notice a particular 7’4” guy lurking within a few feet of us, greeting and taking pictures with anyone who came up to him. We waited our time to see Ralph with Othell & Ricky, and Othell mentioned “yeah, plenty of the guys are here, there’s Jeff, and…” and I looked in the direction where he was waving a hand at and even with his back turned, I knew I was looking at the great Jeff Lamp.

HE HAD SHOWN UP!!!!  HE WAS THERE!!! I WAS GOING TO MEET HIM!!!!

Playing it super cool, natch, we got our turn to talk to Ralph, and he was cool too. I told him about my brother going to his basketball camp and how pleased he’d been with the experience re: how hands-on Ralph was throughout it, which Ralph seemed to appreciate. More so, he got a kick out of me telling him that my brother had attended the camp under false pretenses by claiming to be me, what with my not being allowed to go thanks to my shitty grades.

So then it was finally time. Jeff Lamp was kind of standing there by himself in a small sea of moving bodies, and I moved in (with the Gnat guiding my ass which was in a bit off a stupor – were it not for him I’m pretty sure I woulda just stood around commenting on the cheese plates all night.) Jeff Lamp happily shook my hand, and I told him how much he was my favorite player as a kid, he was my hero blah blah blah. He laughed and said something like “gee, don’t tell me you were like in third grade or something!” which I laughed off as in oh don’t be ridiculous of course I wasn’t that young when OMG IN 1980-81 I WAS EXACTLY IN 3RD GRADE!!!!! Then I moved on to my whole thing about not being able to find him online and suddenly he says oh yeah, someone found and passed that along to him and he’d seen it.

JEFF. LAMP. HAS. SEEN. XMASTIME. YA’LL!!!!!!!!!!!!   

Long story short, I did not hold back on the gushing. What the fuck, I know I’ll never see him again, and I wanted him to know how much he'd meant to me as a kid. He didn’t seem like the type who was really used to strangers coming up to him and telling him how awesome he is, but he was nothing but incredibly friendly and polite.

Meeting Jeff Lamp is something I’ll never, ever forget.

The rest of the night was great – there was a panel where the players told stories and answered questions, and then The Gnat and I met Terry Gates and Jeff Jones as well. The event was only half-filled so there was total access to the players, all of whom happily received anyone who wanted to talk to them.

Then somehow we all found ourselves next door at the bar, where I quickly decided not to stalk my hero. I played it cool, casually hanging out talking to Jeff Jones and Terry Gates while Jeff Lamp spent most of the time talking to the woman who’d coordinated the event. He was the first to leave, after about 20 minutes. He had to catch a flight back to LA in the morning. I didn’t try some last-ditch “let’s be BFF!!!” thing; I simply watched him walk out of the bar into the parking lot and then into the night, and I was fully satisfied with the friendly encounter we’d had earlier that would be burned in my mind forever.

Once my hero was gone I exhaled and just had a blast over the next couple of hours with Othell, Ricky, Ralph  & Terry Gates, who let me look at his 1980 NIT ring. I didn’t even ask to hold it, I simply asked if that’s what the ring was and before I even realized it he was giving it to me to hold and look at. Very cool.

Although I’ve blathered away for a few thousand words here, none of them could actually convey what it meant for me to meet Jeff Lamp. I don’t even feel silly at all for being a man in his 40s acting like a schoolgirl meeting Taylor Swift. After all, if you ever had a hero as a kid, a part of them never truly goes away. If you’re lucky.

These two teamed up to score 2,317 points in college!

1981, ACC, Obama

Every year at about this time I swear to myself I'm gonna dedicate myself to college basketball the way I did as a kid; watching late Wednesday nights and then glued to games all weekend. Knowing every player, every coach, every arena. Of course, I never do...these years, I seem to barely care when the tournament comes around. I don't know why, maybe it's old age, whatever. Basically, instead of sitting through this current season, I'd rather have a channel that broadcasted, say, the 1980-1981 season in real time - same games on the same days throughout the winter as they were all those years ago.

Yesterday morning I woke up and found myself watching the Sportscentury episode on Dean Smith, and I got all weepy during the late 70s/80s period; "that's MY ACC!" I whined and moaned. There were even clips of Carolina playing my most beloved and hallowed of all squads, the 1981 UVa team that featured my all-time hero Jeff Lamp along with Lee Raker, Terry Gates, Othell and Ricky and of course Ralph Sampson. I got all misty, picturing myself eating popcorn balls on a Wednesday night as snow fell like crazy and Raycom Sports with Mike Patrick and Dan Bonner had the game coming at me live from U-Hall. Of course, who knows if it was actually like that but that's how I picture it. I spent all day mythologizing my glory days of ACC basketball, til my head hit the pillow. As I was drifting off, I started thinking how absurd it was that Louisiana had gone for McCain. "How could that be possible?" I wondered. If there was one state that had the prerogative to say "fuck you, we're choosing an olive loaf before choosing the party that left our most important city to be flushed away", it woulda been LA, right? But no. They lined up and voted for McCain. I was shaking my head as I drifted off to sleep.

Anyways, I was just reading this article in the Daily News, and my eyes stopped on this paragraph:

Obama won a major victory - beating John McCain by 7.5 million votes - by redrawing the political map to campaign in states considered off-limits to Dems, like Virginia, Indiana and North Carolina. He should expand his legislative and policy map the same way.

Hmm, I thought...why do these three states' names together jump out at me? Why do they mean something when put together? The it hit me - ALL THREE WERE IN THE 1981 FINAL FOUR!!!!!!! My favorite team of all time lost to Al Wood and James Worthy, setting up a UNC/Indiana final of course won Indiana, featuring Isiah Thomas (BEFORE he started single-handedly imploding franchises and entire leagues.) How bout that, I thought, the three most prominent states Obama swung, and they were all at the Spectrum back in 1981. Man.

What does that mean? I have no idea, really. But you know who was the fourth team that weekend? The team that played UVa in the consolation game and lost, therein finishing in LAST place in that weekend's Final Four?

Louisiana State University.

Fuck yeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeewwww!!!!!!!

ACC

Here's the ACC All-50th Anniversary Team.

I'd say the five greatest ACC players I ever saw would be:

Ralph Sampson
Len Bias
Kenny Anderson
Christian Laettner
Johnny Dawkins

WTF?

Yesterday morning I woke up and found myself watching the Sportscentury episode on Dean Smith, and I got all weepy during the late 70s/80s period; "that's MY ACC!" I whined and moaned. There were even clips of Carolina playing my most beloved and hallowed of all squads, the 1981 UVa team that featured my all-time hero Jeff Lamp along with Lee Raker, Terry Gates, Othell and Ricky and of course Ralph Sampson. I got all misty, picturing myself eating popcorn balls on a Wednesday night as snow fell like crazy and Raycom Sports with Mike Patrick and Dan Bonner had the game coming at me live from U-Hall. Of course, who knows if it was actually like that but that's how I picture it. - XMASTIME

I've mentioned coming of age during the Golden Age of My Beloved ACC millions of times before, and the voice from those years was Mike Patrick (and Dan Bonner), who announced most of them.  Raycom Sports, Jefferson-Pilot, whichever.  When I think back to those great teams and historical players, I hear that voice, and so if I think about Mike Patrick now I assume well, they only roll him out during huge tournament games, or if for some reason the 1981 Cavaliers reunited to play Carolina in a rematch of the Final Four.  Every year I'm slightly shocked the first time I flip to a meaningless Wednesday night game in November, and there that voice is.  Unsettling.

I'm Still Handsome, at Least

From HERE:

I'm such a douche when it comes to NCAA basketball; I'm the proverbial curmudgeon/old fuck "oh, it was better in my day!" motherfucker. A worthless old man. And when that kid hit that big three at the end of regulation for Kansas tonite, my first thoughts were, unbelievably, "I guess I'll try to act like this was as big a shot as the ones I saw in the 80's." HA! So condescending, I thought to myself as I settled in to finish the game.

Then I thought you know what, fuck you! Just cause you're old don't mean you ain't right. I'm sorry, but the stretch from 1982-1987 is unparalleled: 3 big shots to win (Jordan, Lo Charles, Keith Smart), the greatest upset in tourney history (Villanova), the SECOND higgest upset in tourney history (NC State), a coronation (I think Georgetown beat Houston 84-75, but believe me it wasn't that close.) Every year, history. Freddy Brown. John Thompson. Derrick Coleman. And if that wasn't enuff, the year after 1987 featured Danny and the Miracles, and the year after that a Michigan team whose coach quit, and then we move on to Duke/UNLV for a few years. Unbelievable.

I will go to my grave swearing that the 80's/90's (mostly the 80's) was the Golden Age for ACC Basketball. And yet the ACC has as many national championships in this past 10 years (five) than in both those decades combined. Whack.

Tis' the Season

College basketball is upon us, which means of course that it's time for me to start bitching & moaning about hiw it's not like it was when I was growing up, during the Golden Age of the ACC.

The five best ACC players I saw play (on tv):
Ralph Sampson (here's my defense for his oddly-needed redemption)
Len Bias
Kenny Anderson
Christian Laettner
Johnny Dawkins

I came after the oddly-forgotten David Thompson.

And of course my favorite will always be Jeff Lamp.

Ha!

I watched about 6 minutes of college basketball this year, so I feel justified in smugly pointing out that the Big East went an absurd 2-9 in the first round, a new low for a super-conference gaining a rep as being overrated come tournament time. Brothatime!! passed along this quote from (who else?) Sir Charles:

Not living up to the hype: The Big East. The conference that placed a record 11 teams in the tournament only moved two into the second week and both of those teams moved on by winning second-round games against conference rivals.

“The Big East is overrated and after Notre Dame loses tonight, it’s just going to be another feather in my cap,” said opinionated analyst Charles Barkley, a few minutes before the second-seeded Irish took the court against No. 10 Florida State.

Not only does the ACC have more teams left in the dance (albeit one is FSU, whom I do not recognize as being a real ACC team, along with Miami/BC/VT, fuck them), but now there are as many schools in Richmond, VA still in as there are Big East teams. Ha!

NCAA Tourney

Every year my NCAA Tournament picks get more ridiculous as I "somehow" manage to have an All-ACC Final Four. This year I've upped the ante by having 3 ACC teams plus Virginia Commonwealth, which has about enough chance of making the Final Four as I do of growing white truffles out of my ass. Christ, I'm surprised I didn't get my 3rd period gym class from 8th grade in their. Ah well.

(click for larger image)

David Thompson, II

From his Wiki page:

After leading North Carolina State University to an undefeated season (27-0) in 1973, he led them to an NCAA Men's Division I Basketball Championship in 1974, including vanquishing the reigning national champions, UCLA.

NC State's game against the nationally 4th-ranked University of Maryland in the 1974 ACC Tournament finale, in an era in which only conference champions were invited to the NCAA Tournament, is considered one of the best, if not the greatest, college basketball games of all time. Thompson and the Wolfpack would go on to win the National Championship that year while Maryland sat at home. Maryland's exclusion from the NCAA Tournament due to the loss despite their high national ranking would lead to the expansion of the NCAA Tournament the very next season to include teams other than the league champions.

Thompson played basketball while the slam dunk was outlawed by the "Lew Alcindor" rule. In 1975, against University of North Carolina at Charlotte playing his final non-conference game at N.C. State, early in the second half Thompson drove the length of the court for his first and only dunk of his collegiate career, a goal that was promptly disallowed by technical foul. Head coach Norm Sloan removed Thompson, to thunderous applause. The ACC's most exciting player, who had performed for three years without ever performing the game's most exciting act, thus passed into history.

Thompson's 44 remains the only number NC State ever retired in Men's Basketball.

Len Bias

Every year on this day I think about Len Bias, my sadness twofold as I think about one of the(the?) greatest players I ever saw in the middle of the ACC Golden Era as well as what the Celtics missed out on when he died two days after they drafted him. Prolly the greatest "what if?" in basketball history. I've waxed crybaby here before about those ACC days, you know this. And his death is somehow my own JFK moment - I can still feel myself lolling on my bed that summer day, facing the wall on my left and reading "Ball Four" when the announcement came on the radio. No, he was no JFK, but JFK was no Frosty either.

Anyways, I guess I never really knew how much his death affected drug enforcement; it turns out with the 1986 midterm elections coming on the heels of his death every politico wanted to go on record as being a hard-ass on drug enforcement, and our War on Drugs really cranked up and the number of inmates imprisoned because of drugs went from 36,000 to 159,000 in a matter of years. Of course mostly young black men. I can't believe this is really a good thing, unless you think constantly sending men to prison over and over has won the war on drugs. The Archduke Ferdinand of the Drug War, they call him now. Jesus.

ACC Bay-beee!

Absolutely intoxicating for anyone who loves ACC basketball and the players from NYC who helped make it so great.

The 50 Greatest College Basketball Players of All Time

Over at Grantland, Chuck Klosterman has put together a list of The 50 Greatest College Basketball Players of All-Time. He makes a point of saying by this he means great players whose college careers were more memorable than any subsequent professional one.  This list in particular appeals to me since we’re the same age, meaning some usually-forgotten-by-history names like Fennis Dembo are in there.  Of course I will now list how each player can be attached to me, prolly while breaking a personal record for internal links. I'm doing 50-26, the rest tomorrow.  You're welcome!


And yes, we'll give his glaring omission of Jeff Lamp a pass, surely due to his having to work under the crushing boot-heel of The Sports Guy.

50. Alfredrick Hughes (Loyola University, 1981-1985): There will never be another Alfredrick Hughes, which is kind of like saying there will never be another GG Allin. As a freshman, he once missed 20 consecutive shots vs. Bradley. As a junior, he took 655 shots and finished the year with only 17 assists. He's perhaps best remembered for a bootleg T-shirt that was popular around campus that screamed, "SAVE LOYOLA BASKETBALL, SHOOT ALFREDRICK HUGHES. " But the freak could always fill it up: 17.0 as a frosh, 25.7 as a sophomore, 27.6 as a junior, and 26.3 as a senior. Somewhere in Chicago, Alfredrick is taking an ill-advised shot right now.

I don't remember him, although for some reason I feel like I’ve heard of that t-shirt.  Personally I can relate to Alfrederick since as a young I never met a shot I didn’t take and passed about as often as the seasons changed.  Once I got the ball head back to defense, cause you weren’t getting it back, particularly if I was comfortably in my crater at The Chinn Dome.  Oh wait, maybe that's why I remember the t-shirt - they made one about me!!!

49. David Rivers (Notre Dame, 1984-1988): Ultra-quick and totally unpredictable, Rivers was a point guard from a video game (and I mean a video game from the '80s, when nobody cared how realistic they were). When Al McGuire used to announce Irish games on NBC, you could almost hear the saliva dripping off his lips whenever Rivers broke somebody's tibia. Of course, David was never designed for the pro game, and he knew it. He knew it before anyone else. Here's what he said after getting cut by Minnesota Timberwolves coach Bill Musselman: "I didn't fit in. He wanted a guard who would run the offense, pass the ball, and play defense. That's not me at all."

I don’t remember any ND basketball layer existing other than David Rivers; I remember that weird light pole for fouls on their home court that looked like a traffic light more than anyone else. He was electric, tho I don’t remember him not playing defense.  Which also sounds like me – my version of “playing defense” in 2-on-2 games meant insisting on playing a “zone”, which consisted of my teammate chasing the opponent with the ball while I waited under the basket for the defensive rebound so I could hustle back to my crater and launch off another one.  Mainly, this gives me an excuse to link to Al McGuire’s great quotes!

48. Gerry McNamara (Syracuse, 2002-2006): There have been many players better than Gerry McNamara. But how many humans ever played better than McNamara during the best week of his life? His four-game performance in the 2008 2006 Big East tournament was more extraordinary than Billy Owens' entire career.

Those tourneys with him were whack; you had the feeling he’d show up right before tip-off in the quarterfinal and his own teammates would say “Who the hell is this guy?”  Needs to have a Lifetime movie made of his tournament runs, starring Ollie from Hickory, of whom I’ll be disappointed if he’s changed his look one single bit.

47. Stacey Augmon (UNLV, 1987-1991): Nobody ever terrorized the passing lanes like the Plastic Man. Is it possible to be "laid-back" and "aggressive" simultaneously? Somehow, that was Augmon's natural state of existence.

Anyone on those 1987 or 1990/1 UNLV teams could be on this list; as I wrote HERE a dream matchup would be between them.  The only one that really did anything in the NBA was Larry Johnson, and even then the only thing anyone remembers is his 4-point play against the Knicks.  Why’d the Knicks give up 4 points on a single play, you ask? Because they couldn’t give up 5, of course.

UPDATE: Erieberg in the comments section is right in pointing out that Johnson was ON the Knicks. Duh!  I guess I should change the joke to "hey, the Knicks haven't won a playoff series since 2000!"

46. Daren Queenan (Lehigh, 1984-1988): "My body is my briefcase," Queenan once said cryptically, apparently meaning that his body is what he took to work. A 6-foot-4 small forward, he ended his time at Lehigh with 2,703 points and 1,013 rebounds. He eventually won the CBA slam dunk contest and became a naturalized citizen of Belgium. If there's ever a dunk contest in Bruges, I would still put my bones on this dude.

Never heard of him; I can’t say I saw a lot of “committed to Lehigh” players in my old Street & Smiths.  Points for being closest on the list to have the last name “Queef.”  I also didn’t know people moved TO Belgium – how white did this dude wanna be? (Side note - remember, women who queef are people too.)

45. Danny Ferry (Duke, 1985-1989): He was at least as good at basketball as Jay Bilas is at Twitter.

What? Klosterman seems dismissive here.  Fuck that, Ferry was fucking great at Duke; the link between the Dawkins/Alarie years and the Laettner/Hurley ones.  Or does he mean to say Bilas is better at Twitter than he was at basketball? Because he was.  Nobody was ever scared of Jay Bilas when he walked onto the floor “oh shit - it’s Greg Kite’s better looking kid brother! However will will stop him from getting his 5 points and 4 boards today?!?!?!!”

44. Reggie Williams (Virginia Military Institute, 2004-2007): Here we have the third-most famous athlete ever named "Reggie Williams" who played for a team that never went .500 on the year. But he scored a metric ton (a 22.8 average over the course of 112 games), leading the nation as both a junior and a senior.

I don’t remember him, although I remember some little white kid from VMI scoring a million points a game while I was in college.  Can’t remember his name, but to show my skills I will NOT Google.  Gay Elmore? Is that right? Hahaha – “Elmore”!  Hahaha!  Anyway, this seems like a good spot to lobby for Georgetown’s Reggie Williams to be on this list; was the non-thug on those great Georgetown teams.  I dunno if he was a GREAT player, but a really really good one for sure.  Great pedigree, having gone to Dunbar for high school (“the private school version of the Northern Neck District”, as some snidely referred to it.) And I’m pretty sure nobody has any memories of him in an NBA uniform.  Not to be confused with the running back who owns the NFL record for being fucking weird.

43. Scott Skiles (Michigan State, 1982-1986): "You know, there is no way I would have Scott Skiles on this team," Bob Knight told his Hoosier roster in 1986. "But Scott Skiles is tougher than every single one of you." Scotty was arrested three times during college (once for weed, once for cocaine possession, and once for a DUI). He was a problem, but mostly for people who tried to guard him and inevitably failed. It almost seemed like he vandalized opponents. His pro career was statistically relevant (he had 30 assists in one night for the Magic, which is still a record), but it's his hard-partying college days that matter more.

I don’t care fuck-all about Skiles except that I can still picture where Brothatime!! and I were sitting watching the NCAA tournament when he made the greatest pass I’ve ever seen, still to this day: a double wrap-around that I’m pretty sure he traveled during, but was so amazing the ref choked on his whistle. Bonus points for having a last name that most closely resembles the best friend of Scott Howard, one of my favorite white ballers not named “moi.”

42. Michael Graham (Georgetown, 1983-1984): The human incarnation of Hoya intimidation.

I have no idea why he’s on this list other than he was THE face for that Georgetown-as-thugs era, as I wrote HERE "If this team walked on the court right now as 50 year-old men, I'd still drop a load in my pants. Very telling that they whupped Houston, who is maybe THE all-time team that didn't win a title, in 1984, and to this day nobody has noticed. Of course they did; Georgetown prolly would've taken the Celtics to six games that year."  I don’t think he ever scored a point or grabbed a board, I think his job was literally to leave his cell and show up at the gym to scare the shit outta people for two hours, then go back to jail.  Although I seem to remember it was him on the cover of SI after they won their surprisnly lone title in 1984.  Scored once in his whole career, and it was on the cover of SI; this reminds me of when we got out yearbooks one year and flipped to the football section, which featured a guy on our team named Jimmy, and I quote from the yearbook,  “pounding yet another opponent into submission.” Upon seeing this, Brothatime!! spoke the truth by pointing out that Jimmy "makes one fucking tackle all year, and it's in the goddam yearbook." As a side note, enjoy Jimmy’s wide array of Cy Young-esque pitches HERE. (Sample: "2. The Equalizer: Made all hitters equal – to Barry Bonds.")

41. Fennis Dembo (Wyoming, 1984-1988): Undoubtedly the only Wyoming cager who'll ever be on the cover of Sports Illustrated, he probably would have been recruited by Kentucky had his name been Dennis Fembo.

Fennis Dembo!  I can’t remember if it was him or Derrick Chievous that once stood in front of an opponent trying to inbound the ball and shouted “check!”  After hearing this we never passed up an opportunity to do this ourselves; we succeeded exactly 0 out of 89,762 times, but we got a kick out of it every fucking time. Dembo ensures that Dick Cheney will only ever be the second-greatest shooter out of Wyoming.

40. Eric "Sleepy" Floyd (Georgetown, 1978-1982): When recalling the 1982 NCAA title game, people tend to mention two things — Michael Jordan's clutch jump shot from the left wing, and James Worthy intercepting a miscalculated pass from Hoya point guard Fred Brown. Yet if Brown doesn't turn it over, Jordan's jumper might be a footnote; everyone watching that game expected Mr. Narcolepsy to score on that final possession. Never sleep on the Sleepy.

I refuse to comment on this because I can’t believe “never sleep on the sleepy” made it to the internet.  Even I have standards, albeit not when it comes to women, or anything else other than college basketball players from three decades ago.

39 and 38 (tie). Phil Ford (North Carolina, 1974-1978) and Walt Hazzard (UCLA, 1962-1964): Both represented the class of their respective programs without drawing undue attention to themselves.

I know I’m prolly too ACC-centric but how does Phil Ford not go higher 39/38? 3-time All-American, first ACC player ever to score 2000 points and 600 assists? Okay, I don’t actually give a shit, I can’t work up too much steam here.  And I don’t care about Walt Hazzard other than to point that decades after winning 10 NCAA titles in 12 years, the Bruins still had to share it’s court with the goddam volleyball team; I used to see all those fucking vb lines on the court and scream “YOU’RE FUCKING UCLA, FOR GOD SAKE!! WTF!!” Of course I’d also scream “JUST LET THE FUCK GO AND GET ANOTHER ONE, THERE’S MORE EGGOS IN THE FUCKING BOX ASSHOLE!!  YOU'RE EATING WAFFLES, WHICH MEANS YOU'RE RICH!!!  JUST GET MORE!” at the screen, but that’s neither here nor there. Also made you rich when I was a kid? Soft butter.

37. Chris Jackson (LSU, 1988-1990): Before changing his name and being unjustly persecuted for his political ideals, Jackson was a two-season Cajun superstar (he averaged over 30 a night as a frosh). As a sophomore, he played on an LSU team that had Shaquille O'Neal at center and 7-foot, 285-pound Stanley Roberts at power forward. They went 12-6 in the SEC, somehow.

And Christ, that was back when the “SEC” meant “Kentucky, and then some white guys keeping in football shape.” (You of course remember my “number of white guys on a team” rule.) That might’ve been the most under-achieving team of all time, next to those Jerome Lane/Charles Smith Pitt teams.  Backboards Lane shattered during a game: 1, Meaningful March games Lane ever played in: 0

36. Adam Morrison (Gonzaga, 2003-2006): He had the best Maui Invitational ever, and a mustache that failed. What's more collegiate than that?

I never cared about him crying after he was done playing, but I’ve been sick of people trying to claim Gonzaga’s gonna “win it all this year!” They’re the fucking Boise State of basketball, fuck ‘em.  I do give him credit for having a less-gay name than his predecessor at Gonzaga, Brook Steppe, who was also less gay-sounding than HIS predecessor at Gonzaga, Princess Larry.

35. Scott May (Indiana, 1973-1976): The textbook example of a man designed only for the college game. His kid might be similar. Both deserve recognition.

A mystery figure on that unbeaten ’76 team – I don’t think anyone on Earth has ever seen a photo of Scott May.  Creepy.  I’ve always read that if hadn’t broken his arm in the NCAA the year before, IU woulda gone both years undefeated.  Good thing, that mighta led to Bobby Knight getting a big head and being full of himself, acting like a rampaging tyrant. Shew!  Bullet dodged!

34. Rex Chapman (Kentucky, 1986-1988): I have a (possibly racist?) book in my library that described King Rex like this: "Jumps like a brother, shoots like your mother." I suppose Chapman did have a lot of 7-for-18 games in his life, but the seven he made were always worth it. He was clutch. I still have a Rex Chapman T-shirt somewhere in my parents' house. It never fit right.

Brothatime!! And I loved us some Rex when we started hearing about him coming outta Apollo High; he could jump through the roof and considered himself within his range if he could see the building the game was in - ie, my game, minus the jumping.  Well, or being allowed by the state to enter school buildings.  Jeff Jones, point guard back when UVa hoops mattered (aka The Dark Ages) also went to Apollo and still holds the record for assists-to-“how did this person get an athletic scholarship?” ratio. Also to his credit, he allegedly got drummed outta coaching at UVa for banging cheerleaders, which is to say that next time you find yourself asking “where have all our heroes gone?”, Jeff Jones is a good place to start.

33. Juan Dixon (Maryland, 1998-2002): No matter what happens, I'll always consider Dixon a greater talent than Steve Blake. And I really like Steve Blake; I just can't understand how the things Dixon did at Maryland couldn't translate to the next level. And that makes me like him more.

Who doesn’t love Juan Dixon? And he’s right that Dixon was better than Blake, who for some reason is still in the NBA; presumably in case a play about Timothy McVeigh breaks out.

32. Rick Mount (Purdue, 1966-1970): The fact that people still refer to Rick Mount as the ultimate paragon of jump shot purity is one of life's most wonderful mysteries.

I remember reading about Rick Mount in the 1983 SI article about Indiana basketball I’m still fucking looking for; he was the total package: lanky, laconic, still called the greatest pure shooter ever, and rocked the hell out of the KKK sweater/Eddie Munster hairdo combo.

31. Tom Gola (La Salle, 1952-1955): Fellows from La Salle put up bongo numbers. Gola had 2,201 career rebounds. Granted, they came during an era when boards were easier to come by — but still — how does a guy end up with more rebounds in three seasons than the number of points Patrick Ewing scored in four?

Obviously I never watched Gola, and I can’t think of a way to tie this back to ME, so let’s move on.

30. Butch Lee (Marquette, 1974-1978): The on-court star of Marquette's '77 championship was (until the ascent of Carmelo Anthony) generally viewed as the best Puerto Rican hoopster of all time, although I don't know how important that designation is (or should be). He certainly had an excellent name, particularly since his career ambition was to become a professional ball player. I can't imagine meeting someone named "Butch Lee" and thinking to myself, "I bet this guy is a terrible athlete."

He’s right about the name, and look – more Al McGuire!  “Lee” might just be a great last name, like Memphis State’s Keith Lee; “Lee” was the name of a girl I grew up with that we’d alternate crushes on each other, never timing it correctly and always passing each other like horny ships in the night.  She also became the video recorder of our high school basketball games, which is funny now that I think about it because we never actually watched these tapes as a team. So…somewhere, my old coach has piles of VHS tapes of young boys running around in nuthuggers.  Hmm. Interesting.  Also, her recording our games meant she witnessed the GREATEST WALK OF ALL TIME, which surely snuffed out any feelings she had for me for the final time. Sigh.

29 and 28. Phillip Hutcheson and John Pierce (Lipscomb, 1986-1990 and 1990-1994): This is just bizarre: Hutcheson scored 4,106 points in his career for the Bison, which — at the time of his graduation — was the most by any player at any level (back then, Lipscomb was still an NAIA program). He was then replaced by Pierce, who somehow finished his career with 4,230. So the two greatest scorers in college history just happened to play at the same tiny school, in immediate succession, for no justifiable reason.

I have no idea who these guys are; I will say I’ve never been scared of a guy named “Phillip,” on the court or off, much less I’ve never been scared of a basketball team that rolls up to the court to Springsteen. Camon.

10:12pm "Be True. another sophomore go-to song in car before basketball game." Wow. Good thing for the other team they didn't know about that - I'm sure there's nothing a basketball team fears more than a white guy who's just been pumped up by mid-tempo Springsteen studio outtakes. Bullet dodged!!!! "oh no, he's displaying fine sportsmanship and is making crisp passes!! He's been listening to Bruce!!!!!!!!!! We are FUUUUUCKED!!!"

27. Glenn Robinson (Purdue, 1991-1994): Robinson hailed from Gary, Indiana, a town so tough I'll probably get murdered by Freddie Gibbs just for making a joke about it. During the offseason, he (literally) worked as a welder; during the real season, he (figuratively) swallowed chumps alive. The best Big 10 player of the '90s.

I don’t know why Big Dog wasn’t a great pro player; he was 9 feet tall with a 300-inch wingspan who passed less often than me (hahahaha!! Wiping tears of laughter, as if that’s actually possible)(me passing, not the tears of laughter)(okay, just tears)(of anger and loneliness)(just loneliness.) He also played for The Worst Wig in Big 10 History, so.

26. Dereck Whittenburg (North Carolina State, 1980-1983): Our historical record suggests that Whittenburg was the third or fourth-best player on State's '83 championship roster; Thurl Bailey, Sidney Lowe, and Lorenzo Charles all had better post-college playing careers. Yet this contradicts the experience of everyone who watched the Wolfpack's run that March and can only remember the cherubic cat who kept ripping twine from 33 feet away.

Ahh, now you’re gonna get me all misty-eyed re: the glory days of my ACC.  Whittenburg of course has the most famous assist of all-time to the late Lo’ Charles – if it was me, of course I’d hafta pretend it wasn’t a legitimate shot from 45 feet out.  “I was open.” Anyway, WHY THE FUCK HASN’T THERE BEEN A DOC ABOUT THE STATE/HOUSTON UPSET?!!?!? Christ, if only for an excuse to show the Houston/Louisville semifinal!


Tomorrow: 25-1! Also, players I think shoulda been included (Hershey Hawkins, I'm looking at you.)


In the meantime, May Lee Raker Be With You.

NCAA Final

A coupla weeks ago I read that in each year UConn won the NCAA Tournament Jim Calhoun missed the first game due to illness. Which he also did this year.

And it's occurred to me that in both instances he beat ACC teams (Duke, Wake.)

Which means it's gotta be UConn over Carolina.

Which sucks, cause I hate UConn.

Hoop Dreams

Geez. First I spend all day getting weepy watching old-school ACC games, and now Hoosiers is on AGAIN. Lil early to be getting my basketball jones going, ain't it? Or is somebody telling me something...that it's time to start playing above the rim like I used to??!?!??!!

"This don't make me gay, right?"

Xmastime Is Officially Calling Bullshit

On this absurd article ranking every 30 for 30 doc. The Reggie Miller one at 41? The Bo Jackson one at 35? Are these people out of their goddam minds?!! Even at 12, the Marcus Depree one is way, WAY underrated. And the Cody Webster one at the bottom of the heap? Oh, HELLS no!!

And while I of course loved Len Bias and ACC basketball of that era in general, the Bias one is my least favorite (how many times can we play the fucking 911 call - can we get ANYTHING about him as a player? Please? Please?!!), so of course these brain-dead fuckers have it at 3. Of course.

Final evidence this list is bullshit? The winning doc is about soccer. I mean, come the fuck on with that shit already. Fucking hell.

Tourney Week!

Is there anything more exciting than ACC Tournament Week? Maybe your first plate being handed to you at a buffet. But that’s it. Desperately trying to sprint out of school to get home to watch the first round games, hearing rumors every year re: Maryland upsetting UNC etc. As a young buck I prided myself on being a great, nay – amazing shooter. I was what you’d call a “chucker.” My brother called me the Black Hole, cause once the ball came in to me, it wasn’t going back out. Pass? Why would I pass it to anyone else? MAYBE I would if it was a Bird-esque number that would draw ooohs and aaahs from the crowd; otherwise, head back on D cause I’m firing it up. And defense? Defense, I’d rest up for my next shot. Hey, quicker my guy gets by me and scores, the quicker I’m gettin the ball back!

How I became such an amazing, show-stopping shooter is a bit of a mystery, since 1) I have such bad depth perception I was laughed out of my Air force physical by the doctor “oh, I’m not flying with you!!” and 2) I learned to shoot on an 11-foot goal. Bout 8 or 9 years old, we had the hoop and backboard and finally we found a downed telephone pole to mount it on. Dragged it over to our backyard, started digging. And digging. And digging. Finally we’re like fuck it, we ain’t digging no more, we’re puttin the fucker in. 10 feet high, 20 feet high, whatever. Course, it didn’t occur to us to just cut the pole, but hey. So now we gotta get the fucker up. And it’s killing us. We’re both about 5 feet tall and 80 pounds; we’re even trying the laws of science, using a barrel as a fulcrum. No dice. Pole must be 1000 pounds! Finally, after about an hour of watching through the window and laughing each time the pole would fall and narrowly miss his sons’ heads, my dad came out and with one hand threw the pole up; my brother and I hurriedly filled the hole in with dirt and were finally ready to gun the rock in our own backyard. Heaven. I can’t begin to fathom the number of hours we spent on that court. Me in my “God may have made the sky Carolina blue, but he made Ralph a Wahoo” t-shirt. All day, all night, dribble dribble dribble. Thump thump thump. Even the time I left the ball next to a heater and a baseball-sized lump appeared and we couldn’t get a new ball for a few weeks. Thump thump....chase ball down in the garden. Every serious decision I had to make between 1980 and 1990, I made there. Every piece of advice my brother gave me, was there. All the laughing, all the crying, all there. I’d daydream about girls while shooting, or I’d fantasize I was Jeff Lamp, 5 seconds left against Carolina and down by one (how is it possible the above picture is the only one on all the internet of him I could find? wtf?!??!!.) At least once a day my brother would piss me off, and my fury would be white hot, I’d hurl the ball at his head, clamp my teeth down on my bottom lip and go after him. After he was done laughing, we’d keep playing. Sometimes just casually shooting/yapping, other times clawing each others eyes out trying to beat each other. There was no grass there for a decade, just solid packed dirt. Bout a year ago I rode by our old house for the first time in years. The goal was still there, but all the grass had grown back in and I just wanted to fucking cry.