(More) March 18, 2009

Will Bryan on pavingthemiddle.blogspot.com:

It was the best of times and it was the worst of times.

I had this as the title of a blog post for weeks now. It seems that my own laziness in writing it turned out to be more serendipity than anything else.

With Davidson’s regular season winding down in February, games became more drawn out, Steph Curry became more fatigued and the impossible looked to be happening: Davidson was not only not finding a groove, they seemed to be getting worse.

All of that bad juju came to a head in Chattanooga on semifinal Sunday, where, four years prior, Davidson’s perfect conference season had been shattered by UNC-Greensboro. This time, after a fire alarm, missed defensive rebounds, poor close-out defense, and a rhythm-less and motion-less motion offense, Davidson went to the mat against College of Charleston for the second time this year and were effectively knocked out of the NCAA Tournament.

Davidson might lose games. In fact, Davidson does lose games. But they never lose seasons, and this season, that of the Top 25s, All-America honors, national TV coverage, standard-bearer for mid-majors, began to feel like a lost one. Sure they had plenty of good numbers to suggest a successful campaign, but they weren’t playing their best basketball in March. They had not seemed to play to win, get any better and they certainly didn’t look they were having any fun.

And then, when all of Davidson’s magic had seemed to fly out the window and fans seemed to watch and imagined how they would lose instead of believing how they could win, the Wildcats pulled an NIT miracle.

With the emerging freshman forward on the bench in street clothes and the All-American as good as out the door to the NBA by every sportswriter’s count, this was just going to be a formality. “Could be Steph’s last game,” says ESPN's Hubert Davis. “Probably will be,” says Doug Gottlieb at halftime.

The game itself was almost exciting. Then the refs got in the way. Four minutes into the second half and South Carolina is in the bonus and Davidson has three players with four fouls and two with three. Three minutes later and South Carolina has taken the lead and Davidson calls timeout.

What looked like fight and desire had turned into pain and frustration yet again. It’s bad enough to lose when everything is on the line. It’s even worse to lose when no one even seems to care.

But then, for 12 minutes, a handful of Davidson basketball players and coaches effectively saved the 2008-2009 season, restored pride in a program quickly sliding out of national view and pulled an NIT miracle.

Coming out of the timeout, Curry hit a three. Then Lovedale got to the line, Ben Allison with a monster defensive board, Barr got to the line for three shots, Steph Curry with a steal and Ben Allison fouled in transition. After a few Curry turnovers lets SC draw back, Curry finds Lovedale in the lane for a jumper, then he hits a three, then Archambault gets an offensive putback: 7-point-game. Five minutes to go and Davidson has responded to every Gamecock attack.

No one knows every single thought that went through the players and coaches minds last week. McKillop described his team as “angry, tense, irrational, disappointed … there were a lot of negative emotions.” And yet while South Carolina made their fifth NIT trip in seven seasons, Davidson had so much to lose last night.

For a program that had so long reflected the philosophy and the character of its head coach, it seemed that the Wildcats were not moving on to the next play, they weren’t acting as one five instead of five ones, they weren’t playing to win nor getting better nor having fun. And that seemed to be the greatest tragedy. Books, blogs, articles, TV segments had been dedicated to why Davidson did things the right way and why Bob McKillop’s program was one you could believe in.

Last year, on the NCAA stage, those players affirmed all of those things. But last night, in Columbia, S.C., they had to find them again for they had been lost.

And so Davidson moves on to St. Mary’s for ESPN match-made-in-heaven between Curry and Patty Mills. Davidson could very well lose out in California or they could survive and advance to the quarterfinals. Either way, the entire team knows that this season cannot and will not be a failure. Because on the road, and in a hostile March do-or-die environment, Davidson’s players fulfilled the expectations of Davidson’s program. They weren’t the expectations of CBS or ESPN or the USAToday or whoever else, but they were ones that long-time fans of the red and black have come to see year in and year out and they are what make every Davidson fan believe that as long as there is time on the clock, there is always hope.

And when all of the dust settles after the NCAA tournament’s opening weekend, there, on Monday, will be Davidson, still playing. Still dreaming. Still inspiring. Still believing.

Comments?

March 18, 2009

Lauren Biggers' View From Press Row:

It is Monday morning at the office. Yes, THAT Monday morning. (OK, maybe more like mid-morning, but that’s beside the point.)

The office is eerily quiet. Like spring-break quiet magnified by 100, and it’s more than possible that I’m the only one downstairs.

But before long, associate head coach Matt Matheny wanders in. Grabs the paper. Sits down. We chat a little. He reads the paper. Glances at the TV.

“How do you feel about the NIT?”

“Honestly, I’ve never been to the NIT. So I don’t know. How do you feel about it?”

About the situation, I feel like everyone else around the program. Sad, disappointed, sad, and angry, but mostly, sad.

After last year’s run, the expectations on this team were great. We know now, and some of us probably always, too great.

I believed until the Selection Show was over. Mourned. Moved On.

If the ‘Cats can do the same, what I feel about them is pretty good.

A few hours later, we get the draw: at South Carolina.

A few days later, we are at South Carolina. In the NIT.

Which is different from the NCAA Tournament in a lot of ways. There are no charter flights. No scheduled practice sessions. There is no pre-game press conference. No need. No one carrying a microphone reporter to reporter, waiting to be acknowledged by a moderator insisting that you identify yourself before asking a question. No one making you pour your can of soda into a cup with the right sponsor on it. (Which, come to think of, is nice actually.)

But there are similarities, too. Fans, buses and ticketing questions. Mascots and cheerleaders. Credentials and name cards.

And it’s still win or go home.

And Tuesday night, it was pretty clear pretty early these Wildcats were going to win. The game was misleadingly close in the first half, and when the Gamecocks attacked, the ‘Cats answered every time.

They surrendered the lead just once, but from around the 10-minute mark in the second half, it felt like a win. And you know what, it felt good.

In the shadow of last season, it’s tough to say if it felt as good. I think we’d all rather be dancing.

And yet, there is MAX doing a little dance after forcing a T.O. late in the game. There is the WL doing a little dance on the bench (to be fair, who doesn’t love Sir-Mix-A-Lot’s Jump On It).

There stands The One the Tournament will Miss, icing another game at the free throw line to the too predictable chants. Standing there, he looks so little like the one who inspired the baby-faced, curfew thoughts of old and much more like the one who routinely drops 30 to the crowd's delight. And when it's over, he still looks like the one who enjoys it.

These Wildcats look like they want to survive and advance.

And afterwards, I can’t help but think about Gonzaga. The energy, the emotion that cannot be matched here. Those magical moments in the locker room. In the post-game. In the hotel.

But there is Matt Matheny, on the phone in the tunnel, with a simple fist pump and head nod.

And yes, coach, I think I could like the NIT.

Comments?

March 17, 2009

Me, on writinggirl.blogspot.com:

Sometimes the most exciting thing about being here is realizing that I’m going to know so many of these people for the rest of my life.

March 15, 2009

More from Michael:

I’m feeling anxious and melancholy right now for a number of reasons. Davidson’s exclusion from the NCAA tournament is not one of them. This season, the Year After, started in earnest with a four-point loss on the home court of one of the best teams in the country, on national TV, in which Stephen had 44 points, after which my phone rang with a call from a friend in the basketball business, who started the conversation by saying: “Whoa.” We saw gyms full and records fall. We saw a win in the program’s old second home in the city of Charlotte. We saw a win in the world’s most famous arena in which the buzz was for one of ours. One man moved from Oregon to Davidson to watch his alma mater’s basketball team. A man and his son from Florida with no connection at all to the school bought season tickets and started flying up from Tampa for Saturday games. Two kids from Michigan drove all the way down, just for a game at Belk Arena in January, and then turned around and drove back. Bob Knight called Stephen Curry the best passer in the history of college basketball. Now comes the NIT. Davidson has been playing basketball for 101 years. Only 15 of those years have ended with national postseason play. More than half of those 15 berths have come under Bob McKillop. This is one of them. This is the fifth in a row. That’s never happened before. It is the continuation of the most consistently fine time to be a fan of Davidson College’s basketball team in at least the last 40 years and maybe ever.

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Feb. 28, 2009: Will

Will Bryan on pavingthemiddle.blogspot.com:

Davidson’s last two home games against UNC Greensboro and Georgia Southern weren’t supposed to be close. Both opponents are having off-years and are vastly undermanned.

But the two games represented important moments in the 2009 Wildcat basketball season. Davidson needed to bounce back. They needed to win in front of their home crowd. They needed something that everyone agreed that they seemed to have lost.

They won consecutive homes 70-49 and 99-56. Fans scoured stat sheets to find signs of life … Frank Ben Eze’s big scoring and rebounding numbers. Rossiter getting double figures today. Curry with 11-19 shooting today.

People seem hopeful. The basketball seems to be going in the net more now.

I’m excited again for other reasons.

On Wednesday, Davidson’s ticket director asked me where I thought everyone was. Attendance was lower than it had been and Belk Arena was quieter.

“I don’t know, and I don’t care,” I answered. “The people that want to be here are here.”

Davidson is in a good place now because the fans that are in the stands want to be there … not because they are scared of missing a Curry moment if they don’t come. These are fans that stay to the end because that’s what you came for, not individual acrobatics.

Davidson’s players want to be on the court as well. There isn’t fear of messing up and breaking a streak and falling out of at-large contention. It is just an intense desire to go steal that ball and dunk it home (Davidson made 15 steals today, and four of them came before Georgia Southern scored a basket, 5.5 minutes into the game).

Davidson is back to cheering for Can Civi and the celebration of his “35th birthday” and recognition for a career in which he averaged tenths of a point, and yet still drew the highest praise from the All-American for being the “hardest working player on the team” and “one of the main reasons that everyone is pushed to get better every day.”

That’s why I have hope. I hope now because this team isn’t innocent. They know what big-time expectations look and feel like. They know they could be bigger than “Davidson.” But after struggling with that for months, they turn around at the last moment and finally embrace everything that Davidson has given them.

They have been in the wilderness, but now are home. And that’s good, because March is just a few hours away.

Comments?

Feb. 28, 2009: Claire

From my journal:

The game was good — we’re finally back on track! David said, “All right boys, I want 100!” Nope, but still so nice to get a win at home. Lord, we badly needed that. And the whole time I was just very aware that it was my last game in Belk until SENIOR YEAR. WHAT? The comfort and contentedness I feel in that place — that back row of the endzone — is indescribable. Every time I’m there I know it is exactly where I am supposed to be.

It’s neat because the same ticket-checking guy has been there the last several games and so we’ve started talking to him more and he’s started reacting more to the game and it’s been cool to see that take place. And the pep band is wonderful — all of the songs they play are so evocative for me and it just puts me in the moment.

Towards the end of the game CIVI! came in — a guy in the bleachers had been holding up a sign that said “HAPPY BIRTHDAY CIVI” so someone in the row in front us passed along the message — “Guys, when Civi goes in we’re gonna sing happy birthday!” So we giggled and whispered and waited for our cue – probably from D Block? — and suddenly the entire arena burst our singing — as the boys were playing —

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU!
HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU!
HAPPY BIRTHDAY DEAR CIVI!
HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU!

It was so wonderful and completely epitomizes what this place is about, hype and ESPN be damned — we care about them. Who sings “Happy birthday” to their beloved bench warmer during a game? Seriously.

And then as soon as the game ended and they shook hands, McKillop grabbed the microphone — “Tonight is the last time that three of our players will be in front of their peers at Belk Arena …” and Andrew, Max, and Civi unclumped themselves from the clump in the middle of the court and grinned and waved while we screamed and McKillop introduced them. Those three, I realize now thinking back, have always been so happy. They are always smiling, and they play so hard all the time.

Comments?

Feb. 28, 2009: Michael

16point8.blogspot.com:

Almost a year ago by now, with Stephen and Jason and Thomas and the rest of the team, too, there was, I’ve come to think, a very rare convergence of ability and innocence.

The guys on last year’s team were good enough to do what they did. But they were also inexperienced enough and unburdened enough to not quite know what was on the other side.

That was the simple and unspoken and yet somehow tangible bond between the players and the coaches and the people who stopped to watch.

Here we are.

Here. We. Are.

I’m thinking now of those still photos, and maybe you are, too. That’s what everybody saw.

This year, of late in particular, it feels like maybe this team has gotten away from that, and certainly some of the fans have. Maybe it’s human nature. I don’t know.

Earlier this week, I flew though Detroit on the way to Pittsburgh, and when I was walking through the terminal I found myself thinking about a moment from Ford Field that Sunday last March.

During the timeout, with 16.8 seconds left, I was in Row 25 and I turned around and looked a row behind me and saw Tripp Cherry ’99, and he was on the phone, talking to his wife, Carrie ’01, who was back home in Charlotte studying for law school finals.

I couldn’t hear what he was saying, the place was too loud, but I could see the big, wet tears that had pooled in his eyes.

Many months later, over a supper at the Soda Shop, I asked Tripp about that moment. I ended up writing about this in the book.

Tripp said he and Carrie had talked about the play that was about to happen.

He said she told him just before the ball was put in play that she should probably let him go.

And Tripp said into the phone:

“No.

“Stay.”

The point here is this: There’s a game here at Belk in a minute. There’s a game Monday at Elon. There’s a game Saturday in Chattanooga, then maybe Sunday, then maybe Monday.

To ask March 2009 to be March 2008 is to forget what made March 2008 what it was.

The don’t miss this.

The here we are.

The No. Stay.

Comments?

Sacred

Me, on writinggirl.blogspot.com, Feb. 25, 2009:

It’s funny; even during the warm months of fall and spring, when basketball season is coming near or drawing to a close, and only handfuls of people occupy the gym, the pool, or the tennis courts, I can still hear it.

I push through the sticky slow doors of Baker Sports Complex and swipe my ID card that never works, harshly reminding me of that with a grating beep. I walk past the stairs that lead to the Wildcat Den (best soups, sandwiches, and cookies in Western North Carolina, best people in the world), and stare through the glass walls in front of me into the sparkling slick vacant basketball arena. I know if I walked inside it would be hushed with the eerie, stagnant tranquility of the off season.

But I still hear it ringing in my ears.

Silent echoes of cheers, chants, music blaring over the speakers, announcers and fans wildly putting sound and meaning into the otherwise quiet swish of a ball through a net.

It shivers in my bones and lands in a quiet smile on my face. This place is filled with memories of energy that has been, and thankfully, with frenzy and jubilation and possibility that will be. The silence makes sacred what will happen again…

Comments?

Feb. 25, 2009

16point8.blogspot.com:

Frank is showing some stuff. It’s fun watching him come along. Liked that Max-led 10-second call. Nice, balanced, cool-headed game from Stephen. I’d rather have Will slash and miss than not slash at all. No sense losing sleep over missed jumpers. They’re either going to go in or they’re not. In any event, a week and a half away from the SCT, and 23 wins already and 16-2 in the league. That is not bad. That is good. The story continues.

Comments?

Feb. 19, 2009 (again)

My journal:

Nathan was still in town and had gotten a bleacher ticket, Hawaiian shirt and red crocs and all. During the second half, I caught his eye during the fight song, and we were losing, probably would lose, did lose — but he was still clapping and chanting and singing as loud as he would have been in the endzone, and he nodded at me as we raised our fists, a very strong nod, almost approval, like “this is right. This is what we are supposed to be doing. THIS.” Win or lose, doesn't freaking matter — always, always sing. That still mattered to him from up in the bleachers, from nearly a year past graduation — that still mattered to him. Always sing. It made me feel that really deep, and part of me felt like a torch had been passed, but more than that it made me realize the history of this place and the tradition we have helped maintain—because people come and go and cycle through but there are always people who taught you first, before you taught anyone else, always people who showed you what Davidson basketball was about before you came into your own … Before anyone started associating me with Davidson basketball in whatever capacity, fan/writer/whatever, students who were my friends and students I didn't know showed me what it meant and why it was important — and they let me come into my own by making it so easy to become a part of this fanbase. I BELONG there, and the reason I belong there is because of the people who first made Davidson basketball special, sacred, for me— the ones who have left — and I feel like somehow, they are still at every single game with me. Joe. Nathan. Pierce. JB. Rachel and Harper. Will Bryan. Andrew Ruth.

Comments?

Feb. 14, 2009

My journal:

… We still weren’t playing our best and we were only up by 5. 9 minutes left. And Stephen Curry drove to the basket. And he fell to the ground out of bounds, rolling over and over and covering his face with his hands.

No. Nonononononono NO.

This does not happen. Stephen Curry always gets up.

Everyone gasped and moaned and the effing camera just stayed on him, stayed on OUR BOY, with tears in his eyes from the pain. He was down for several minutes and they KEPT SHOWING THE FRICKING REPLAY OF HOW HE FELL IN SLOW MOTION OVER AND OVER!! Everyone had immediately pulled out their cell phones as they kept announcing “National POY candidate, leading scorer Steph Curry is injured—” (SHUT THE HELL UP, ANNOUNCERS!) and I just felt so scared and confused. Like the thing we’ve been dreading has finally happened—but NO, it can’t happen! And Dad was saying how he’d miss at least a week and AHHHHH —

I have to say, though with all my heart I do not want Steph missing ANY games, the boys stepped up BIG without him. We won by 15. And they kept showing Steph sitting on the bench and most of the time he looked very stoic but at one point he was actually smiling and laughing and David called out “That’s our boy!”

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Feb. 5, 2009

Me on writinggirl.blogspot.com:

You know you go to Davidson College when the star basketball player, most famous person in town, who gets over 100,000 YouTube views in 48 hours, switches biology lab sections so he won’t miss his normal one when he has an away game tomorrow.

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Feb. 3, 2009

Kruse:

The Elite Eight. Going for win No. 20 with nine regular-season games left on the schedule. Dick Vitale coming to town. The most beloved college basketball player in America -- a student at Davidson College. A decade ago, in my reporting for the old book, I had sort of a stock question for the men who played for Davidson in the glory days in the ‘60s and those who tried to keep them up or get them back.

Can it happen again?

Some people thought yes.

More people thought no.

These interviews happened in 1998 and 1999. It’s interesting, given what’s happened since, especially these last few years, to re-read their words now.

Charlie Marcon ’65, Dec. 18, 1998, Bethlehem, Pa.: “It’s a delusion. I think it’s very naïve to think Davidson could ever do it again.”

Danny Carrell ’63, Oct. 15, 1998, Richmond, Va.: “Davidson can never do it again.”

Tom Franz ’84, Oct. 15, 1998, Richmond, Va.: “Absolutely not. It’ll never happen. It would be an absolute stroke of luck for it to happen. I just don’t think Davidson is going to get the kind of kids necessary to maintain that caliber. You might get one – but not enough. And that’s okay.”

Bill Jarman ’63, November 1998, Gastonia: “I don’t think so. Because now the emphasis on basketball is a total commitment – and the academics at Davidson aren’t going to allow that.”

Bill Beermann ’64, Feb. 17, 1999, on the phone from Jacksonville, Fla.: “I don’t think they can get the kind of players the bigger schools can get – guys who think they can be NBA players. Lefty was in an era when he could find these guys and recruit these guys. He was way ahead of a lot of other coaches in recruiting. That just doesn’t happen today. I don’t think it’s possible for a school of Davidson’s size to appeal to enough of those high-quality players.”

Davis Liles ’70, Nov. 16, 1998, Charlotte: “Now I think kids look at where they can go to get the most exposure and sign a big contract in the NBA two years later. That kid’s not coming to Davidson.”

Pepper Bego ’86, Feb. 10, 1999, Charlotte: “What hurts Davidson is its conference. Kids nowadays want to get exposure. The top 50 high school kids want the short stop to the NBA. And the academics, they’re uncompromising – at Davidson, you’ve got unrelenting academic pressures.”

Terry Holland, Oct. 29, 1998, Charlottesville, Va.: “It’s driven by the conferences today. TV is the whole game. That may not be true in two years, six years, 20 years from now. But Davidson has no control over that.”

Jerry Kroll ‘70, April 15, 1999, on the phone from Houston: “The game has moved on. I certainly think it’s possible – but highly unlikely.”

Ace Tanner ’87, Jan. 19, 1999, Charlotte: “I think the scene of college basketball has changed too much. Revenue generation has become the primary motivation. Big-time programs – their coaches are getting a million dollars from Nike and half a million from merchandising. It’s very hard to compete with that for a small liberal arts school like Davidson.”

Dick Snyder ’66, Nov. 15, 1998, Paradise Valley, Ariz.: “Never say never. The thing about basketball is, it’s still conceivable because you only need a couple of guys with a good supporting cast. I think it’s still possible. But I think it’s much harder than it used to be.”

Tim Bowker ’80, Dec. 15, 1998, Delran, N.J.: “I think they could get in the rankings every once in a while. That’s possible. But to expect that every year is unfair. You’re just not playing from the same gene pool. If Davidson is worried about maintaining its academic standards – and I think it should be – it should be very satisfied with having a competitive program.”

Mike Dickens ’69, October 1998, Bethesda, Md.: “You can build a program with one great player a year. But the thing that probably makes it difficult today is the TV contract is so critical. Not being a member of a conference with a TV package is a major drawback. Kids today want to play in a conference that gets a lot of publicity. … But top 64 year in and year out can be done. And every two, three or four years, when the stars are aligned right, you could win a game or two. I don’t see why Davidson couldn’t get to the Sweet 16. The goal should be to be in the tournament every year.”

John Gerdy ’79, Dec. 18, 1998, Conestoga, Pa.: “The basketball program is right where it needs to be. Challenge for the Southern Conference championship every year, win 20 games, go to the NCAAs every few years – that’s perfect.”

Wayne Huckel ’69, Nov. 5, 1998, Charlotte: “It depends on McKillop’s ability to get one or two players who can make the program. He could do it. But I think it’s unlikely. That’s not a knock. It’s just a fact of life.”

Doug Cook ’70, Dec. 16, 1998, Montclair, N.J.: “You don’t need a lot of basketball players to have a really good program. You need one or two great players and a supporting cast.”

Todd Haynes ’81, Feb. 18, on the phone from Bloomington, Ill.: “I think it can get back into the top 25. With basketball, if you get one or two really good players to come in, I can see them getting into the top 25. Coach McKillop has come close. He’s been maybe just one franchise player away from being there.”

Tony Orsbon ’69, Nov. 12, 1998, Charlotte: “What Bob McKillop needs most is that one guy who is an All-American. This team that Davidson has right now could go fairly deep into the NCAAs if they had what they don’t have right now – that one All-American. Davidson can get him. It’s possible. But it would take some extraordinary effort.”

Larry Horowitz ’75, November 1998, Charlotte: “It only takes one player.”

Pinky Hatcher ’68, October 1998, Atlanta: “It’s a great dream. You just need one kid.”

Comments?

Jan. 31, 2009

Tim Cowie on DavidsonWildcats.com:

I am not a writer.

Unlike Biggers and Kruse, who somehow make words flow like water rolling over stones in a quiet forest stream on a fall day, I write with the prose of a hot, humid August afternoon.

What I know is what I see. This week, my eyes had the privilege to see behind the scenes of our men’s basketball program.

There is no ordinary week in a college basketball season.

Unless you consider “ordinary” being – class, practice, play, class, practice, fly, play, class, practice, fly, play and practice again, only to start another week. If that’s ordinary, so be it, but what I can tell you, there is nothing “ordinary” about our men’s team, the staff, and the journey that they lead.

What tidbit of information can I give you about their journey? What inside scoop is there to be had? What really goes on behind the scenes that make our team so special and different than the rest? Why do we win 41 consecutive SoCon games, have a record of 18-3 and are the nation’s basketball darlings?

It’s simple really. In the minds of the players and coaching staff, we are simply trying to win the next basketball game. Practice prior to the Samford departure is as it always is – focused on details.

Defense. I don’t know if Bob speaks the often said cliché –“defense wins championships,” but it’s inherent in what they do. Ask Landry Kosmalski this week if he believes that and how that affects results. Details.

Flight. Don’t know if you realize this, but UT-Chattanooga and Samford are not easy road trips on any day. Certainly not easy on a Wednesday and a Saturday of the same week. A bus trip twice in one week, let alone a commercial flight would have meant long days and more importantly, extended missed class time. A faithful alum made this week possible. Two charter flights, well-rested team, two wins.

Jealous? I understood the question. I understood why it was mentioned.

What I didn’t see is extravagance.

I saw take-out from the Soda Shop, normal pre-game meals, vans to the airport driven by staff, a plane that was a far cry from the luxury private jets we hear auto and bank execs take for weekend jaunts, a bus with missing overhead storage doors (albeit a driver that just graduated from NASCAR school), post game showers in another building and pizza while on the bus going back to the airport.

I mention this not to make you think the team isn’t grateful. Important – extremely. Extravagant – hardly. Thankful – most certainly. Jealous – are you crazy?

The “Shot.” All of us had expectations of how the Samford game should play out. We just witnessed in one fashion or another a great road win over a team that all of us fear (all meaning – everyone but the team), on their home court, 9,000 plus fans, with of course, the exclamation point for the night being the “Shot.”

Samford, on the other hand, is another game and for the team, another milepost on the season’s highway. There are no thoughts of the journey traveled. They are focused on the next milepost. They don’t look into the dark distance, straining to see what can’t be seen. There are no forks in the road, only the next milepost.

Trust. Oh, we all know Trust, Care, Commitment by now. I saw trust in other forms this weekend. The trust that Bob has within his staff. Today, Coach Fox confidently broke down the scouting report.

I will say, that while sitting in a sold out Hanna arena, this school, nestled quietly in a valley at the tail of the Appalachians, searched for something within to make the “Magic City” proud. As the game unfolded, I sense an extreme case of deja vous, reminded of Fox’s pearls of wisdom.

Trust. The team trusts the staff to guide them through good games and bad. Outside of a few dressed in Davidson red, 5,200 white clad fans don’t understand what “trust” means to our
players and our program. To look in our player’s eyes, you don’t see fear. Was today a banner day? No, far from it. Did we shoot well, execute offensively, jump in the path of the cutter, for that matter, heed the words of Coach Fox? No.

As fans finished rolling their remotes searching for SportsSouth, fought with Teamline to hear John Kilgo (anxiously waiting to see how long it took to hear about dogs and a balancing bowl lady) or furiously typing 26 pages on the message board, others found ways to worry about an impending loss.

Yes, there were some “home run” passes, defensive lapses, mistimed shots, and a bad foul or two. Never, was their fear or doubt from those that allowed me to join them on this journey. A quiet confidence, gained from hours of attention to detail. A trust that can’t be imposed, purchased or transferred, but gained only through total commitment. A commitment that started 20 years ago.

So while others were wringing their hands, writing thread upon thread or screaming at their computer or TV about why Steve passed the ball behind his back, Steph made the "home run" pass or Andrew didn’t finish a power move, I sat quietly in the stands. I sensed with the rest of the team, the confidence that Andrew would get the next rebound or Steve would quietly slip from the high post to deliver two points off of a perfectly delivered “single” by Steph. I sat there confidently expecting Bryant to make two free throws. Feel free to write about 50 percent free throw shooting statistics, but with this team it wasn’t Bryant at the line, it was his entire team. For that matter, it wasn’t Steph that made the “Shot” earlier in the week; it was the defensive stop, the Andrew rebound and Bryant running out on the break. Details.

We can talk about the five security guards on the bus to help the guys get from the locker room, the throngs of waiting children and the adults that pretended that they were there only for their children, but ultimately it was just about another milepost.

The plane lands, the vans fill, and “Killer” is off to Shady Acres. The quiet drive back to campus leads one to think only of the next milepost to be reached on Monday. There is no straining into the darkness. Leave it to others to think of the Coliseum up the road in the “Gate City” or how to “black out” an arena for the likes of Vitale and Patrick.

I am confident that this team moves forward, not trying to live with Elite 8 expectations or how to replace the likes of Thomas, Boris and Jason.

They move forward knowing they were better than they were at the beginning of January, confident that with hard work and commitment, they will be better at the beginning of March.

They move forward with only one milepost in their midst.

Comments?

Jan. 28, 2009

Kruse:

Everybody comes to see Stephen make magic. And that’s fine. He’ll almost always oblige. But what all those people also end up seeing, and this goes for all the people in Charleston and all the people in Boone and all the people in Statesboro and now all the people in Chattanooga – what I’m saying is that what’s becoming harder and harder to miss is Davidson doing what Davidson does. Watch the games. Look at the box scores. I see Andrew. I see Max. I see Will. I see Ben. I see Brendan. I see Bryant. I see Steve. I see a team that right now, on Jan. 28, 2009, is better than its predecessor was on Jan. 28, 2008. I do. So. That’s 10-0. That’s 40 in a row. The story’s not over. The story continues.

Comments?

Ricky and Kyle

Kruse on 16.8:

Ricky Price and Kyle Mattson are students at Michigan State, which is in East Lansing, which is nowhere near Davidson, and yet the two of them drove all the way down in Ricky’s red Hyundai for Saturday night’s game at sold-out Belk.

Why?

This is something I’ve been interested in since last March. I know why I’m interested in Davidson basketball. I know why people like Cobb and Sink are interested. They went to Davidson and the place helped make them who they are. And I know why people like Meg and Chip are interested. They didn’t go to Davidson but they live in Davidson and they know the people who make Davidson basketball go.

But why do Ricky and Kyle from Michigan watch Davidson games whenever they can on TV or the Internet?

Why did Ricky do a Google search to find DavidsonCats.com and then register and then start posting?

And why were the two of them in Davidson, on Saturday, early in the evening, sitting at a table in the Brickhouse with William and Sink and Sink’s wife and daughter? The two of them even were wearing matching black homemade screen-printed shirts that said DAVIDSON and had the cat head logo on the front and a CURRY and a 30 on the back.

Davidson seems different. That’s what Ricky said. Ever since March, when he watched the Gonzaga game, he’s followed the team. He stressed that last word. Team. At Michigan State, he said, it feels like the guys are there more to try to go pro as fast as they can.

And also Stephen.

Of course Stephen.

They like watching No. 30.

“There’s just something about him,” Ricky said.

The story of Ricky and Kyle I think says something important about what Davidson basketball is at this remarkable moment in its history. The program right now is big enough to draw them in but still small enough to take them in.

On Saturday at the Brickhouse before the game William bought the boys’ pizza. For the game Eddie donated a ticket, and Reed Jackson donated another, and they sat in Eddie’s seats, Section 103, Row C, Seats 5 and 6. Wells gave them some gas money. David Rorie gave them some more. Big John Harper the hot dog man at the Wildcat Den gave them nachos and Cokes.

After the game Sink took their homemade shirts down to Rossiter. Rossiter took them back to the locker room to Stephen. Stephen signed them in silver Sharpie. Later, back at the Brickhouse, Ricky and Kyle showed them off.

To Ricky

God Bless

Stephen Curry

To Kyle

God Bless

Stephen Curry

They stood in the lobby and told me how much fun they had had and how awesome it was to watch Stephen have 23 at the half and how it was a smaller but louder crowd than at Michigan State and how much they liked Sweet Caroline. They said it seemed like everybody knew each other. They said they were shocked at how many people seemed to know them.

When I was talking to them, and I swear I wasn’t in on this, Sink and Eddie were out in the parking lot up to no good. Which is why when Ricky and Kyle got back in their little red Hyundai and drove all the way back to East Lansing, all hopped up on Mountain Dew and 5-hour energy shots, they did it with a brand-new Davidson license plate bolted to the front of that car.

Comments?

Jan. 24, 2009

Kruse: Left Greater Tampa so early this morning the clerk at the 7-Eleven told me to have a nice night.

(Also) Jan. 18, 2009

Claire:

Happiest moment? It isn’t possible to name just one. It never is, but this year seems especially … deep and full. Davidson vs. UNCG/all home games/winning SoCon/beating Gonzaga/beating Georgetown (this might be the top. Watching it happen, “Davidson back from the dead” – screaming my head off with Elizabeth on the phone, and the unparalleled frenzy of BLISS because it was the impossible come true.)/beating Wisconsin (but this, this was so EASY and joyful and triumphant and uh, I WAS THERE)/the Kansas game (because really? REALLY?).

Comments?

Jan. 14, 2009: Back home

Me:

Games are so much fun. I feel old at them now, being a junior and all, with only one class above me. It’s so strange that the freshmen never knew Jason or Thomas or Boris. And they didn’t know Steph when he wasn’t famous. I love standing with my group that has re-worked and re-formed itself, always a bit fluid even (especially?) three years on.

Comments?

Jan. 5, 2009

Kruse, traveling:

Yesterday early on my drive back from Davidson, on the radio somewhere between Columbia and I-95, I happened upon Larry Smith talking on a talk show about his book of six-word memoirs.

Like this one from Elizabeth Gilbert: “Me see world! Me write stories!”

Or this one from Dave Eggers: “Fifteen years since last professional haircut.”

All goes back to the best six-word story ever written. Comes from Hemingway. “For sale: baby shoes, never worn.”

So … clearly … in the car … 585 miles … driving from up there to down here … six-word stories about Davidson basketball!

I’ll start.

“McKillop: got somewhere by staying put.”

“Overlooked. Too small. I am here.”

“Wins are nice. Success is better.”

“Nine hours from Tampa. Can’t stop.”

“Who’d have thought? The story continues.”

Okay.

Your turn.

Comments?