It's been awhile.

On Monday night, I (a fresh alumna, stepping on unsteady feet -- hence the "it's been awhile," at least from my side) remembered something.

.

I watched the new boys -- Charlotte, Charlotte, Sewickley PA -- ball with the ones I know by heart, Montreal, Montreal, Charlotte, Davidson, Nigeria, Nigeria, Jacksonville, with Barrington IL watching close from the sidelines. I watched them play and thought about all they've been through, the moments, choices, shots missed and made. High school, NCAA, NBA, Europe. I saw different teams slammed together into one. I saw the joy and struggle from the past pushing forward into the future. I felt what this team has been for me, a vessel for community spirit and support.

.

I watched them play pick up where I always watch them (not cozy coldwinter but muggy solstice), and felt myself pushed forward a little, too; the invisible tassel on my invisible cap still dangles unevenly on that new side. Who am I? Atlanta, Charlotte, ________?

.

Maybe that won't get answered for a good, annoyingly long while. But sitting there listening to the familiar squeaks of skidded rubber on polished wood, I realized that we all came here because somewhere down our roads, this place struck us deep and gave us tales to tell. We repeat stories, create stories, await stories. That's how all this keeps moving. That's how new chapters are written.

.

Daaaaaaaaaaav-idddddddddd-sonnnnnnn.

.

I remembered all that. And after these quiet two months, I'm trying to say --

.

This is important. It's going to happen. It's still moving. Stay tuned.

(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?

(More) March 17, 2009

Michael:

This was a difficult game. Quick turn. On the road. The NIT and not the NCAA. It was made more difficult by the officials’ apparent decision to call a foul on what seemed like just about every touch in the first part of the second half. Max and Steve with four fouls before the first media timeout? Seriously not ideal.

Davidson has a reputation for being very very physical. I don’t think I’m revealing any great secret by saying that. They have that reputation because they’ve earned it. There’s a difference between being big and being physical. Duggar Baucom told me that last summer in my reporting for the book. The guys who play for Davidson, he said, almost every one of them, almost every year, are the latter. They play physical because they have to. Refs who for whatever reason decide to call an abnormally tight game typically mean not good things for Davidson.

And yet: 70-63.

A win like tonight’s is the kind of thing that makes a team like Davidson that plays on Davidson’s level a program. It’s not as important as beating Gonzaga, Georgetown and Wisconsin on CBS – obviously – but it’s still really important. It is.

To be a program like Davidson wants to be, and is, and to do that from where Davidson sits within the structure of the sport, you win your league in the regular season. You do that more often than not. In Davidson’s case, of course, at least over the better part of the last decade and a half, you do that far more often than not. You don’t beat teams from power conferences every time you play them but you do beat them some of the times you play them. You win, like, 18 games in down years. You don’t go to the NCAAs every year but you are in the running. You have a real chance every year.

And in the years where it doesn’t happen and you don’t get to the NCAAs?

You get invited to the NIT.

And you win there.

Comments?

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.

Comments?

March 14, 2009

An e-mail from William Robertson '75:

The arcane deconstruction of every possible thing that could happen with every bubble team is a perfect example of a mental exercise that I would never undertake but which I guess doesn’t do any harm. It seems silly to me, but everybody has to have something to do. The business with Stephen is probably mostly that – silly. I guess he has been important enough to the program that it is somewhat understandable, and the fact is that somebody as thoughtful as John Gerdy made intelligent remarks about why Steph might want to stay.

Steph and his family are smart enough, I’m confident, to figure this out without being influenced by outsiders. As you well know, some grownups do in fact become pretty silly when it comes to their sports heroes.

Comments?

March 13, 2009

An e-mail from Bro Krift '99:

Let the young man be a young man. Let him decide with his family (both blood and basketball family). It’s not our business. I’ve enjoyed what he’s given me as a fan so far, and I’ll let him do what he needs to do.

I’m proud of him.

March 11, 2009

An e-mail from Barry Dailey:

I’m a UConn grad and have lived in Davidson for 14 years. It took a lot of Davidson basketball to get me to replace my Huskies Hat for the Wildcat. It was Thomas Sander who finally coaxed me into Wildcat Country. Never saw a player who not only always seemed to be positioned so thoughtfully on the court – but at the right angle. Not only was his body where it was supposed to be, but his feet too. Textbook feet. Great high school coach + Bob I guess.

Anyway we went to Chattanooga. After Sunday’s game we were at the hospitality event at the Sheraton. Understand we are not insiders to the program. We keep our distance but remain captive to how artfully Bob runs things. So he comes up to our table, leans over and introduces himself to our 7-year-old girl who has a Wildcat tattoo on her cheek and a Wildcat basketball in her hands. “Hi Megan, I’m Bob McKillop.” (The guy was less than 2 hrs from a really tough loss.) His emotion was all over his face. He looked exhausted – but his class would not be denied. He stays a while and chats with my wife and I. … Strangers mind you.

When most coaches would be at the bar or hidden away in their hotel room … not this guy.

After Sunday’s game we again talked with our daughter about how there are lessons to be learned when you win and when you lose. How Steph embraced those C of C guys after the game … not with that half hug kids do … but a real, sincere embrace to kids that just beat Davidson – again. No pouting and no excuses. Good luck guys… great game. That’s how you lose. That’s how you live.

Yesterday our daughter was awarded the “school bear” for sportsmanship by her gym teacher… coincidence I suspect but who knows?

Comments?

March 8, 2009

writinggirl.blogspot.com:

Maybe, because it’s a sport and all, it shouldn’t hurt as much as it does.

I mean it’s kinda stupid, right?

Maybe, because it’s a sport – and a team and a school and a community – that embodies so much more than shoes squeaking down a wooden court, it is

absolutely

gut

wrenching.

Right now, I think we feel – I feel – like it throws so much out of sync, out of proportion if that makes sense. What does it do to the past? What does it do to the future? What do we do with this? What do they do with this? I feel pulled together by numbness yet shattered apart by uncertainty, frustration, confusion, sadness. Knotted and untied.

The bit of me, the smallest part of me that can see without feeling (or maybe feels the most in a way), thinks that this season needs to be over. I don’t quite know why (and the rest of me screams at that little bit, HOW THE HELL CAN YOU SAY THAT?!); something about past and present and future grinding together (over on top of too much) and pressure (lights/stats/crowdsurfing) and living up and expecting and not really smiling anymore. Worn down, worn out.

So rest.

Rest and come back.

I will.

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. 20, 2009

Kruse on collegehoopsjournal.com:

These are my thoughts.

That’s all they are.

I think last year’s team had two guards who could play with anybody. I think this year’s team has one. I think this year’s team asks Stephen to do a TON. I don’t think there’s any way around that. I think Stephen does more for his team than any other player in America. And I thought that before this week’s Stephen-less Citadel loss. I think he’s carried an enormous burden this year. I think it’s remarkable that he’s performed the way he’s performed and that he hasn’t gotten more worn down than he has. I think last year’s team had a post player in Thomas Sander who did all kinds of things that were invisible to most folks watching but made all of his teammates so much better. I think that kind of player is as rare as a player like Stephen is rare. I think last year’s team was backed by a fan base that was filled with such genuine hope but not necessarily debilitating expectation. I think it created an authentic experience. I think it’s an experience Davidson people will be talking about for a long, long time.

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. 16, 2009

Kruse:

We want him to be okay, and when I say we I mean us Davidson folks, and we want him to be okay not because of BracketBusters or scoring records or NCAA bids but just because we want him to be okay. For him. Not for us.

Right?

Right?

Comments?

Feb. 5, 2009 -- Gerdy

John Gerdy '79 on DavidsonCats.com:

The most fundamental principle of Davidson basketball … what sets it apart from just about all other Division I programs … is that you are a student who happens to play basketball. It’s about education first, basketball second. It’s what makes us unique. If you play basketball at Davidson and don't graduate, then, what’s the point?

That is why, despite the fact that he was the greatest basketball player in Davidson history, Mike Maloy’s jersey should not be in the rafters.

There are two distinct categories when considering Davidson’s greatest. The first is the greatest basketball players to play at Davidson (Maloy, Adrian, Snyder, Hetzel). And the second is Greatest Davidson Basketball Players (Snyder, Hetzel. Rucker). There is a difference.

Maloy’s accomplishments and the trials he endured in an unjust world of which Davidson was a part were unsurpassed. But if Davidson compromises this, the most fundamental principle of the Davidson basketball ideal, we will lose the very thing that makes us unique and so proud of what we have accomplished.

It’s going to be interesting … with Mike’s passing and if Steph leaves before finishing his degree … whether that dual set of pressures will lead to the policy being changed. I hope not. In short, it’s important that educational institutions make it clear, though their words, but more importantly, though their actions, that educational achievement is more important than athletic accomplishments.

That said, Mike Maloy deserves something different. Something more significant than a jersey hanging from the rafters. Something that puts his life and times at Davidson into context. His is a story that deserves telling, not simply a quick visual of a jersey in the rafters. It’s history. And he, and Davidson, played a part in it.

Comments?

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.

Comments?

Feb. 2, 2009 -- Lauren

On DavidsonWildcats.com:

I didn’t write this column after the last home game. (And I’m still surprised (thanks for reading!) how many people noticed.)

Sometimes the time gets away from me, and my thoughts are no longer … timely.

Sometimes I let other people write, or take submissions from pseudo-sports information staff members. (Thanks, Tim Cowie! Will B!)

And sometimes, I just can’t find any inspiration. (I know, I know. I’m getting needy.)

And so, I posed this question to a certain POY-Candidate/Sports Info Temp after the Furman game. How do you keep the energy up when you’re up by 20, 30... 35 on somebody? Do you ever just hit the court and think, um, yeah, this one is over? Before tipoff?

No, no, NO. You never think that, comes the horrified reply.

Luckily, I am far from indicative of the pulse of the team, but after spending a good part of Saturday afternoon shouting (kind words!) at my TV, I am a little less inclined to feel such. (COME ON LOBSTAH!!!! … YEEEEES!)

But last night, well, that was inspiring.

I’m not sure what exactly made the difference. Was it the pair of road games? Was it the near-scare at Samford? Was it the weather?

Whatever it was, there was a lot of energy in Belk Arena last night.

On the court, the players were feeding off it. And, as Western entered with a decidedly physical approach to their game plan, the Wildcats responded by making it rain indoors.

The WL, the youngest McKillop, WILL. Lots of threes. Lots of hands making claws. (!)

And that guy. Assuming this was in your scouting report, but if there’s someone you’d probably not wanna (elbow, er) anger, he’s, um, the one with the 30 on his back, because he will drop in 12 points in, say, 1:27? (I did math.)

It’s loud in here, no matter what the score. There’s chest-bumping. Table slapping. And there’s a guy in full-body purple spandex. (Think Spiderman in purple. I’m thinking the costumed White Lobstah vs. the purple wonder at halftime. But this is why I do stats, not promotions.)

And that mega-swat by Andrew LOVEdale before the break? That one nearly brought the house down, and has me (SO) excited for Saturday’s visit from Dickie V (OH, ARE YOU SERIOUS? THE BIG CAT, BAAAAAABY!)

The off-that-poor-guy’s-back inbounds play in the next period, from The Temp might be too much for the guy to handle … Is it Saturday yet?

And if the half-time margin of 49-31 isn’t enough, the ‘Cats open the second period with 12 straight courtesy of five different playas and roll to the 89-65 win in what was easily the most balanced offensive display I can recall.

With no use for his T-shirt, the purple guy surrenders it to Mrs. Curry and slinks off.

Uninspired.

Comments?

Feb. 1, 2009

16point8.blogspot.com:

Last Saturday night, the night the boys from Michigan visited the village, I also met Floyd Strand.

He’s Class of ‘71.

He’s an emergency room doctor.

He lives in Oregon.

And he told me at the Brickhouse, standing there in the noisy, crowded lobby, and practically parenthetically, that for the rest of the basketball season, well – he’s kind of … moved to Davidson.

WHAT?

But you know how the Brickhouse is after games. Too many people to talk to and too little time to do it. So I told Floyd that I wanted to chat with him some more, and he gave me his card, and I gave him a call a few days later.

Why?

He graduated 38 years ago.

He lives 2,820 miles away.

Why?

Here’s what he said:

“To be a part of this …”

Floyd was born and raised in Alaska. He played basketball in high school and he played it well enough to get letters from Lefty. He wasn’t offered a scholarship but he was invited to come to school and try out for the team. He ended up playing freshman ball, back when they had that, the same class as Steve Kirley, Duncan Postma and Billy Pierce.

He went to med school in Chapel Hill. He’s lived out in Salem, Ore., since 1977. For the longest time, he kept track of Davidson’s basketball scores in the form of teeny-tiny print in the back of the sports section of the Salem Statesman Journal, and that was about it, because that was basically all there was.

In the mid-‘90s, though, he started to pay a little more attention to the basketball team. The Internet started to kick up. He didn’t have to just look at the scores in his paper back home. Now he could read about the games.

Then Bobby Vagt ’69 became president of the college. Vagt was his hall counselor way back when. A little more interest.

Then his daughter decided to go to Davidson. Molly Strand, now Molly Strand Deis, is Class of ’02. Her roommate for three years? Kerrin McKillop. Even more interest.

Then his son decided to go to Davidson. Peter Strand is Class of ’05. Even more.

Floyd bought season tickets for the first time before last year. He has four seats, Section 103, Row E, Seats 5, 6, 7 and 8.

Then last March.

Detroit.

“One of the great experiences of my life,” he told me on the phone last week.

“I had to be there,” he said.

“I ran into people I hadn’t seen since I was a student,” he said.

“It was a religious experience,” he said.

This man from Oregon who for the next couple months is living in Davidson is perhaps a particularly eye-catching example of something I’ve been seeing and hearing about all season long.

It is in my mind the very coolest part of this quite cool moment in the ongoing Davidson basketball narrative.

The McKillops’ team, the Mathenys’ team, the Currys’ team – our team – it’s drawing back in alums who had lost touch, and for those who already had a bond it’s making that bond that much tighter, and it’s connecting them to this place, and to this idea, and to each other.

It isn’t just about basketball.

It’s not.

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?

Jan. 24, 2009

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