Madness in the Time of Corona

Our man at the beach has been holding out on us, something we realized when we saw his Selleckian visage behind Cherokee Parks during a rebroadcast of the 1992 East Regional Final. So we gave him an assignment. As always, he delivered.

March has long been a favorite month, and not just for the blanket of pollen that coats outdoor surfaces and plays havoc with people’s sinuses. The NCAA Tournament annually provides three weeks of compelling theater – upsets, great games, last-second shots, interesting characters, excuses to couch surf for entire days.

Fairbank P.I.

In my previous life as a sportswriter in Newport News, Va., I covered dozens of tournament games. I was reminded how fortunate I was over the weekend when, absent live games due to our current and coming misery, CBS wisely scratched the collective tournament itch and aired past NCAA games. On Saturday, the network showed the 1982 and ’83 championship games (no matter how many times I watch, it still boggles my mind that N.C. State beat Houston) and the 1992 East Region final between Duke and Kentucky.

Former comrade David Teel and I covered Duke-Kentucky. He sent a text message during the re-broadcast with a screenshot of a younger me on press row, behind the Duke bench, proving that I really was there. Given the talent, stakes and level of play, it’s the best game I personally witnessed in 33 years in the biz, and it’s in the discussion for best game ever. Unfortunately, I have few vivid memories of that day. I chalk it up to a small mental hard drive, time and distance, and a thousand other games and moments clogging my head. I needed a more efficient, weighted mental filing system, one that allowed me to retain Duke-Kentucky and to delete much of the Chuck Swenson era at William and Mary.

It was also a reminder of a time when newspapers had actual staffs and travel budgets. Long before I arrived and through the 1980s, ‘90s and even early 2000s, the Daily Press routinely sent reporters to multiple NCAA Tournament sites. In 1988, my former boss sent me to Lincoln, Neb., where N.C. State was the No. 3 seed. Yes, Raleigh is three hours from Newport News and no, we didn’t cover State regularly. But we considered ourselves an ACC paper, and conference and Wolfpack types were happy to grant us credentials. Different times. Anyway, N.C. State was upset in the first round, so I was stuck in Nebraska with no upcoming game of interest. I asked the boss what to do. He said, can you get to Hartford, Conn.? Number 13 seed Richmond had just upset defending champ Indiana and would face Georgia Tech. Pre-cellphone and Internet, I found a flight, arranged credentials with Richmond and CAA folks, found a hotel room in Hartford, flew out early the next morning and arrived that afternoon, scooted to the arena and cobbled together a couple of stories. The next day I watched Dick Tarrant’s Spiders upset a Georgia Tech team with future pros Dennis Scott, Brian Oliver, Tom Hammonds and Duane Ferrell to reach the Sweet 16.

Speaking of Richmond, my NCAA good fortune extends into history. I covered Richmond’s win against Syracuse in College Park, Md., in 1991, the first time a 15 seed beat a 2. Guard Curtis Blair scored 18 for the Spiders, and 6-5 grinder Terry Connolly had 14 points and seven rebounds against an Orange front line with Billy Owens, LeRon Ellis and Dave Johnson. I covered three of the first four 15 vs. 2 upsets. In 1997, I was in the building in Pittsburgh when Coppin State of the MEAC bounced No. 2 South Carolina. I was there to cover Old Dominion, which narrowly lost to New Mexico in the first round, and the Coppin game was a happy coincidence. Two years prior, I was in Albany, N.Y., and watched the No. 14 Monarchs outlast No. 3 Villanova 89-81 in three overtimes behind Petey Sessoms’ 35 points.

But the damnedest, sweetest, most compelling tournament appearance I saw was in 2001. Hampton University’s experience in Boise, Idaho was equal parts sporting event and cultural phenomenon. A contingent of 70-some people from a Historically Black College and University connected with and was embraced by a mostly lily-white population that didn’t know they existed one week earlier, in ways that are difficult to describe.

The Pirates, in just their sixth season as a Division I program, breezed through the MEAC and were the No. 15 seed in the West Region. Now, the eight-team sub-region was peculiar to begin with, as the NCAA sent Maryland (No. 3), Georgetown (No. 10), George Mason (No. 14), Georgia State (No. 11, coached by Lefty Driesell) and Hampton to Idaho, along with Iowa State, Wisconsin and Arkansas. Seedings even gave us a Maryland-George Mason first-round game 2,000 miles from their respective nearby campuses. Out-of-the-way as it was, Boise was a cool town that welcomed the tournament and everyone involved.

Iowa State-Hampton was the last game of the day. The crowd in Boise was already amped from the first three games – featuring upsets Georgetown over Arkansas and Georgia State over Wisconsin – that were decided by a total of six points. Hampton U.’s pep band, The Force, and its cheerleaders were an immediate jolt, with their funk, bounce and energy. As the Pirates went toe-to-toe with the Big 12 champs, the players, crowd and band all seemed to feed off each other. The last 30 minutes were an HU home game, only louder and at a bigger venue. When Jamaal Tinsley’s driving shot at the buzzer rolled off the rim and Hampton had hung on 58-57, the roar was deafening. Coach Steve Merfeld raced across the court in ecstasy and was picked up from behind and lifted in the air by David Johnson, arms and legs joyfully extended, in a scene that the NCAA still runs in tournament promos.



Over the next 36 hours, the Pirates were local celebrities. People approached them on the street to chat them up and tell them how much they enjoyed watching and hearing them. The local minor-league hockey team, the Idaho Steelheads, asked the pep band if it would perform at the next night’s home game. They didn’t have to ask twice. The Force rocked the arena, introducing funk to hockey fans and hockey to band members.

Steelheads coach John Olver told the Boise paper, “They really added to the atmosphere. I’m really glad they don’t play here every night, or the hockey game would become the second attraction.”
Hampton’s ride ended the next day against Georgetown, but again the crowd was all in with the Pirates and their band. No one who was there will forget.

Even I remember it.