I got a comment after yesterday's post about running up the score in one of the Divisional games played Sunday, and I added a response to my post about it later. Anyway, that got me to thinking about a basketball game I was involved in back in the day. A game where I was on the receiving end of a massive and thorough ass kicking. It's a pretty interesting story. Here is my recollection of the whole thing.
In February 1988 I was a 17 year old Junior at a school named after the Duke of Wellington (I'm not making any of this up). We fielded a basketball team for some reason. The problem with our basketball team is that we were terrible. We had 2 guys who could play (no offense to any of my old teammates if they are reading this, and a few of them might be), and one of them was my buddy David Kaucheck. David was never much of a shooter, but he could get in the lane and cause some havoc from time to time. As for me, I never professed to be a great player, as I had no interest in defense and rarely stepped into the lane unless it was devoid of defenders. I wasn't much of a passer either, although on fast breaks I would repeatedly surprise teammates with behind the back and between the legs passes (teammates tended to be so surprised I was passing the ball that most of the time turnovers would ensue). What I could do is shoot the ball. And when I was feeling it, it was almost impossible for me to miss. I was so on fire one game (admittedly against a horrible Christian school from the country) that I ended up with 34 points, a single game record that stood for about 7 or 8 years after I left. So, I hope everyone is getting the impression that our team had one guy who could make some things happen off drives and spin moves in the lane and one guy who could shoot. Other than that,...well, I'm sure lots of those guys have very successful careers and are productive members of society (me, I'm sitting here blogging about a basketball game that was played 22 years ago, so...).
Our record that season was something like 5 and 15. If I'd ever kept a yearbook I could look it up. Alas,... We beat really bad teams from really small religious schools. My favorite religious school was one where they didn't let the cheerleaders wear skirts. They made them wear sweatpants. And those of you who know me pretty well will not be surprised to learn that I enjoyed talking with these sweatpants wearing cheerleaders during games. I remember several prayer huddles these cheerleader groups would have after some of my more prurient comments to them (I always wondered if they were praying for me or for themselves in these situations). Anyway, we hadn't beaten a legitimate team all year. And when we did play a school with resources, a decent gym, some players, and a coach who had some clue about hoops strategy, we generally got killed. Killed. Well, the season was winding down and the state playoffs were coming up. Our coach, the awesome Jammin Jay Hammond (I remember his name, and that's amazing) went to wherever the draw was and after they seeded the best teams, the also-rans would be drawn out of some hat and their coach would put them on the bracket in hopes of avoiding the top teams in the first game. Or should I say that most coaches would employ this strategy. Not Jay Hammond. When he got to pick where on the bracket the old Wellington School would be placed, he chose a first round match up against a team that had been ranked #1 in the USA Today poll earlier in the season (again, I'm not making any of this up). A school that is now defunct, but back then was a hoops powerhouse, Father Wehrle. And that was a mistake. Although, Jay Hammond did say we'd be talking about the game the rest of our lives, and here I am 22 years later doing just that.
Let me give everyone a little background on Father Wehrle basketball in the mid to late 80's. They won 4 State titles between 1986 and 1990. They were a juggernaut. On the team we played in February 1988 Father Wehrle had a number of guys who could ball. One was a high Division 1 point guard. And another, one of my favorites ever, a longtime NBA forward, Sir Lawrence Funderburke (he played for the Kings for a number of years as a pivotal reserve). So, we were gonna get killed. Obviously. I'll get to that in a bit. In the hype leading up to the game, the Dispatch ran an article labelling the match up as David vs Goliath. I remember telling my friend Morgan Howie that the comparison was an insult to David. At least David had a slingshot and God on his side. The Wellington School had future doctors, scientists, bankers, attorneys, and one irrelevant blogger. Not exactly an accurate comparison.
The game was played out at some hick high school 45 minutes from Columbus that I'd never heard of. But they had a big gym. The biggest crowd we'd ever played in front of before this big tournament game was probably a few hundred. This gym sat several thousand. And Father Wehrle had a big following. The place was pretty full before tip off. I remember looking over at Wehrle during warm ups, and noticing the size advantage they had. It was considerable. Jammin Jay Hammond had a plan though. A plan that had no chance at succeeding, but a plan nonetheless. He decided we should come out and not contest the jump ball, simply set up in a 2-3 zone and hope that Wehrle settled on long jumpers all night. I don't think anyone in the crowd had ever seen an uncontested opening tip. I thought it was pretty funny myself. I also remember right before tipoff, Coach Hammond told me, "Light it up. Shoot it any time you get the ball in your hands." I was fine with that, as no coach ever needed to encourage me to shoot the ball, believe me.
Well, this is where the story gets a little amazing, at least for the first 4 minutes of the game. We did indeed play our 2-3 zone and Wehrle did indeed jack up long jumpers and missed a few. Wehrle started in straight man and you guessed it, covering me was none other than future NBA forward, Sir Lawrence Funderburke. For the first few minutes, we were actually winning the game. I hit a couple 3's, we got a lay up cherry picking, and I hit 2 free throws for a hanging on the rim technical on Wehrle. We were up 11-10. It was stunning. Then the Wehrle coach called a timeout. Then Wehrle came out and pressed us. On the first possession we had after the Wehrle timeout is when everything flipped, bad. Really bad. We broke their press and I had the ball deep on the left baseline. I was wide open. I shoot the ball and am sure it's going in. Then out of nowhere flies Funderburke, and he swats my 22 foot jumper. He swats my 22 foot jumper into about the 10th row. The crowd went crazy. I said "Damn Lawrence. Did you finally start to play?" He chuckled. Lawrence didn't say anything, but he cracked a smile. From that point, well, let me just say this: Wehrle ended the half on a 38-0 run. That's right, 38-0. They were up 48-11. The Wehrle coach did the classy thing and played the entire second half in a zone. The score ended up 103-48. When the players from the very end of our bench came in for some of the 4th quarter, Wehrle let them drive to the hoop and attempt free layups. Of course when I was in the game, they did no such thing. It didn't irritate me though. I wouldn't have taken their free layups anyway. When I was in there in garbage time, I did what I always did, jacked up 25 footers until they started to fall. And a few did fall. For the game I had 19. And I wanted 20 so badly. I remember we called a timeout with like 25 seconds left, specifically to set up a 3 for me from the right foul line extended (my most money spot on the floor, from years of practice on the driveway). I missed it though. No 20 point game for me. I feel like my life would have been entirely different if I'd been able to walk around the last 22 years saying "I got 20 off an NBA forward." Saying "I got 19 off an NBA forward" doesn't roll off the tongue quite the same way.
As I intimated above, Father Wehrle went on to win the State Title. Sir Lawrence went on to stardom in the Big Ten, and his millions with the Sacramento Kings. As for me? I never played in a competitive basketball game again. The Wellington School changed coaches for my Senior season. No more Jammin Jay Hammond. The new guy was a tool (I couldn't tell you his name to save my life). I had no interest in wasting time playing for a tool, without any reasonable chance at winning. If we had a decent team, I might have stuck it out. I didn't go to many of the team's games my Senior year. But I did venture to their State Tournament game. And they weren't playing Wehrle or any other powerhouse for that matter. They did manage to get beat badly though. And I distinctly remember sitting there with Cara, and as the clock was winding down on the game, this tool coach they'd hired didn't have the decency to let my friend Dave Kaucheck play out the final competitive basketball game of his life on the floor. I remember Dave sitting there with a towel over his head. I felt like shit. I really did. There are no happy endings...
There are a few other memorable games I may blog about in the future. One, when I was in Middle School, was against the School For The Deaf. And let me just say, it was difficult to trash talk them...
I saw where Ricky Gervais has been getting ripped for his performance as host of the Golden Globe awards. And from what I've seen about his performance, I have to wonder what the Golden Globe people expected from Gervais. Had they ever seen any of his work before? Making people uncomfortable is what he excels at. Personally, I find Gervais to be pretty funny. But, he's not all people's cup of tea. I guess I'm baffled as to why they would invite him to host, then watch as he does his typical brand of humor, then feign indignance over it. It's silly.
Also, TV Guide Channel was running some fashion wrap about the Golden Globes yesterday. I didn't watch much of it. But they did show a photo of Jennifer Garner and labelled her a "fashion winner." And I don't know a thing about fashion, but I agree with them wholeheartedly in this case.
Note: I was gonna put a picture up of Sir Lawrence playing for the Kings. The problem is that I didn't like any of the ones on Google Images. If you search a little though, you can find video of Sir Lawrence dunking on Shaq. I would put it up here, but have no idea how to link to video on this blog. I'm technologically challenged, as always...
Illegal fun
Under the sun
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