Hoopaholic’s Gazette: B-Ball Flicks Addendum

Basketball

In the aftermath of my previous post, where I weigh in on basketball movies, I received the same recommendation by two hoopaholics whose taste I am inclined to pay attention to.

One is a national online/ conference network college basketball expert of consequence. Whom I also know from conversations to be a fellow cinephile.

The other a close pal since our teens, whose hoops props include one significant heads up. He was teaching at DuValle when a couple of 8th graders were balling there.

Darrell Griffith. Bobby Turner.

His pals were thus advised of the future before most.

Our viewing tastes differ, but his take on such is not without merit.

Commenting on my b-ball movie opinionation, both mentioned as worthy the ’77 Robbie Benson flick, “One on One.” Continue reading Hoopaholic’s Gazette: B-Ball Flicks Addendum →

Hoopaholic’s Gazette: B-Ball Flicks

Basketball

Are there any great basketball-centric movies?

How I came to this diversionay consideration shall be discussed in short order.

The sport does not lend itself to the great romanticism of the national pastime.

Baseball has “Field of Dreams,” “The Natural,” and “Bull Durham.” “Pride of the Yankees” perhaps.

All beloved. Worthy in one way or another.

As for my favorite sport, only two come to mind.

Neither is “Space Jam.” Continue reading Hoopaholic’s Gazette: B-Ball Flicks →

Crawford Chronicles: Shay Edition

Basketball,

He arrived at Louisville the same year as Denny Crum.

Planning to try out for the Cardinals’ freshman team. A New Yorker he was aware of but not fully immersed in local hoops culture.

Needing to ball, Rich Shay meandered over to Crawford Gym one afternoon before classes started for the semester.

The gym was empty but for one guy shooting around by himself. Soon enough, they started playing one on one. First half court, then full court.

Shay advises he held his own, could get to the hoop. But was dazzled by the fellow’s long range shooting.

“Louie Dampier.”

Welcome to the epicenter of hoops, my man.

Shay’s next significant encounter in Crawford was with the answer to the great Louisville hoops trivia question, who was Wes Unseld’s backup? Continue reading Crawford Chronicles: Shay Edition →

Seedy K’s Feckless Football/ Futbol Folderol

Football, Soccer

It is a tradition like many others.

Script Ohio.

12th Man.

Rocky Top.

“Another . . . Cards . . . First Down!”

My silly, borderline annoying propensity for alliteration.

And this. Early July. Eschewing the local, family owned bookstore just a few blocks walk away, I drive to the big box emporium in the burbs for the year’s Phil Steele College Football ‘zine.

The 376 page cheat sheet in hand, I then return to my screen and announce in these spaces that, yes, another collegiate football tradition of long standing, shall arrive each Wednesday of autumn.

Seedy K’s Peerless Pigskin Prognostications. Continue reading Seedy K’s Feckless Football/ Futbol Folderol →

Crawford Chronicles: Holden Edition

Basketball, ,

It was one of those glorious early days of spring that celebrate the Birthday of the World.

Warm, not hot. (Obviously before the Heat Dome/ Doom descended.)

Crystalline azure sky.

The trees along the tracks and Frankfort Avenue turning new green.

The kind of day when I drive by Blue Dog Bakery, my mind, ignoring an expanding waistline, implores “You sure you don’t want a croissant, or a small five grain loaf, or maybe one of those killer chocolate bouchons?”

Of course.

Lured by an available parking spot just ahead, my Subaru pulls over as if on its own.

There, sitting outside, staring off into the middle distance, luxuriating in the early afternoon, the table a splay of brunch delectables, former Cardinal guard Fred Holden, the set up guy during the Wes Unseld years.

An old pal, I greet him, and advise, “Hey I’m crafting a series to run during the summer. Ten years ago they tore down Crawford Gym . . . ”

Out of character the normally reticent Holden interrupts, blurting out, “I’ve got a story about Crawford.” Continue reading Crawford Chronicles: Holden Edition →

Hoopaholic’s Gazette: DM, PK, NCAA, WC & BS

Basketball, Football, Soccer

So be true to your school now/ Just like you would to your girl (or guy)

OK, maybe the wisdom of Brian Wilson doesn’t have much if anything to do with today’s entry. But I did hear it on the radio today, and the Bard of 60s teen culture was all that and fostered us to become fully Cali in my day. He was deceptively wise.

Plus I’ve been wanting to weigh in on the whole not-so-true-to-his-school Dusty May to Dallas deal.

At least as much as we know.

It’s been what, ten days or so since the word broke that the two year coach of the national champs was deep ditching Ann Arbor to mentor Cooper Flagg and the Dallas Mavericks.

No official word that I’ve seen from the NBA franchise.

Nor from May, though there he was at the Draft, his team grabbing one of his Wolverines with their first pick. Continue reading Hoopaholic’s Gazette: DM, PK, NCAA, WC & BS →

Remembering the G.O.A.T.

College Sports,

The story has been shared.

So it shall be again.

My personal experience underscoring why recently departed former U of L SID Kenny Klein was unequivocally the best ever to do what he did.

It was early March of ’99. The year before, U of L had missed the NCAA tourney because of a 12-20 campaign. Despite an underwhelming 19-10 record including a loss to Charlotte in the C-USA tourney final, the Cardinals got an at large bid to return to the Dance, and were headed to Orlando to face Creighton.

While still practicing law, I was also covering sports for LEO (which was still robust and mattered as a weekly alternative paper). The papers owners, seriously connected Louisville Cardinal diehards Blanche Kitchen and John Yarmuth, were to send me to cover the game, if they could get me on as a member of the U of L contingent.

At the time, my day gig was prosecuting in Juvenile Court as a member of the Jefferson County Attorney staff.  We had a workroom behind the courtroom, with a phone to contact witnesses and police officers when necessary.

It was not for personal use. Only two people knew the number. The division chief. His assistant.

I was neither. Continue reading Remembering the G.O.A.T. →

Pat Kelsey & The Snub

Basketball, , ,

Sunrise/ Sunset/ Since the beginning it hasn’t changed yet/ People fly high begin to lose sight/ You can’t see very clearly when you’re in flight — “On Your Way Down” Allen Toussaint

To be honest I didn’t pay much attention initially when Pat Kelsey was first asked Monday morning about not being invited to attend the NBA Draft.

He was diplomatic, commenting how Mikel Brown Jr. only had so many invites, etc, etc.

Then he said this, and my ears perked up.

“Although he was only here for one year, that young man is going to be celebrated and remembered and revered around here for a long, long time.”

I. Don’t. Think. So. Continue reading Pat Kelsey & The Snub →

Finally A Glimpse of the New Look Cardinals

Basketball,

Sunday was the summer solstice, longest day of the year.

Because of the severe meteorological conditions, it was also a Marc Weinberg kind of nighttime. The hyperventilating TV weather junkie surely set a PR for screen time, tracking tornado warnings, wind rotations, dust signatures, and admonitions for viewers to “get to your safe place NOW.”

The dude was in heaven.*

*Which peripheral mention has nothing to do with U of L hoops; I just get such an addictive kick when he’s on a roll.

Anyway, the morning after, a day a smidge shorter, arrived with a softball sized raindrop deluge that soon abated.

And then the treat. A first hint of what’s ahead. A hoopaholic’s heart was full.

Pat Kelsey and some of his/our still mysterious team were having a presser.* Continue reading Finally A Glimpse of the New Look Cardinals →

Crawford Chronicles: Scooter Edition

Basketball, ,

Second in a series of remembrances by former Cardinals about iconic Crawford Gym.

If not nearly as magnificent as those dimes he fed Bobby Turner through traffic as a high profile, eerily impassive freshman, it was still “Assist Scooter McCray.”

I was on my way out to chat him up and had misremembered the exact location of his La-Z-Boy store on Hurstbourne Parkway.

“Sorry,” I apologized upon arrival after he guided me in over my cell, “just an old man with a bad memory and aches and pains.”

“Tell me about it,” he responded pointing to his legs, “I have to wear compression socks.”

“It’s the tenth anniversary of the summer they tore down Crawford, just wondering what you remember about practice and those summer nights?”

“There were no ticky tack fouls.

“The games were very competitive. We all just wanted to win. You were really pushed if you wanted to keep playing and not sit out. Really quality players.”

Remember this is a fellow who grew up competing in the City. For the Trio Crusaders in the Bronx. For the famous Riverside Church team. Summers in the Rucker.

“Those crowds in the summer meant a lot. You were really pushed to be better. It was a continuation of my New York experience.” Continue reading Crawford Chronicles: Scooter Edition →