Terry Holland, in this morning’s piece by Ron Green Jr., which certainly is worth the read: “The burgeoning number of ACC basketball games on television had a tremendous impact on game attendance, particularly for Davidson with its small alumni base. The television exposure began to give every ACC team a recruiting edge over even the best Southern Conference teams, like Davidson. So what Bob McKillop has done in an even tougher environment is the greatest coaching 'resurrection' since Lefty did it in the 1960s.”
And a funny juxtaposition from Larry Brown: “There was nothing about that job that wasn’t appealing. It was just some things that happened that didn’t quite work out.”
One of those sentences is necessarily untrue.
Try again?
Showing posts with label lefty driesell. Show all posts
Showing posts with label lefty driesell. Show all posts
2.06.2010
1.23.2010
Lefty
On going to Maryland for $14,000 a year: “It was a five-year contract. I was making 12 at Davidson. He told me I’d be the highest-paid coach in the ACC.”
12.30.2009
Yesterday afternoon in Charlotte
Went to watch Jordan Downing at the Bojangles’ Coliseum, formerly Cricket Arena, formerly Independence Arena, formerly the (old) Charlotte Coliseum, the site of course of many great Davidson basketball moments back in the Lefty-led short-shorts days. Hopewell pulled away in the second quarter and won big. Thoughts on Jordan? He didn’t take too many shots -- just good ones. He hit a three in transition, an elbow jumper off the dribble, a contested layup on a break, a couple free throws. All good shots at good times. He’s no hog. The free throws came when he was fouled on a hoppy two-handed dunk try. On the other end he can be -- will be? -- an ace. He’s quick and long and seems to want to defend. I won’t call anybody the new Max, because that’s saying a heck of a lot and it’s not fair, but I’ll at least float the thought. The kid’ll fit right in.
11.26.2009
Thanksgiving over at Lefty’s Legacy
Blogging from Houston: ... maintaining the John Kilgo internet feed crackling in the background.
11.05.2009
Studying running
Bill Pierce ’71: But as he celebrates his 60th year of life, the 162-pound Pierce is 3 pounds lighter than he was in the late 1960s, when he was a playmaking guard on Davidson College teams that won three Southern Conference championships and were top 20 teams in two of those years.
10.14.2009
A long time ago
Art Chansky book excerpt:
Charlie Scott.
A week later, Scott scored 32 and hit the winning shot against Davidson, knocking his once-to-be coach Driesell out of the NCAA tournament for the second straight year and sending the Tar Heels to yet another Final Four.
Charlie Scott.
8.21.2009
The late Robert Novak
In his memoir via the Washington Times: “[When] Maryland hired Lefty away from Davidson, I knew that big-time basketball had come to Washington.”
3.23.2009
The Georgetown win
From the book:
And then came the tournament comebacks in March that made so many around the nation start watching. One fan said a timeout late in the game against Gonzaga had been what he considered a long-sought-after “moment of equilibrium.” It wasn’t a feeling of imminent victory. What it was, he said, was an overwhelming feeling of opportunity. The chance. We can win this. It was, for some alums, particularly for those who had been boys during the Lefty years of the 1960s, something like a reawakening of the possibility of national success. Two days after that, late in the second half of the comeback against Georgetown, one fan turned to his left and looked down his row in Raleigh and saw a white-haired alum with a single tear running down his cheek and then turned back to his young son and asked him to please watch this game close.
3.18.2009
One more thought
Wildcats coached by Lefty Driesell won five national postseason games. Tuesday night made six for Wildcats coached by Bob McKillop.
3.14.2009
Hang his jersey
A letter to the editor, in the Davidsonian last month, written by William E. Jackson ’57, a former political science professor who still lives in Davidson:
(Hat tip: Rob Hooker.)
On Feb. 5, The Charlotte Observer proclaimed in a front-page story in the sports section: “Davidson Great Dies.” It referred to the death in Austria last week of three-time basketball All-American Mike Maloy-heralded by Coach Lefty Driesell as “the best player [Davidson College] ever had.” He “was the most consistent player I ever had. He never had a bad game.”
Maloy led the Wildcats to back-to-back NCAA regional tournament finals in 1968 and 1969. He remains the school’s all-time leading rebounder; and seventh leading scorer (1661 points) with a 19 points per game average.
But today’s students would never know who Lefty was talking about if they looked for his retired jersey (# 15) hanging above Belk Arena, or checked the list of athletes in the college’s Hall of Fame. Mike Maloy was a sharp and joyful student from Bryant High School in Long Island City (Queens). Coach Terry Holland accurately remembered him as “one of the most enjoyable human beings that I have ever been around.”
Mike was in my course on "Southern Politics” -- that’s right -- at a time when the student body was overwhelmingly white males from southeastern states.
Despite the fact that he did not graduate from Davidson College, Lefty is absolutely right when he makes the case that Mike should be in the college’s Hall of Fame. It gives me “the blues” to read about Mike’s passing.
(Hat tip: Rob Hooker.)
2.25.2009
The Kresse story
Re the thread over at DavidsonCats.com wondering about the Larry Brown and John Kresse “myths” from Davidson basketball’s past:
I’d say most folks have heard more versions and more different versions of the uncomfortable Brown coming-and-going tale from 1969.
But the John Kresse deal? No great mystery there.
He took the job in the spring of ‘81.
He was the head basketball coach at Davidson College for six days.
Then he wasn’t. Just went back to Charleston.
C of C was an NAIA school at the time, and a good program at that level, having gone 25-5 the year before. Kresse knew about Davidson and its basketball program. He had been an assistant at St. John’s in the late ‘60s and those St. John’s teams played against Lefty’s Davidson teams, and lost to them, twice, in the NCAA tournament.
“So when Davidson courted me strongly,” Kresse told me back in ‘99, “my immediate impulse was to look to get to Division I as a head coach.”
Quickly, though, he regretted the decision, he said, because of the city he left behind and the players he left behind. Who knows if those were the only reasons? Those essentially were the reasons he gave to the Charleston Post & Courier, too, in a story that ran in ’99, C of C’s first season in the Southern Conference.
From that story: “The situation with Davidson certainly wasn’t pretty, an ugly glitch that I’ll always remember and feel badly about.”
“It was the most embarrassing time in my entire life,” he told me.
Here’s what else he told me with more specificity: “When I finally realized I needed to ask out of the Davidson contract, I was recruiting in Dayton, Ohio, for the Wildcats. I called Thom Cartmill from Dayton. I met him at the Charlotte airport. Cartmill was kind enough to allow me to return to the Port City.”
Kresse won an NAIA national championship two years later. Davidson, meanwhile, hired the late Bobby Hussey. Eight years later he was fired.
His replacement was Bob McKillop.
I’d say most folks have heard more versions and more different versions of the uncomfortable Brown coming-and-going tale from 1969.
But the John Kresse deal? No great mystery there.
He took the job in the spring of ‘81.
He was the head basketball coach at Davidson College for six days.
Then he wasn’t. Just went back to Charleston.
C of C was an NAIA school at the time, and a good program at that level, having gone 25-5 the year before. Kresse knew about Davidson and its basketball program. He had been an assistant at St. John’s in the late ‘60s and those St. John’s teams played against Lefty’s Davidson teams, and lost to them, twice, in the NCAA tournament.
“So when Davidson courted me strongly,” Kresse told me back in ‘99, “my immediate impulse was to look to get to Division I as a head coach.”
Quickly, though, he regretted the decision, he said, because of the city he left behind and the players he left behind. Who knows if those were the only reasons? Those essentially were the reasons he gave to the Charleston Post & Courier, too, in a story that ran in ’99, C of C’s first season in the Southern Conference.
From that story: “The situation with Davidson certainly wasn’t pretty, an ugly glitch that I’ll always remember and feel badly about.”
“It was the most embarrassing time in my entire life,” he told me.
Here’s what else he told me with more specificity: “When I finally realized I needed to ask out of the Davidson contract, I was recruiting in Dayton, Ohio, for the Wildcats. I called Thom Cartmill from Dayton. I met him at the Charlotte airport. Cartmill was kind enough to allow me to return to the Port City.”
Kresse won an NAIA national championship two years later. Davidson, meanwhile, hired the late Bobby Hussey. Eight years later he was fired.
His replacement was Bob McKillop.
2.09.2009
The Coffee Cup
Because this merits a response.
The Coffee Cup incident happened.
Here’s what Charlie Scott told me in November 1998 when we met for the old book in Atlanta:
In the fall of ’65, on a visit to Davidson with his coach from Laurinburg and his coach’s wife, Scott stopped in at the basketball office. Terry was there. Terry said Lefty was over at the Coffee Cup.
The Coffee Cup was where Jasper’s is now, on Depot Street, by the Davidson Inn. There was a counter in the middle of the restaurant, as I understand it, and whites sat on one side and blacks sat on the other.
“I knew this restaurant was segregated,” Scott told me back in ’98, “so I knew we were going to have problems.”
But as long as he and his coach and his coach’s wife didn’t order anything, and if they were sitting with Lefty, Scott thought at the time, maybe they could get away with it, and get out of there without any trouble.
According to Scott, though, his coach’s wife said to Lefty: “Man, those black-eyed peas look good.”
To which Lefty said: “Why don’t you order some?”
More from Scott: “So he called the owner’s wife over and she took the order. The owner came over shortly thereafter and said, ‘I’m sorry, Lefty, but my wife won’t serve n---ers on this side.’”
“That,” Scott said, “was the beginning of the end.
“I was all set, going to Davidson,” he said. “I wanted to sign early, but my coach wouldn’t let me, and after that he started taking me up to North Carolina and pushing me toward Carolina.”
In ’98, in Atlanta, Scott told me he didn’t think the deal at the Coffee Cup was Lefty’s fault.
But he also said this: “Coach Smith would not have been eating there. Lefty was eating there.”
Lefty’s response?
When we talked, in December ’98, also in Atlanta, he called it “the unfortunate incident downtown.”
“It was probably my fault for eating in there,” he said. “I never thought much about it. I guess I should have.”
The Coffee Cup incident happened.
Here’s what Charlie Scott told me in November 1998 when we met for the old book in Atlanta:
In the fall of ’65, on a visit to Davidson with his coach from Laurinburg and his coach’s wife, Scott stopped in at the basketball office. Terry was there. Terry said Lefty was over at the Coffee Cup.
The Coffee Cup was where Jasper’s is now, on Depot Street, by the Davidson Inn. There was a counter in the middle of the restaurant, as I understand it, and whites sat on one side and blacks sat on the other.
“I knew this restaurant was segregated,” Scott told me back in ’98, “so I knew we were going to have problems.”
But as long as he and his coach and his coach’s wife didn’t order anything, and if they were sitting with Lefty, Scott thought at the time, maybe they could get away with it, and get out of there without any trouble.
According to Scott, though, his coach’s wife said to Lefty: “Man, those black-eyed peas look good.”
To which Lefty said: “Why don’t you order some?”
More from Scott: “So he called the owner’s wife over and she took the order. The owner came over shortly thereafter and said, ‘I’m sorry, Lefty, but my wife won’t serve n---ers on this side.’”
“That,” Scott said, “was the beginning of the end.
“I was all set, going to Davidson,” he said. “I wanted to sign early, but my coach wouldn’t let me, and after that he started taking me up to North Carolina and pushing me toward Carolina.”
In ’98, in Atlanta, Scott told me he didn’t think the deal at the Coffee Cup was Lefty’s fault.
But he also said this: “Coach Smith would not have been eating there. Lefty was eating there.”
Lefty’s response?
When we talked, in December ’98, also in Atlanta, he called it “the unfortunate incident downtown.”
“It was probably my fault for eating in there,” he said. “I never thought much about it. I guess I should have.”
2.05.2009
Lefty on Maloy
This morning in the Observer’s story: “He would ruin practice, just blocking shots all over the place. And he was always smiling and laughing on the court. I said, ‘Mike, you got to get serious.’ He said, ‘Coach, I am serious.’”
2.04.2009
From the old book
Maloy, Cook and Kroll formed what was eventually dubbed the Holy Trinity of Davidson basketball -- a frontcourt that could match up with anybody in the country.
The 1966-67 freshman team remains the only undefeated basketball team in school history. The “Wildkittens” went 16-0. Under Terry Holland, still only two years removed from his playing days, the Davidson first-years that season beat seven ACC teams, averaging approximately 90 points and 50 rebounds a game.
In their debut, Maloy had 26 points and 21 rebounds, Cook had 23 points and 13 rebounds, and Jan Postma scored 24 points. Davidson’s rookies beat Wake Forest’s rookies 103-90. After beating Wake twice, South Carolina and Duke -- and many others -- the group closed its perfect season with an 88-80 victory against North Carolina State.
Maloy put up astounding numbers throughout his freshman season. He had 34 points and 25 rebounds Jan. 8 against The Citadel. After breaking his hand in a fall on campus, though, Maloy sat out the final five games.
But it hardly mattered.
Supporters of Davidson basketball had seen the future.
“I won’t say that this year’s team is the best I’ve ever had at Davidson,” Lefty told the Davidsonian in the fall of 1967. “But I will say it sure has the potential to be.”
Bob Dunham told a story decades later. During 1966 freshman orientation, he was in the same group with Maloy, and Chalmers Davidson, then the head of the library, made some reference to Chapel Hill, where they played, in his words, “real basketball.”
Maloy, Dunham said, just laughed.
“Mike knew what was coming.”
The 1966-67 freshman team remains the only undefeated basketball team in school history. The “Wildkittens” went 16-0. Under Terry Holland, still only two years removed from his playing days, the Davidson first-years that season beat seven ACC teams, averaging approximately 90 points and 50 rebounds a game.
In their debut, Maloy had 26 points and 21 rebounds, Cook had 23 points and 13 rebounds, and Jan Postma scored 24 points. Davidson’s rookies beat Wake Forest’s rookies 103-90. After beating Wake twice, South Carolina and Duke -- and many others -- the group closed its perfect season with an 88-80 victory against North Carolina State.
Maloy put up astounding numbers throughout his freshman season. He had 34 points and 25 rebounds Jan. 8 against The Citadel. After breaking his hand in a fall on campus, though, Maloy sat out the final five games.
But it hardly mattered.
Supporters of Davidson basketball had seen the future.
“I won’t say that this year’s team is the best I’ve ever had at Davidson,” Lefty told the Davidsonian in the fall of 1967. “But I will say it sure has the potential to be.”
Bob Dunham told a story decades later. During 1966 freshman orientation, he was in the same group with Maloy, and Chalmers Davidson, then the head of the library, made some reference to Chapel Hill, where they played, in his words, “real basketball.”
Maloy, Dunham said, just laughed.
“Mike knew what was coming.”
2.01.2009
‘Had to be there’
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.
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.
1.26.2009
First Maloy interview
On the phone from Vienna, on April 21, 1999, for the old book:
“I wanted to get out of New York. New York sucked back then. Drugs killed a lot of my friends. College and basketball were my way to get out of New York.”
“Lots of green. North Carolina weather.”
“Lefty had gotten a few people to take me out. I had a great time at this after-hours joint. So I was sick as a dog. I was barfing when the security guard came. Everyone else took off.”
“I had to write a latter to the school to apologize -- the usual bullshit. But I was not the first or the last to do that at Davidson. It was just some young guys hanging out. It was actually good. It forced me to really choose to go there because I had to write that letter.”
“It was a stupid thing to do. But when you’ve got to barf you’ve got to barf. I had a good time.”
“I read all the time. Still do.”
“My French was pretty good at that time. I want to learn Italian now. That’s next on my list. I know German and English now and some French still.”
On Charlie Scott: “I thought Charlie was going to be there. I assumed we were both going to be there. We hooked up down there for our visit.” When did he find out Charlie wasn’t coming? “When I got there. But it didn’t influence my decision. The first day I got there, I said, ‘This is where I’d like to go.’”
“Charlie Scott was one of the best players who ever played. Carolina was very good. They were very deep and we weren’t that deep. Lefty played seven guys. Every coach has his own philosophy. Carolina could get every player they wanted.”
On Dave Moser: “Dave was a great guard. He never made any mistakes at all. People underestimated him.”
On Wayne Huckel: “Wayne was the toughest. Lefty made him use hip pads. He was just one big bruise. When you played with Wayne you really felt bad if you didn’t dive for a ball on the floor. Because Wayne would bite somebody’s leg off for it.”
“Lefty wasn’t comfortable playing with everybody. You’ve got to stay with it. If we make a couple more shots against Carolina, Lefty’s coach of the year. Shit, man, we were a great team, and we lost to a great team.”
“Lefty’s a great guy. He was the hardest worker. He could move his ears. He doesn’t lie to you. I liked him.”
On the SigmaChi situation: “We did that just to make a thing.”
“I spent a lot of time across the tracks. That was necessary. You’ve got to have some kind of balance. That’s where I could just relax, not have to look over my shoulder. That was necessary at Davidson, a very, very, very white Southern atmosphere.”
“I had some very good friends there. But not everyone was my friend there. Where are the black folks? Across the tracks. Literally. I had to go over and get some soul food.”
The people at Davidson? “A little bit of everything. They were generally tolerant and friendly. I thought they did pretty well, actually, for the ‘60s. My roommate accepted me right away. There were some great people there. Some embraced the idea.”
“But in 1999 even you still have people there that are going to be racist. In 2099 too. Racism is a fact. You accept it. There was no overt racism. People who didn’t like me stayed away from me.”
Any incidents? “Every day, man.”
“When you’re in junior high and high school in New York, you read about things, but you’re not confronting them. One of the deep reasons I wanted to go to Davidson was because there weren’t many blacks. You have to seek confrontation in situations like that.”
“The thing that was really disappointing to me was you realize it’s not just the rednecks that are racist. Looking around, some of the most racist people in the world are in the North. I still think Boston is one of the most racist cities in America.”
“People you consider to be intelligent have that blind spot. And that’s disappointing because we’re talking about America, the richest country in the world, and they’re not doing anything about it. That’s one of the reasons I’m over here.”
“I wanted to get out of New York. New York sucked back then. Drugs killed a lot of my friends. College and basketball were my way to get out of New York.”
“Lots of green. North Carolina weather.”
“Lefty had gotten a few people to take me out. I had a great time at this after-hours joint. So I was sick as a dog. I was barfing when the security guard came. Everyone else took off.”
“I had to write a latter to the school to apologize -- the usual bullshit. But I was not the first or the last to do that at Davidson. It was just some young guys hanging out. It was actually good. It forced me to really choose to go there because I had to write that letter.”
“It was a stupid thing to do. But when you’ve got to barf you’ve got to barf. I had a good time.”
“I read all the time. Still do.”
“My French was pretty good at that time. I want to learn Italian now. That’s next on my list. I know German and English now and some French still.”
On Charlie Scott: “I thought Charlie was going to be there. I assumed we were both going to be there. We hooked up down there for our visit.” When did he find out Charlie wasn’t coming? “When I got there. But it didn’t influence my decision. The first day I got there, I said, ‘This is where I’d like to go.’”
“Charlie Scott was one of the best players who ever played. Carolina was very good. They were very deep and we weren’t that deep. Lefty played seven guys. Every coach has his own philosophy. Carolina could get every player they wanted.”
On Dave Moser: “Dave was a great guard. He never made any mistakes at all. People underestimated him.”
On Wayne Huckel: “Wayne was the toughest. Lefty made him use hip pads. He was just one big bruise. When you played with Wayne you really felt bad if you didn’t dive for a ball on the floor. Because Wayne would bite somebody’s leg off for it.”
“Lefty wasn’t comfortable playing with everybody. You’ve got to stay with it. If we make a couple more shots against Carolina, Lefty’s coach of the year. Shit, man, we were a great team, and we lost to a great team.”
“Lefty’s a great guy. He was the hardest worker. He could move his ears. He doesn’t lie to you. I liked him.”
On the SigmaChi situation: “We did that just to make a thing.”
“I spent a lot of time across the tracks. That was necessary. You’ve got to have some kind of balance. That’s where I could just relax, not have to look over my shoulder. That was necessary at Davidson, a very, very, very white Southern atmosphere.”
“I had some very good friends there. But not everyone was my friend there. Where are the black folks? Across the tracks. Literally. I had to go over and get some soul food.”
The people at Davidson? “A little bit of everything. They were generally tolerant and friendly. I thought they did pretty well, actually, for the ‘60s. My roommate accepted me right away. There were some great people there. Some embraced the idea.”
“But in 1999 even you still have people there that are going to be racist. In 2099 too. Racism is a fact. You accept it. There was no overt racism. People who didn’t like me stayed away from me.”
Any incidents? “Every day, man.”
“When you’re in junior high and high school in New York, you read about things, but you’re not confronting them. One of the deep reasons I wanted to go to Davidson was because there weren’t many blacks. You have to seek confrontation in situations like that.”
“The thing that was really disappointing to me was you realize it’s not just the rednecks that are racist. Looking around, some of the most racist people in the world are in the North. I still think Boston is one of the most racist cities in America.”
“People you consider to be intelligent have that blind spot. And that’s disappointing because we’re talking about America, the richest country in the world, and they’re not doing anything about it. That’s one of the reasons I’m over here.”
1.24.2009
Bill Jarman
The Class of ’63 basketball alum was just inducted into the college’s sports hall of fame at halftime.
I met with Jarman in late November 1998 at a steakhouse in Gastonia to talk for the old book.
Some quick bits from my notes:
“The varsity was a joke in 1959. They had a 6-2 center who could only shoot 50 percent unguarded in layup lines. Dr. Scott liked him because he could jump. He was a kangaroo but he couldn’t dribble and he couldn’t shoot. But he was a super-nice guy.”
“Lefty didn’t take to losing. That was unacceptable.”
“Lefty used to play players 1-on-1. He’d call fouls if he was in danger of losing.”
“While I was playing for him I was sure he hated me. After I graduated, though, he’s been one of the nicest people in the world to me.”
“Sometimes Lefty was dumb like a fox.”
I met with Jarman in late November 1998 at a steakhouse in Gastonia to talk for the old book.
Some quick bits from my notes:
“The varsity was a joke in 1959. They had a 6-2 center who could only shoot 50 percent unguarded in layup lines. Dr. Scott liked him because he could jump. He was a kangaroo but he couldn’t dribble and he couldn’t shoot. But he was a super-nice guy.”
“Lefty didn’t take to losing. That was unacceptable.”
“Lefty used to play players 1-on-1. He’d call fouls if he was in danger of losing.”
“While I was playing for him I was sure he hated me. After I graduated, though, he’s been one of the nicest people in the world to me.”
“Sometimes Lefty was dumb like a fox.”
1.21.2009
A short Maloy story
If you stick with me long enough, if you keep coming back, you might be able to piece together the whole darn manuscript of the unfinished, unpublished old book.
A small bit:
Durwood Settles was never a basketball superstar. He played the game of his life in the Virginia state tournament in the spring of 1960 with Lefty watching from the bleachers. After enrolling in Davidson’s Class of ‘64 with grandiose visions of basketball glory, he broke his foot in his freshman year and was never a factor, really, in the Wildcats’ plans after that.
That, however, didn’t mean he was completely out of the picture. Working in a management training company at a New York City insurance company, Settles received an unexpected call from Lefty in the spring of 1966.
“Durwood,” the coach said. “We got a ballplayer up there. And we need him down here. Can you drive him?”
A 10- to 12-hour drive with a kid he didn’t even know? Settles told Lefty absolutely. After all, in spite of his abbreviated basketball experience at Davidson, Settles felt a debt of gratitude to Lefty, the school and the program.
Two days later, he drove his two-seat MGA sports car to Queens and picked up the kid who was to become Davidson’s third basketball All-American.
Mike Maloy.
“A smarter, more jovial, more gregarious kid you couldn’t find,” Settles said. “All the way down he’s spouting Shakespeare. He was a bit of a poet, a real bright, engaging and delightful young man. And he wasn’t putting on some sort of New York con.”
Settles, impressed, went out of his way at Davidson to find Ed White, then the school’s director of admissions.
That’s how Durwood Settles played his part -- however small -- in the continuation of Davidson’s basketball success in the ‘60s.
“I take credit,” he said, “for having whispered into Ed White’s ear.”
A small bit:
Durwood Settles was never a basketball superstar. He played the game of his life in the Virginia state tournament in the spring of 1960 with Lefty watching from the bleachers. After enrolling in Davidson’s Class of ‘64 with grandiose visions of basketball glory, he broke his foot in his freshman year and was never a factor, really, in the Wildcats’ plans after that.
That, however, didn’t mean he was completely out of the picture. Working in a management training company at a New York City insurance company, Settles received an unexpected call from Lefty in the spring of 1966.
“Durwood,” the coach said. “We got a ballplayer up there. And we need him down here. Can you drive him?”
A 10- to 12-hour drive with a kid he didn’t even know? Settles told Lefty absolutely. After all, in spite of his abbreviated basketball experience at Davidson, Settles felt a debt of gratitude to Lefty, the school and the program.
Two days later, he drove his two-seat MGA sports car to Queens and picked up the kid who was to become Davidson’s third basketball All-American.
Mike Maloy.
“A smarter, more jovial, more gregarious kid you couldn’t find,” Settles said. “All the way down he’s spouting Shakespeare. He was a bit of a poet, a real bright, engaging and delightful young man. And he wasn’t putting on some sort of New York con.”
Settles, impressed, went out of his way at Davidson to find Ed White, then the school’s director of admissions.
That’s how Durwood Settles played his part -- however small -- in the continuation of Davidson’s basketball success in the ‘60s.
“I take credit,” he said, “for having whispered into Ed White’s ear.”
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