More on the Davidson All-American from my notes from my interviews for the old book:
Doug Cook ’70, Dec. 16, 1998, Montclair, N.J.: “Mike had some problems down there. He played it off because he had such a great personality. If you’re a black guy, do you really want to go to a Southern school with all these rich, white kids?”
“Mike was Mr. Personality. He was just that type of guy. Very fun-loving. I don’t think Mike ran into problems with students on campus. He ran into problems with fans.”
“But I think he felt like he was something of a novelty like he was on stage all the time. I think some of the local activist people got to him by senior year. He was just no longer the happy go-lucky guy. He was more concerned with what was going on in the world.”
Fox DeMoisey ’70: “Maloy had arms like an albatross, and huge hands. When he caught a basketball, it’d be like you catching a tennis ball. You really had to make an awful pass for him not to catch it.”
“Maloy had a damn near photographic memory. He didn’t make the grades simply because of disinterest.”
Mike Dickens ’69, October 1998, Bethesda, Md.: “A very bright guy. Incredibly charming. His life is about being smart and charming, and never stringing it together.”
“Maloy would get out there, Rodney Knowles would stand there, Maloy would make three moves, and Knowles was still reacting to the first.”
“Mike didn’t have anything but friends. Mike would hang out socially with black folks from the other side of the tracks. But by and large, he socialized with us, his fraternity brothers, playing Frisbee, playing bridge.”
Bob Dunham ’70, Jan. 6, 1999, Chapel Hill: “He went through a hard time at Davidson, just like anybody else who was African-American in those days -- not just at Davidson, but in the South. He took some verbal abuse, not from Davidson fans so much as other fans -- he would get heckled on the road.”
“Mike had this sense that he often felt somewhat used at Davidson as just a sports figure. The people who knew Mike didn’t feel that way. A lot of us just liked to spend time with him. One of the regrets of my life is that he drifted away from Davidson and from his friends there.”
“Mike had an infectious laugh.”
“I think he just didn’t care a lot. There was no question about his ability. He was as bright as can be.”
Tom Couch, Jan. 11, 1999, Davidson: “Lefty was a disciplinarian until it came time to win. Mike knew that, and played to that.”
“Everyone loved the guy to death. Everyone loved Mike Maloy.”
“He was so smart it was unbelievable. Mike was the kind of guy who passed without even buying a book.”
Wayne Huckel ’69, Nov. 5, 1998, Charlotte: “Mike had the best of both worlds, in my opinion. He fit in so well because he was so likeable. Plus he was also embraced by the black community across the tracks.”
Steve Kirley ’71, January 1999, Clemmons, N.C.: “He had some of the biggest arms and biggest hands you’ll ever see. He played like a 7-footer.”
Jan Postma ’70, Dec. 11, 1998, Spartanburg, S.C.: “I liked Mike a lot. He was real smart. Unbelievably smart. He could pick up languages just like that. His biggest problem was he was just immature.”
“Mike tried to laugh it off, but it was pretty stressful. I think that all blacks at the time felt like fish out of water. It didn’t matter where you went. Personally I wouldn’t have wanted to be a black student at Davidson.”
Lester Strong ’72, Dec. 24, 1998, Boston: “I’ll never forget being in the low post defending him and his body. He was like a whirling dervish. You never knew which way the guy was going to go. It was like hitting this wall of muscle.”
Showing posts with label tom couch. Show all posts
Showing posts with label tom couch. Show all posts
1.29.2009
11.24.2008
Lefty
From the old book (the one that wasn’t finished or published), not this book (the one that was) …
(This was written literally a decade ago.)
(I was barely 21.)
(Please don’t judge.)
(Anyway …)
Longtime Davidson trainer Tom Couch and Lefty once were on a recruiting trip in Virginia over Christmas break. Perhaps pushing the Wildcat Buick a bit too hard, Couch got pulled over by a state trooper. Not to worry, Lefty said. After all, this was the coach’s old stomping grounds. Lefty began to make his case. It didn’t work. “Look,” the cop told Lefty, according to Couch, “I don’t give a damn who you are. You better sit down and shut up.” Said Couch: “That’s the first time I ever saw Lefty intimidated.” But with troopers out of the way, Lefty, who sold encyclopedias on the side when he was a high school coach, could recruit better than just about anybody back in that era.
Case in point: Terry Holland, his first land at Davidson, the initial inclination that he wasn’t blowing smoke, that he could attract top-rated talent to Davidson, that the Wildcats could be a success story in the major college ranks. In front of a basketball who’s-who at an Atlanta dinner in December celebrating Lefty’s 700th coaching win, Holland, now the athletics director at the University of Virginia, told his story.
He was all but a Demon Deacon, the 6-foot-7 Clinton, North Carolina, high schooler grappling with his college decision. Len Chappell and Billy Packer were the duo that made Bones McKinney’s Wake Forest squad the cream of the Atlantic Coast Conference. His next-door neighbor was the student manager for the Deacons. He had friends in Winston-Salem.
But give Lefty a chance. Just recently hired, the energetic salesman already was on the road peddling his message, his vision of what Davidson could and should become -- in a way, his newest set of encyclopedias. He arrived at the Holland home. It was prom night 1960. Basketball was important for Holland, but definitely not the most important thing that evening -- after all, Ann, his sweetheart and future wife was waiting. Lefty still made his pitch. Holland’s mother liked him and Davidson immediately.
“My mother kept thinking Davidson was a great place for me,” Holland said in his office in Charlottesville. “But I just couldn’t see how we could be successful basketball-wise.”
Still leaning toward Wake, Holland tried to extricate himself from the meeting. He had other things on his mind. Lefty offered to help. “Take my car,” he said. Holland graciously accepted the keys to Lefty’s 1956 Ford and sped off.
“I got to Ann’s house and took her to the prom,” Holland told the crowd in Atlanta. “And then I realized I had left Lefty at home with my mother. When I got back, not only was I going to Davidson, but we had a new set of encyclopedias.”
(This was written literally a decade ago.)
(I was barely 21.)
(Please don’t judge.)
(Anyway …)
Longtime Davidson trainer Tom Couch and Lefty once were on a recruiting trip in Virginia over Christmas break. Perhaps pushing the Wildcat Buick a bit too hard, Couch got pulled over by a state trooper. Not to worry, Lefty said. After all, this was the coach’s old stomping grounds. Lefty began to make his case. It didn’t work. “Look,” the cop told Lefty, according to Couch, “I don’t give a damn who you are. You better sit down and shut up.” Said Couch: “That’s the first time I ever saw Lefty intimidated.” But with troopers out of the way, Lefty, who sold encyclopedias on the side when he was a high school coach, could recruit better than just about anybody back in that era.
Case in point: Terry Holland, his first land at Davidson, the initial inclination that he wasn’t blowing smoke, that he could attract top-rated talent to Davidson, that the Wildcats could be a success story in the major college ranks. In front of a basketball who’s-who at an Atlanta dinner in December celebrating Lefty’s 700th coaching win, Holland, now the athletics director at the University of Virginia, told his story.
He was all but a Demon Deacon, the 6-foot-7 Clinton, North Carolina, high schooler grappling with his college decision. Len Chappell and Billy Packer were the duo that made Bones McKinney’s Wake Forest squad the cream of the Atlantic Coast Conference. His next-door neighbor was the student manager for the Deacons. He had friends in Winston-Salem.
But give Lefty a chance. Just recently hired, the energetic salesman already was on the road peddling his message, his vision of what Davidson could and should become -- in a way, his newest set of encyclopedias. He arrived at the Holland home. It was prom night 1960. Basketball was important for Holland, but definitely not the most important thing that evening -- after all, Ann, his sweetheart and future wife was waiting. Lefty still made his pitch. Holland’s mother liked him and Davidson immediately.
“My mother kept thinking Davidson was a great place for me,” Holland said in his office in Charlottesville. “But I just couldn’t see how we could be successful basketball-wise.”
Still leaning toward Wake, Holland tried to extricate himself from the meeting. He had other things on his mind. Lefty offered to help. “Take my car,” he said. Holland graciously accepted the keys to Lefty’s 1956 Ford and sped off.
“I got to Ann’s house and took her to the prom,” Holland told the crowd in Atlanta. “And then I realized I had left Lefty at home with my mother. When I got back, not only was I going to Davidson, but we had a new set of encyclopedias.”
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