Play by Play

by Verne Lundquist

  Love them or hate them, the Kentucky Wildcats were a welcome addition to the tournament after a two-year absence following NCAA sanctions resulting from improprieties involving Eddie Sutton’s previous coaching regime. To the Kentucky faithful, the team’s four seniors—Richie Farmer, Deron Feldhaus, John Pelphrey, and Sean Woods—were victims of circumstance. They were also extremely loyal. Each of them opted to remain at Kentucky despite the postseason ban. You went to Kentucky to have a shot at a national championship, and the four of them, all but Sean Woods, a native of Kentucky, were denied that opportunity for two of their four years. As much as those seniors contributed, Jamal Mashburn was in his sophomore season, shooting .567 from the field and .439 from beyond the three-point arc.

  Duke had won the title the previous season and came back with a talented and deep roster. All-Americans Christian Laettner and Grant Hill led the team. The gritty Bobby Hurley, a coach’s kid, was their point guard. Grant’s father, Calvin, played for the Cowboys back when I was their radio guy. Calvin and I were good friends, and when his wife Janice was pregnant, I asked Calvin to let me know as soon as possible when their child was born. I actually announced Grant’s birth on October 5, 1972, to an audience in Dallas–Fort Worth on my telecast on that Friday night. At the conclusion of the Duke-Kentucky game, I shared that story and a bit more. Calvin wanted to name their son after his father, Henry. Janice couldn’t see that. I do know that Roger Staubach visited the Hills in the hospital. He insists that it was he who suggested that Calvin and Janice name their only child Grant.

  Regardless of his name, Grant Hill was a very, very talented player. He and his Blue Devil teammates ran off 17 straight, lost a close one to North Carolina, and then suffered only one other defeat, to Wake Forest, to cap a remarkable regular season. They earned a top seed in the East and were set to face Kentucky, with a record of 31-2. Comparatively speaking, Kentucky struggled a bit. They stumbled out of the gate, losing two games before SEC play began, but they handily won the SEC regular season title with four conference losses. They also won the SEC tournament. They were the No. 2 seed in the region and came into the regional final with a record of 29-6.

  For so many, March 28, 1992, and the events at the Philadelphia Spectrum have similar staying power. That a regional final could eclipse in people’s memory the championship game says a lot about what took place on the court during that 104–103 overtime win. I can, almost, say the same thing about one play that took up 2.1 seconds in that game and its power to overshadow the preceding 44 minutes and 57.9 seconds. That says something about the nature of certain moments, extraordinary efforts in athletic competition. I suppose that is why we say they transcend the game.

  Down by one with just over two seconds left, Grant Hill was to inbound the ball for Duke at his own end line. Len Elmore pointed out that he suspected that Duke might opt to advance the ball past midcourt and then take a quick time-out. Going the full length of the court and getting a good shot seemed unlikely. Kentucky opted not to put a defender on Hill and he had a clear view down court. He threw the ball baseball style to Laettner, who caught it near the free throw line with his back to the basket. He turned and hit the jumper. The game was over.

  As much as I remember what took place on the court, I also recall what many of you at home watching then or during one of the countless times it’s been replayed may not have been aware of. Lesley Visser was with us in Philadelphia, and she prepared a tribute to the University of Kentucky’s longtime radio broadcaster, Cawood Ledford. He was in his final season after being the voice of the Wildcats for thirty-nine years. We wanted to salute him, but we never got Lesley on the air. Nearly every play in the game was so compelling that we didn’t want to disrupt the continuity of the broadcast with that kind of an insert.

  We weren’t the only ones who were aware of the significance of that game for Ledford. In the bedlam after the Shot, Mike Krzyzewski managed to make his way over to Kentucky radio’s position to congratulate him and to thank him for his contributions to the game of basketball. That was one of the classiest gestures I’ve ever witnessed. Like I said, some moments transcend a game, and for Coach K to have the presence of mind to do that is one reason he’s so highly regarded by so many.

  At the conclusion of the broadcast, Len and I took off our headsets. We didn’t say a word. We both knew that we’d been a part of something monumental. How could we not have? Bob Ryan of the Boston Globe, an award-winning columnist and widely acknowledged basketball guru, walked to our broadcast position. He said to Lenny, “Listen, I was at the Maryland–North Carolina State game in 1974. I’ve always thought that was the greatest basketball game I ever saw. Until tonight. Can you give me some context? Which one had more significance?”

  Len had played in that game. What was at stake was a berth in the NCAA tournament for the winner of the ACC. North Carolina State had David Thompson, a guy whose leaping ability defied physics and our ability to capture his talent in words. The Wolfpack edged the Terrapins, 103–100, in overtime. What’s remarkable is that there was no thirty-five-second clock, no three-point field goals, and, if you believe Len Elmore, who was a fierce shot blocker, both teams displayed great defense in that forty-five-minute struggle. North Carolina State was the top-ranked and Maryland fourth-ranked team in the country. And can you imagine this: Fourteen players participated in that game—seven for each team. Eight of them went on to be NBA draft picks.

  Len, always one to consider a question thoroughly, paused for a good ten seconds. Then he answered, “This one.”

  Now, keep in mind that Bob Ryan’s question was about significance. He didn’t say “best,” and that’s what Len responded to—the impact the game had on the championship picture.

  All I can urge you to do is watch that NC State–Maryland game yourself and compare it to what Kentucky and Duke offered. We live in a great time when such things are easily possible and you won’t be disappointed no matter which of those two classic games you deem best.

  I was able to intercept Coach K after he spoke with Cawood Ledford. Mike was trying to make his way to speak with the Duke radio people. I caught him and said, “That’s just the greatest game I think I’ve ever seen, and especially the finish.”

  Mike said to me with affection, “I just knew if we could get it in the son of a bitch’s hands, he would make the shot.”

  Unfairly or not, Christian Laettner has not enjoyed the greatest reputation. He could be a bit standoffish with the media, and I don’t fully understand why he got so much grief throughout his career at Duke and later. Years later, the writer Gene Wojiechowski approached me to talk about the game and I obliged. I told him the story above. Later, when I got a chance to review, prepublication, what Gene had written, I was taken aback. Instead of Mike calling his center an SOB, clearly a term of endearment in my mind, Gene thought that I, and Coach K, had said, “a-hole.” I immediately got on the phone and cleared the matter up with Gene. I was glad I did, as was Gene, but no one was happier about that correction that Laettner himself.

  I didn’t watch the telecast for eleven years. I thought at the time that our broadcast was very good. I didn’t want to see anything that might change my perceptions. In 2003, Raftery and I were in Minneapolis to do the regional final there. I was in my hotel room preparing for the Marquette and Kentucky matchup that would feature Dwyane Wade. The phone rang and Raft wanted to give me a heads-up. ESPN Classic was showing the 1992 game. I was hesitant at first, but I did watch it. I know that reality can intrude on memories and sometimes elbow aside our cherished ones. The game was about six minutes old. I sat enthralled by what was taking place on the court. In a way, Len and I were just white noise. I didn’t pay attention to our commentary with the kind of close scrutiny that I often did when I was younger and so eager to learn. I’m not beyond learning, but given the circumstances, this wasn’t a full-on study session.

  I had a few nits to pick, but the most egregious one was that I knew that Christian Laettner
had been 10-for-10 from the free throw line. The Shot made him 10-for-10 from the field as well. I also recall that he had 7 rebounds. Missing out on the opportunity to point out that he’d been faultless from the field—even the sound of those words as I type them give me pleasure—upset me. I hold myself accountable for that mistake but know that I wasn’t solely responsible for it.

  On the twentieth anniversary of the game, CBS rented a suite in the Waldorf-Astoria hotel in Manhattan. I was in town for the National Football Foundation annual banquet, which was always held there. Len worked in the city. CBS flew Christian Laettner up from his home. Lenny and Christian and I were videotaped as we watched the telecast of Duke–Kentucky.

  The one response from Christian that I most remember is when he felt like he had been roughhoused at the Kentucky end of the court, that someone had grabbed him around the neck and hauled him out of bounds. He believed that it was a Kentucky bench player by the name of Aminu Timberlake. On a later trip down the floor, Timberlake was sprawled on his back under the basket. Laettner put his size 14 rather abruptly down in Timberlake’s midsection. Lenny said, “I’m not so sure he meant to do that,” and I said, “Oh, yes, he did.” And replays were pretty conclusive that he did.

  So when we were watching the retelecast, we got to that moment in the game and Christian said—and they had him on camera for this—“I just knew you guys would feel compelled to show that.” And I said, “Well, Christian, why would we not? It was one of the more memorable aspects of a game, and you probably should have been ejected.” And then he explained his version of why he had done it, that he felt like he had been roughhoused and thrown to the floor on the defensive end, and that Timberlake was the guy who had done it. It turned out that was not true. Regardless, even if he had been the one who fouled Laettner, that didn’t excuse what Laettner did in retaliation. He was fortunate not to be ejected from the game. Another whole string of what-ifs could be spun into something very different from the eventual outcome.

  I also was amazed by the shot that Sean Woods of Kentucky hit with 2.1 seconds left in overtime to tie the game at 100. If it weren’t for what transpired in what little time remained maybe we’d all be praising him and saluting him for hitting the shot in the greatest college basketball game ever. Woods had a tremendous game, scoring 21, with 9 assists. On a pick-and-roll play they’d run many times, he released a hook shot that hit the backboard before going cleanly through the net. Maybe in a game of H-O-R-S-E the shot wouldn’t have counted because he didn’t call the bank shot. In Wojiechowski’s book, a few of the Duke players made pointed reference to that bank shot, but in reality it was a more difficult “look” than Laettner’s final shot that ended the game. Besides, it’s not really how but how many that matter—except when you’re talking about one of the greatest moments in all of sports.

  The Shot was as much about strategy as it was execution. That doesn’t diminish the skills of the players; it just supports the truism that it is a coach’s job to put players in the right position to succeed. That meant Coach K deciding that rather than have his point guard, the NCAA’s career assist leader, take the ball out from beneath their own basket, Grant Hill would be there. Surely, if Hurley were back there, Rick Pitino would have put one of his taller frontline players on the baseline to harass the Duke point guard. Instead, with Hill back there, he opted to put all of his men back in a basketball version of a prevent defense.

  As so often happens when football defensive coordinators opt for that approach, a great pass and catch defeated that strategic decision. The ball was on the money, just beyond the outstretched hands of Feldhaus and Pelphrey, two of the been-done-wrong Kentucky seniors. Pitino’s strategy was sound. Double-team the player who was perfect from the floor for the game. Double-team the guy who was an All-American. Double-team the Player of the Year. Don’t foul him. If he makes the shot, he deserves all the accolades.

  He did make the Shot and Duke went on to win back-to-back championships, the first team since John Wooden’s legendary UCLA teams dominated the sport like no one before or since. Even if he hadn’t, you might be able to make a case for this being the most compelling college basketball game ever. Combined, the two teams shot 61 percent from the field. Duke’s Bobby Hurley played all 45 minutes of the contest, putting up 22 points while dishing out 10 assists. Jamal Mashburn played 43 minutes, made 11 of 16 field goals, hauled down 10 rebounds, and was 3 of 4 from three-point territory and was 3 for 3 from the line. John Pelphrey was 5 of 7 from the field, including 3 of 4 from beyond the arc. You could say that Duke’s 19 turnovers kept Kentucky in the game, but in watching it again, and at the time, I was struck by the high level of the play. Time and time again, Len and I found our voices rising as we witnessed the call and response that makes basketball and its alternating possession of the ball so compelling. In what other sport can thirty-five seconds elapse, as it did at the conclusion of this one, with the ball changing hands five times, and each time it did so the team scored and the lead changed?

  Strategy figured throughout. Coach Pitino felt that his Wildcats were more fit, had better stamina, and at the end of the game that would make a difference. Full-court man-to-man pressure proved to be the ticket when Kentucky found itself down by a dozen. When he switched to that attacking style, the game turned. Kentucky ran off eight straight points in the second half to pull within four at 67–63. We could feel a shift in the intensity of the game. That run came off a time-out and it seemed as if Duke lost its focus and Kentucky made them realize what a lapse like that could mean. Then came Laettner’s poor judgment. Mike Krzyzewski yelled at his star, “That was unbelievably dumb.” Yes, it was. Why risk fouling out or playing cautiously on the defensive end to avoid that fate by exacting revenge?

  The game went on, relentlessly forward. Pelphrey, with four fouls, drew a charge on the exhausted but still driving Hurley. Thomas Hill contributed two big buckets. In overtime, Hurley missed a three and Grant Hill grabbed the backbreaking offensive rebound. He got the ball back to Hurley, who didn’t miss the second chance. And before the Shot? Laettner hit two free throws to tie the game at 98. He was the only player to score for Duke from that point on. One of them was a bank shot off a partial block and reload, but style points don’t really matter. That bit of good fortune was followed by those five possessions, the lead changes, and then the moment in time. Laettner dribbled once, faked right, and spun left and then rose up, falling away.

  As much as the Shot itself, we all remember the Reaction. Kentucky players stunned, on the floor or with hands on heads as if to keep their skulls intact from the mind-blowing drama they’d just participated in. Len and I stayed quiet for more than a minute. What was there to say? Wasn’t it obvious? A great game. A great team pushed to its absolute limit by another. One team overjoyed, the other disconsolate. Coach K would later say that he felt guilty that he and his team had caused the Kentucky side so much pain. Coach Pitino didn’t want 2.1 seconds to dictate his kids’ basketball life. Maybe it did. Maybe it didn’t. But if your life is going to be dictated by any one small bit of time, isn’t it better to be a fragment from a beautiful whole? If only you could see that small piece like a shard in a kaleidoscope, how by just turning that tube slightly, how it reflected or refracted would produce another thing of beauty.

  Chapter 13

  In Your Life: Tiger and Other PGA Tales

  I’ve collected a lot of memorabilia over the years. Opposite that signed Jack Nicklaus photo in my office, I’ve got another signed classic picture hanging on the wall. Tiger Woods holing out a chip shot on 16 in 2005 ranks right up there in a lot of people’s minds as one of the greatest shots in Masters history.

  The 2005 Masters was, for me, the tale of three “marks.” A ball mark, spike marks, and Chris DiMarco. All figured in what was an amazing week of golf. It began as a variation on a horror story: It was a dark and stormy morning. Heavy rains delayed the start of the tournament by five hours, and 68 of the 93 players starting the t
ournament wound up having to complete their first round on the second day of the tournament. Chris DiMarco took advantage of the soft conditions and fired an opening-round 67 to lead after the first round. Tiger struggled out of the gate and shot a 74.

  Stop me if you’ve heard this one before: Tiger was under the microscope. He’d gone ten straight major tournaments without a win. He’d gone thirty-four months without a victory in one of his sport’s big four. He’d revamped his swing. He’d switched equipment. He’d gotten married and had maybe lost his edge, his competitive fire. He’d become distracted with the work of his foundation and other endeavors.

  For those into the minutiae of the sport, Tiger took a big step toward accepting the reality of the game. Other players had already switched to drivers with longer shafts made of space-age composites and heads nearly the size of, well, human heads. Tiger was monstrously long, but others were catching up to him. In 2005 Tiger joined the ranks of the high-tech hitters. Rain softens greens but slows fairways. Tiger was back to bombing the ball beyond most of the competition. That increased distance paid off for him in round two when he fired a six-under 66. DiMarco, not known for his length, shot another 67 to be ten under going into the weekend.

  During Tiger’s so-called major drought, the pundits had decided that the gap between Tiger and the rest of the golfers on tour had closed. In fact, they then touted the Big Four—Woods, Phil Mickelson, Vijay Singh, and Ernie Els. The middle two of the four extended a figurative, and perhaps literal, middle finger at one another over marking up the greens with metal spikes in their shoes. The offender was Mickelson. He chose to wear old-school metal spikes to help his footing in the soggy conditions. Singh, playing in a group behind Phil all three days, didn’t take kindly to Phil’s perfectly legal footwear choice. He complained to tournament officials. Phil took exception to this. Why hadn’t Singh spoken to him directly? Round three had a lengthy rain delay and rumors swirled about a clubhouse dustup between the two men that nearly had them come to blows. Perhaps it would best be settled with a duel at dawn with drivers fired at twenty paces?