A Season Inside (57 page)

That was Krzyzewski’s theme at halftime. He knew his team was tired and sore. But this was no time for nursing wounds. They had to regroup and come back out with as much fire as they had displayed at the start of the game. King wondered if his team could hang on. Reid hadn’t scored a single point in the first half. In fact, the Carolina starting front line had two points combined. That wasn’t going to last.

In the other locker room, Smith thought his team was right where it wanted to be. He knew that his front line wasn’t going to be shut out for forty minutes. He knew Duke had to be tired. “I was very
confident,” he said. “We weren’t shooting well, but my gosh, the effort was certainly there.”

The Tar Heels came out blazing in the second half. Ferry missed twice for Duke and Williams and Reid scored for Carolina. Krzyzewski took a quick time-out. He could feel the game slipping away. During the time-out he made a decision. “If they don’t show me something quickly, I’m coming in with the kids.”

The kids, the second team, had been coming in as a unit in the first half for the last three games. But never in the second half, especially not with an ACC title at stake and Carolina on a roll. But Krzyzewski felt he needed to do something drastic.

Snyder did break the second half shutout—the 4–0 start meant the run had reached 14–1—with a three-pointer that cut the lead to 41–40. But Reid immediately went inside and King was forced to foul him to prevent a dunk. It was his fourth foul. Reid only made one of two but Krzyzewski had made his decision: In came the kids. The starters were surprised.

“Carolina was all wound up,” King said. “They were saying to each other, ‘Come on, let’s make this a big run.’ We were definitely down. We were feeling sorry for ourselves. If a couple more possessions had gone by like that, it might have gotten to the point where we just said, ‘well, we gave it our best effort.’ Sitting on the bench, we watched the young guys. We figured if they cared enough to play that hard, we could suck it up one more time.”

The kiddie corps didn’t score. But during the two minutes they played, the Tar Heels only stretched the lead to 46–40. Snyder was the first starter to go back in and he promptly hit another three-pointer to breathe some life back into his team. Then, John Smith, still in the game for Ferry, made a spectacular spinning lay-up, got fouled, and made the free throw. The score was tied at 46–46. The rest of the starters came back. The run was done. Duke had its second wind.

From there, the game was anybody’s. Fatigue became a factor for both teams. Carolina couldn’t score, but neither could Duke. Smith put the Blue Devils up with a neat inside move, 58–57, with 5:07 left. Ferry then hit a huge shot, a three-pointer with 4:14 left. That pushed the lead to 61–57. Both teams kept missing. Scott Williams’s two free throws cut it to 61–59 with 2:26 left. Ferry missed. Bucknall charged at the other end.

Carolina fouled King with 1:28 left to keep Duke from using up too much clock. King has always been a poor foul shooter. “When I was eight, I can remember not being able to make free throws,” he said. “It just never changed. This time, though, I thought I was going to make it. I just told myself the shot was going in. I was shocked when it didn’t.”

So, apparently, were the Tar Heels. While Reid and Kevin Madden watched helplessly, Ferry grabbed the ball off the rim and quickly put it back in. Again, something that never happened to Carolina had happened to Carolina. Careless boxing out in a critical situation had been costly. Now, it was 63–59 with 1:16 left. Carolina worked the ball inside again and Madden was fouled. He made both free throws with fifty-seven ticks to go. It was 63–61. Duke had to score again.

The Blue Devils let the game clock run to twenty seconds, the shot clock to ten. Naturally, the ball went to Ferry. But Lebo made a brilliant play, dropping off his man and reaching in on Ferry as he tried to go the basket. He stripped the ball cleanly and took off, heading for a tying lay-up. Freshman King Rice was with Lebo. The only Blue Devil back was Snyder. Lebo fed Rice and they went in on Snyder two-on-one.

“At first I thought sure Rice would go back to Jeff,” Snyder said later. “I thought about going towards him but then out of the corner of my eye I saw Kevin [Strickland] coming back and getting close to Jeff. I gambled and stayed with Rice.”

Rice also saw Strickland. It would have taken a miraculous play by Strickland to stop Lebo if he had gotten the ball back. But Rice didn’t want to take the chance. He went to the basket, looking for a lay-up or a foul. Snyder, 6–3 and perhaps the second-best athlete on the Duke team (behind Brickey), jumped with him. Rice had to try to shoot over Snyder. The ball rolled off the rim. Strickland grabbed it, turned and saw everyone else still sprinting toward him and the Carolina basket.

Except for Brickey, who was a step behind—but now a step ahead—of everyone. Instinctively, he released the ball to Brickey who went in so pumped to dunk that he rammed the ball off the rim. It went high in the air and, remarkably, it was Snyder who grabbed it. He had turned and raced back downcourt, taking nothing for granted. With time running out, Lebo had to foul. Four seconds were now left.

Carolina called time to let Snyder think about the situation. If he missed, Carolina could tie with a two-point shot, win with a three. If
he made one, a three could still tie the game. If he made both, it was over.

Snyder was the first one out of the huddle. He went right to the foul line while King gathered the rest of the team to double-check on matchups. Standing on the line, waiting to hand him the ball was Forte, who had made the call on Lebo.

“That was a good call, Mr. Forte,” Snyder said, glad to have someone to talk to.

“Thank you, Quin,” Forte answered. “You’re right.”

They both laughed. Both teams were now in position. As Snyder stepped up to the line, King walked up behind him. “End this shit,” he hissed. Snyder nodded and took the ball. He stared at the rim and shot.
Swish
. It was 64–61. Snyder took the ball again, his eyes never leaving the rim. He aimed and shot again.
Swish
. 65–61.

Now, it was over. Brickey intercepted the inbounds pass and time ran out. Krzyzewski was so thrilled that he forgot to shake Smith’s hand before joining the celebration. He was in midleap when he looked down and saw Smith standing there, forlornly, waiting to congratulate him. “I felt like an idiot,” Coach K said later. “That was bad after a game like that. If anyone thinks this tournament is meaningless, they should have watched this game.”

No doubt. Snyder and King were locked in an endless hug. In eight short days they had turned their season completely around. The Tar Heels were devastated. “It really hurts to lose this,” Smith admitted, “because we put so much into it.”

Both teams had put heart and soul into it. Not because it would influence where they went in the NCAA Tournament—even though it would—but because of the championship that was at stake. The ACC Championship.

Two hours after Duke and Carolina decided the ACC title, they learned, along with everyone else, where they would be going to start NCAA Tournament play.

The four No. 1 seeds had been locked in for a couple of weeks: Temple, the top-ranked team in the country, was No. 1 in the East. Oklahoma was No. 1 in the Southeast. Purdue was No. 1 in the Midwest. And Arizona was No. 1 in the West. By their seeding, they were installed as the favorites to reach the Final Four in Kansas City.

By upsetting Carolina, Duke had won the right to stay near home. Instead of being shipped west as the No. 2 seed in the West Regional, the Blue Devils were installed as the No. 2 seed in the East, meaning they would open play that Thursday in the Deandome. Instead of getting to play at home, Carolina had to trek to Salt Lake City as the No. 2 seed in the West. Kentucky was the No. 2 seed in the Southeast and Pittsburgh, in spite of losing to Villanova in the Big East semifinals, was No. 2 in the Midwest.

Villanova, after losing the Big East final to Syracuse, was No. 6 in the Southeast—the highest one of Rollie Massimino’s teams had ever been seeded. Kansas was also a No. 6 seed after being bombed in the Big Eight semifinals by Kansas State. The Jayhawks would open in the Midwest against a Xavier team many people thought might upset them. N.C. State was also in the Midwest, with a tough first-round game against Murray State. “I hate playing teams where every guy is 6–6 and can jump,” Valvano said. “If we win, we’ll win by two.”

Ohio State, in spite of upsetting Purdue in the last week of the season to finish 16–12, did not get a bid. Gary Williams and his team gathered in the locker room on Sunday afternoon to watch the pairings. When the last two teams had gone up on the board, Williams clicked the TV off.

“We just didn’t play well enough, guys,” he said. “We’ll get an NIT bid. Seniors, look at it as a chance to go out on an up note. You younger guys, use the experience to learn and get better so we won’t go through this again next year.” Williams went home that evening depressed. “I expect to have a long career in coaching,” he said. “I’ll get to the NCAAs again. But the players only get four shots. I feel bad for them.”

Don DeVoe’s Tennessee team didn’t get a bid either. But DeVoe hadn’t expected one after losing in the first round of the SEC Tournament to Florida to finish 16–12. Tennessee also received an NIT bid.

One coach whose phone didn’t ring at all on that Sunday night was Rick Barnes. He had hoped that George Mason’s 20–10 record would earn it an NIT bid even though the Patriots were not the name type of team the NIT looks for to sell tickets. The call never came. Most of the teams in the NIT field had weaker records than George Mason—but records don’t really matter to the NIT.

“First thing tomorrow morning,” Barnes said, “I get on the road
recruiting. We’re going to get players so we don’t have to wait for a phone call anymore.”

Of the 291 teams that started on October 15, 96 were going to postseason play—32 to the NIT and 64 to the NCAAs. The 32 would play for a consolation prize. The 64 would play 63 games. Only one of them would end the season with a victory.

For David Robinson and Kevin Houston, the NCAA Tournament was just a spectator sport. Houston filled out a pool sheet on Monday morning, picking Temple, Brigham Young, Kansas State, and Arizona to reach the Final Four. Robinson, who had played in the NCAA Tournament the past three years, didn’t bother with a pool. “All I know,” he said, “is I’m not playing.”

Robinson and Houston were playing basketball, though. Both had traveled to this Marine base on the Atlantic coast for the annual Armed Forces Tournament. Each of the four branches had a team and the tournament would be a three-day double-elimination.

Houston had been with the Army team since January. He and his wife Elizabeth had gone west to San Francisco so Houston could try out for the team in mid-January. The trip had not gotten off to an auspicious start. When the Houstons arrived in the apartment building provided for officers stationed at the Presidio, they found themselves back in college. The apartment had a small bedroom and a sitting room with a couch and a TV. The bathroom was down the hall.

“It wasn’t a great way to start,” Houston said. “We opened the door, looked around and said, ‘Oh no.’ But after a while we got used to it.”

Houston also got used to his new team. The Army All-Stars were,
for the most part, experienced Army veterans. Houston was the youngest member of the team. He was also the most publicized and the only white member. This combination guaranteed that Houston would catch a lot of flak from his new teammates.

“It worked out really well,” he said, laughing. “I mean, right from the start it was the same old story, guys not believing I was me because I looked so young and all. They all made me feel like part of the group right from the beginning by giving me a hard time.”

This was a period of adjustment for Houston. He had not played on a daily basis since his senior season at Army ended the previous March. He had to get used to playing international rules because most of the tournaments the Army team played in were played under those rules. That meant adjusting to the international three-point line, which was nine inches farther out than the college three-point line. A subtle difference but, without question, a difference.

And, being on a veteran, talented team, Houston was not the star anymore. He was a starter and a scorer but not every play was being run for him. He had to share the ball. “In a way, it’s fun going out knowing I don’t have to score 30 for us to win,” he said. “But it’s been an adjustment not having the ball as much as I used to. It doesn’t bother me. It’s just different.”

Always, though, Houston’s mind focused on one thing, on or off the court: the Olympic Trials. He knew the invitations were going out in mid-April and he had heard that Bill Stein, one of John Thompson’s assistant coaches, had inquired about the team’s schedule so he could scout Houston at some point. Even just watching games on television, Houston’s mind was on his chances.

“I would watch a guy make a move and I’d say to myself, ‘Can I do that?’ I’d see a guard and wonder if I could guard him. Or, if he could guard me. Some nights I would sit there and think they couldn’t choose seventy-five guys without me being one of them. Then, on other nights I would think there was no way I could make that top seventy-five.

“Liz and I would talk about it and she would ask me what I thought and every day it seemed like I thought something different.”

Houston was happy with the way he was playing. His scoring average was about half of the 32.9 points per game he had averaged at Army, but he wasn’t shooting nearly as often. Once a week, he called the Army basketball office to update them on his progress. Coach Les
Wohtke was surprised when Houston would say softly, “I’m playing pretty well.”

“Kevin never says he’s playing well,” Wohtke said, “unless he’s playing great.”

In truth, Houston was having the time of his life. For the first time since he had enrolled at West Point he had some free time. He and Elizabeth played tourist all around the Bay Area and they decided to start a family. “I’d like to have about four kids,” Houston said, grinning. “All of them white shooters.”