A Season Inside (64 page)

As those final tortured seconds were ticking away for Purdue, another session of that popular show, “Late Night with Billy King,” was being convened. These sessions, held in the hotel room shared by King and Kevin Strickland, had become a regular part of Duke’s pregame routine.

Shortly after Coach Mike Krzyzewski finished his night-before-a-game team meeting, King, Strickland, Quin Snyder, and Danny Ferry would convene to watch a movie or talk about the game or talk about girls or talk about whatever was on their minds.

Tonight’s special guest on “Late Night” was Ala Abdelnaby, the talented 6–10 sophomore who could be so good and so bad, sometimes within the same game. All four of the regulars wanted to take a shot at Abdelnaby—verbally. Since Snyder’s emergence as not just the team’s point guard but its offensive leader, he had joined the other three as the team’s leadership. King and Strickland were the captains, but the four of them together were the ruling junta.

In fourteen hours, the Blue Devils would be playing Temple for the Eastern Regional championship. The Owls were the No. 1 seed in the East and the No. 1 ranked team in the country. There was no doubt that Duke would have to play its best game of the season to pull the upset. But they were going to play the game without John Smith, the 6–7 junior who was the first forward off the bench. On Thursday, during the 73–72 victory over Rhode Island, Smith had taken a charge late in the first half. He had already contributed 11 points at that stage and when he took the charge he was so pumped up that he jumped up and slammed his fist into the stanchion under the basket.

Even though the padding softened the blow, Smith broke a bone in his hand. He would not play against Temple. That meant Abdelnaby would have to play a significant role, especially if Robert Brickey got into foul trouble.

Abdelnaby’s talent was unquestioned. His potential had never been more apparent than in the ACC semifinal, when he had come in to score 12 vital points in just nine minutes. But he was also immature. To the ruling junta, Abdelnaby was a playful little brother who hadn’t quite figured out what life was all about. He made mistakes, got into trouble, drove the coaches to distraction, and made it impossible for anyone to stay mad at him for very long.

He was, in short, the team flake. But the time for flakiness was long since past. “Ala,” King said, speaking for the group, “you have got to come in ready to play tomorrow. No fooling around. No silly mistakes. We really need you in this game. This isn’t fool-around time anymore. This is for the Final Four.”

Getting to this no-fool-around time hadn’t been easy. After watching Rhode Island beat Syracuse, the Blue Devils had fully expected a battle with the Rams, a talented, confident team on a roll. Duke had opened a nine-point lead early, but had blown all but one point of it, leading only 37–36 at halftime. Krzyzewski wasn’t happy at intermission. Strickland had played one of his languid halves, acting as if this were November, not March. “Goddamn it, Kevin, when are you going to stop this shit?!” Krzyzewski yelled.

The second half was a struggle. Owens and Garrick were so tough to stop that Krzyzewski played a few possessions of zone, something he hated doing. King had his hands full with Garrick, but he felt responsible for Strickland too. Midway through the half as Strickland went to the foul line, King walked up behind him and hissed, “Goddamn it, Kevin, if you don’t get going, this is going to be our last game. And if it is, I’m going to kill you!”

Whether that threat registered with Strickland or not, he finally shook loose for a couple of key jumpers. Ferry got open inside and Snyder, who had become Mr. Clutch, also hit. And, when Rhode Island was rallying in the last minute, Brickey stepped forward and made four straight free throws to deny the Rams a chance to catch up.

The victory put the Blue Devils into the final against Temple. Since becoming No. 1 in the rankings in February, the Owls had been virtually unstoppable. They had won that classic game from Villanova, then had embarrassed North Carolina in Chapel Hill. They rolled through the Atlantic 10 Tournament—beating Rhode Island in the final—and won their first three NCAA games with ease, beating Lehigh, Georgetown, and Richmond. The Spiders’ dream tournament had ended emphatically when the Owls beat them, 69–47.

The key matchups in the final were Billy King versus Temple’s cerebral freshman Mark Macon, and Kevin Strickland versus Mike Vreeswyk, the Owls’ designated three-point shooter. Strickland had always been known for his offense. In this game, his defense would be crucial.

The game could not have started any worse than it did for Duke.
Vreeswyk opened the scoring with an open three-pointer. Ferry threw a pass away. Brickey missed a dunk. The Blue Devils were zero-for-five before they made a basket. They were down 9–4 when Krzyzewski drew a technical trying to tell Larry Lembo that he and his partners didn’t know what walking was. It was 17–7 when Macon hit a soft jumper with 10:02 left.

Abdelnaby came in for Brickey. Duke’s 6–5 sophomore was having serious trouble with Temple’s 6–8 Tim Perry. Brickey is such a wonderful jumper that he almost never gets his shot blocked. Perry was blocking it. “Robert had a problem,” Krzyzewski said later. “He was trying to shoot and Perry was playing catch. He would catch Robert’s shots and throw them back to him.”

Krzyzewski needed Abdelnaby’s size against Perry. He also needed some offense. Strickland, Ferry, and Greg Koubek began to supply some. Abdelnaby went to the boards with Perry and drew two fouls from him. When Strickland hit two straight jumpers, the Blue Devils were within 19–17. Temple opened the lead to seven again but Strickland hit once more just before halftime to cut the margin to 28–25.

Krzyzewski’s message at halftime was simple. “You played terribly for ten minutes and you’re still right in the game. You
know
now that you can beat this team. Now, go do it.”

Defense had kept Duke in the game. Macon was 4-for-16; Vreeswyk 2-for-6. Could King and Strickland keep that up? Could the Blue Devils find some offense? Yes and yes. After a three-point play by Perry started the half, Duke took over the game. Ironically, King’s offense started it. He rolled to the basket for a short pop that made it 31–27. Ferry hit and King followed a Strickland miss to tie the score for the first time. Then Strickland, on a switch play, blocked a Macon jumper. Enter Snyder. He knocked in a three-pointer to make it 34–31. Strickland hit again. The run was 11–0.

Duke wasn’t finished. A jumper by rarely used Derrick Brantley made it 40–35. Snyder hit two free throws. Macon, with King in his face, threw his
seventh
air ball of the game. Strickland hit a three. Perry threw a bad pass. Strickland hit another three, this one falling down as the shot clock ran out. Ferry hit a jumper. It was 50–35. Coach John Chaney called time. It was too late. “When Strickland hit that second three-pointer, that was the one that killed us,” Chaney said. “You play good defense for forty-five seconds and then a guy hits one from the boondocks.”

Duke’s defense was the story of this game. By the time the befuddled Macon was through, he had gone 6-for-29. Strickland had held Vreeswyk to 2-for-12. The two Duke seniors, neither one ever really a star, had starred. Especially King. This was his day. Ferry was voted the MVP after scoring 20 points, but a strong case could have been made for King. When he took Macon out of the game, he had taken Temple out of the game. The Owls just couldn’t adjust. The final was 63–53, the last two points coming when King giddily tapped the ball over his head to Strickland, who laid the ball in at the buzzer.

The ruling junta took turns hugging while Krzyzewski dashed across the court to where his wife, Mickie, and his daughters, Deborah and Lindy, were sitting. This was no small thing for Duke. Two Final Fours in three years—with different players in the key roles—was the mark of a program that was going to be a factor for a long time to come.

For King, the feeling was almost indescribable. He had spoken back in February about collecting memories during this season because he expected to be in the real world next year. Now, he had not only captained an ACC champion and a Final Four team, but in doing so had put together a string of defensive performances that would be remembered for years to come.

During a two-week, six-game stretch King had guarded Vinny Del Negro, Jeff Lebo, Kato Armstrong, Tom Garrick, and last but not least, Mark Macon. Only against Boston University in the first round of the tournament had he not faced a player with a big-time scoring reputation. The five sharpshooters had shot a combined 30-for-95, topped by Macon’s 6-for-29 against King.

King is not a sentimental person by nature. But as he and his teammates were cutting the nets down, he knew this was one time when he wanted a souvenir. “Let me finish,” he said, grabbing the scissors. With that, he clipped the last two strands, put the net around his neck and walked off. Another keepsake to show the children in the years to come.

While the Blue Devils were celebrating, Villanova was trying to pull off one more miracle—and coming remarkably close.

The Wildcats knew they couldn’t possibly run with Oklahoma. They knew they had to get the game at a slow pace, take a long time
whenever they had the ball, and hope that the Sooners would give in to impatience and make mistakes.

For almost thirty minutes, the strategy worked. Oklahoma was frustrated at every turn as Wilson, West, Plansky, and Massey handled the ball almost flawlessly against the Sooner press. But this was an Oklahoma team that did not give in easily. Its press was one of attrition. If it didn’t get you early, it was probably going to get you late. A 14–2 run by the Sooners turned an eight-point deficit into a four-point lead.

Still, the Wildcats hung in. With less than four minutes left, Massey went to the foul line for a one-and-one. Oklahoma was leading 59–54. If he made both, the margin would only be three points. But Massey missed, Harvey Grant sneaked behind the defense for a dunk, and suddenly the lead was seven. Villanova had to foul. The Sooners made their free throws and the Wildcats ran out of gas. The final was 78–59, deceptive because it had been anybody’s game until those last four minutes.

“You only get this close only so many times,” Massimino said. “That makes it disappointing. But how can I possibly have asked for any more than this team gave me? They were great, from day one to the last day. They gave me everything they had to give.”

And the little coach had given everything he had to give. Remember: In adversity, the true guy comes out.

Steve Kerr was worried. Arizona was in the West Regional Final but it had been too easy. Cornell had been a walkover, but that was expected. Seton Hall had been a rout. That was a surprise. Iowa’s press, which had seemed so tough to handle in Iowa City in December, had been a breeze. No one had come within 20 points of the Wildcats and they were one step from the Final Four. Only North Carolina stood in their way.

That was why Kerr couldn’t sleep. “I kept tossing and turning, having completely different ideas about the game. One minute I would wake up and say, ‘Jeez, Dean Smith has lost three straight regional finals, maybe this is his turn.’ Then, I would say, ‘Yeah, but Ranzino Smith’s the only senior, they’re all back next year.’ I just kept going back and forth in my mind all night.

“All I wanted to do really was get on the court and play the damn game. That’s the hardest thing about the tournament. You play for two hours and then it seems like you wait forever before you play again. All you can think about is the game coming up. It drives you crazy.”

Standing on the court in the empty Kingdome ninety minutes before tip-off, he was not his usual, joking self. “It’s almost like I can’t believe we’re here, not in the sense of the team being good enough but in the sense of how quickly it’s gotten here. I mean, this is it. We win, we go. Everything we’ve worked for since October happens. We lose and—boom—just like that the whole thing is over.

“I woke up this morning and I started thinking about the game and I actually found myself praying, saying, ‘Please, God, let us win.’ I’ve never done that before in my life. But then I can’t remember ever wanting something so much in my life.”

While Kerr was talking, the giant screen in the Kingdome was showing the Kansas—Kansas State Midwest final. Kansas had taken control and Kerr, being the student of the game that he was, couldn’t help but notice.

“Kansas is playing unreal defense,” he said admiringly. “But I can’t believe the luck they’ve gotten with the draw. Every time they’re about to play somebody really good, they get upset. First N.C. State, then Pittsburgh, then Purdue. It’s almost like a destiny thing with them.”

It was indeed almost like a “destiny thing” for the Jayhawks. Larry Brown had felt inklings in that direction in Lincoln and now they were coming in loud and clear in Pontiac. Every button he pressed was correct. After the Jayhawks had lost in the Big Eight Tournament to Kansas State, Brown had been furious with Scooter Barry, who had played horribly in point guard Pritchard’s place.

“If I ever try to put that little sucker in a game again when it matters, stop me,” he had told his assistants in the immediate aftermath. Today, against K–State, when Jeff Gueldner missed two easy shots early, Brown yanked him and put Barry in the game so quickly the assistants never had a chance to stop him. Barry responded with the game of his life: 15 points, 5 rebounds, and 3 assists in 25 minutes. That, combined with Manning’s 20 points, Milt Newton’s 18, and the suffocating Kansas defense (Mitch Richmond was held to 11 points, 24 less than he had scored in the teams’ last meeting) was enough to put the Jayhawks in Kansas City.

“Well,” Kerr said as the final minutes of the Kansas game wound down, “that makes three. Now the question is, who will be number four?”

It was a good question. North Carolina had been playing well. The Tar Heels had bounced back from the Duke loss in the ACC Tournament to beat North Texas State easily in the first round. They had then routed a Loyola—Marymount team that was getting all sorts of attention because of its tremendous scoring, then had shut down Gary Grant in the round of sixteen en route to beating Michigan. Now, for the third time in four years, they were one step from the Final Four.