Hoosier Pride

There was but one color in my dresser drawer, but many styles of karma came in red.

I had worn my #4 red Indiana jersey the day before as a tribute to Luke Recker. Alan Henderson’s #44 was ticketed for Friday, but I also had at my disposal several variations on the IU theme. All told, it was enough to cover three full days of Hoosier success, plus some backup in the event of a concessions disaster.

I looked at the wardrobe and wondered how much it would cost to replace it all when the school changed back to Crimson and Cream.

Indiana University was in a state of flux. Under University President Myles Brand, small degree schools had lost prestige and administrative smarminess was at an all-time high. It might be convenient to point to the firing of 29-year head coach Bob Knight as the reason for Brand’s dim popularity in many local circles, but that incident was nothing more than the most widely covered nick in Brand’s leadership mantle. There is a whole website devoted to itemizing his offenses, stuff not racy enough for a made-for-ESPN movie.

The Athletics Department was on the move, too, both by circumstance and habit. Several sports had seen major staffing changes in the last half decade, including two football head coaches and both basketball programs. Kathi Bennett had come on board while Bob Knight was embroiled in controversy surrounding a videotape of a Hoosier practice and enduring a first-round NCAA loss to Pepperdine. Mike Davis succeeded Knight the following September. And one of the men serving as Knight antagonist, Clarence Donniger, was forced into retirement, replaced as Athletic Director by Mike McNeely of the San Diego Chargers.

It was McNeely who championed shedding red-and-white for traditional colors. He wanted real cream and crimson with a mascot added to the mix, despite previous failed attempts at the latter. For Indiana purists born to the Knight Era, the only tradition was the one created three decades ago and present in ’76, ’81 and ’87. The consistency of ambiance was as protected as the system of play — the signature man-to-man defense and motion offense. In his final season, Coach was persuaded by his hipper son to allow longer shorts but firmly drew the line when it came to names on the back of jerseys or eliminating the trademark candy-striper warmup pants. His replacement drew some fire in the offseason for suggesting that both are nearing an end.

Today, though, the past saddled Coach Davis, and he was not in a position to buck it off. He wouldn’t be, Davis acknowledged, until he has some of Bob Knight’s bullet points visible on his own resume. A Big Ten Tourney title would be something new, something distinctive. It would be warmly received by Hoosier fans, even those who might later curse the success as the catalyst for change. And so today, everyone wore red.

State the Obvious

The phone rang just as I was finishing up some database testing. It was Tim, an ancient friend and equal when relishing tournament time. Friday was Tim’s birthday, so I offered him my choice tickets to the Illinois game that evening. We exchanged seat locations — he was in the upper balcony with a Penn State pal — and looked forward to chatting in between buzzers.

On the walk to Conseco I nearly made that meeting impossible. Absent-mindedly, I attempted to trade my two seats for one lower-level ticket. A scalper tried to track down an upgrade for me but instead offered $20 for the spare, reconfirming its value as a coat rack. Fortunately unmoved, I was at my seats before the Michigan State-Indiana game.

“Security. Need to check your tickets,” Tim straight-faced upon arrival.

The familiar banter of long-separated friends followed. We joked about the quality of Session One hoops and negotiated rooting interests for the day. I didn’t have the heart to tell Tony I cheered for Penn State’s opposition, but any guilt was cancelled when the big man declared his dislike for Luke Recker. Only Luke’s mother, it seemed, was capable of appreciating him more than I.

Having already snagged my burger and a Dew (no ice) for the afternoon, I settled in with the partisan Indiana crowd to cheer on the Red and White. No game against Michigan State goes down easily, but the Hoosiers had eaten their share of wins in recent years. A buzzer-beating tip-in gave Bob Knight one of his final and most memorable victories. The next game, State started a huge winning streak that didn’t end until a return trip to Assembly Hall to meet Coach Davis’ club. Kirk Haston, who left school early for the NBA, hit the game-winning shot in that victory. IU hadn’t won up in the Breslin Center, but off of State’s home turf the Spartans were susceptible.

As a high school star from Michigan, Dane Fife took a beating from opposing fans from the north. The senior guard took shots from locals, too, as an underachiever. A former McDonald’s All-American, Fife mutated in Bloomington from a scoring threat into a defensive specialist and occasional thug. Fife’s play in this game, though, kept critics at bay with a double-digit first half and trademark defense that propelled the Hoosiers to a 30-19 lead with under three minutes to play.

As well as Indiana produced during the first half, the Hoosiers were still prone to sloppy play. A steal by Tommy Coverdale preceded a horrid pass on a fastbreak. Jared Jeffries and Jeffrey Newton missed wide-open dunks, and the latter appeared at times incapable of fielding balls below his waist. Indiana’s outlook may have been sunny, but dark clouds rolled along the horizon.

At the half, the packed house was treated to a magic act called, “Quick Change.” The show was tacky, bordering on gaudy. With bright costumes and embarrassing moves, a woman danced around a tuxedoed man. As we watched, she changed attire between flashes of colored fabric waved quickly by the magician. Mere sleight-of-hand for the masses, but there was something more and more compelling about it all as the costumes flipped from one to the next. One had to admire the dexterity and planning involved. By the time the duo finished — changing an outfit in a mist of sparkle confetti — I cheered in earnest.

The tenor of the game changed just as quickly, thanks to what must have been a rousing locker room speech by head coach Tom Izzo. A sudden barrage in the first three minutes of the second half had cut the Hoosier lead to five. Sophomore Marcus Taylor barely registered in the first twenty minutes but keyed the Spartan run with what would soon become a 20-point effort. Indiana withshtood the attack from Taylor, though, using some old-fashioned three-point plays to stave off the comeback. Despite more lazy play, Indiana held on to win by eleven.

Michigan State had only one senior on the roster — reserve guard Mat Ishbia — making the program an early favorite for 2002-2003. The Spartans were done for this tournament, but an NCAA bid loomed to offer a second chance. Indiana had only to wait another day for their own shot at redemption.

Final Score: Indiana Hoosiers 67 – Michigan State Spartans 56
Player of the Game: G Marcus Taylor, Michigan State
(Honorable mention to Jared Jeffries and Tom Coverdale)

4-And-20 Hawkeye

The announcer wouldn’t report on the sellout crowd of 18,996 for another two hours, but a head count at the start of the second game would have verified that number. Most Indiana fans stayed put. Some scouted the next IU opponent for weaknesses; most just stuck around to root against Hoosier Public Enemy Number One … Luke Recker.

Few were present to hear my screams on Thursday, but I knew any public support of Recker would be under scrutiny this afternoon. The majority veiw was expressed succinctly by two loud-mouthed Indiana fans, seated a couple rows behind me. “You suck, Recker!” the mantra went. They were as belligerent toward Recker as they had been to the officials in Game Four, offering no distinction in choice of language. They were joined by a legion of Wisconsin fans surrounding me and a handful of otherwise impartial onlookers who aligned with Tony’s stated position on Recker’s game. Far away in the other corner of Conseco, the black and yellow Iowa section had grown slightly larger in a day. But those cheers still had to contend with the weight of a scorned state. It was less taxing on the court, where the Hawkeyes only had to face down the top-seeded Badgers, co-champions of the Big Ten.

As had been the case in the Purdue game, Iowa came out flat. Wisconsin dominated early but allowed enough room for Hawkeye sophomore Glen Worley to get eight points and two rebounds in the first half. Big Reggie Evans and Recker — to the delight of many — were held in check, the two combining for just 6 points. Two of Recker’s points, though, came in a 5-point flourish at the end of the half to cut the lead to a manageable 26-21.

Grumbling, the crowd moved en masse toward the concourse with the intention of discussing the Hawkeye’s pending demise during a 20-minute wait for fries and ice cream. But before many could wend their way up the aisles, the halftime show began. Once it did, few made it any further before players reclaimed the court.

One of the glorious constants in regional sports was the Jesse White Tumblers. Born out of 1950s gang violence, the Tumblers offered an unlikely alternative for inner city youth — gymnastics. I first saw them perform during halftime of a Chicago Bears football game but soon encountered the troupe playing NBA venues and traveling the minor league circuit, too. Compared to the schlock passing as halftime entertainment thus far, the Jesse White Tumblers were Caruso at the Met.

The routine seldom varies. Kids, all Black and seldom female, perform a checklist of tumbles and jumps that get progressively more advanced and eye-popping as the athletes get larger in size. By the time the six-footers get their final hops, the stadium is synchronized with oohs, ahhs and explosive applause. My favorite reaction came from the Burlington Bees, who followed an exciting victory over Kane County last summer with a performance of the Tumblers. Professional athletes capable of hurling a small ball almost 100 mph had their arms raised and jaws dropped, high-fiving and salaam-ing the youngsters on their way off the field.

I am a veteran of the act, yet the Tumblers still made my jaw drop with each leap. Friday’s performance was no different … with the exception of one fat kid without an apparent role. At first, he appeared no more than awkward comic relief. His chunky body hopped through a maze of sprawled bodies through which his lithe and muscular peers dove with precision. But suddenly, the fat kid started a series of backwards flips, first on two hands and then one. Though he withdrew to become trampoline anchor and human hurdle for the remainder of the show, I pictured the fat kid next year at the United Ceenter leaping with the six-footers.

Trapped near their seats by the performance, some fans decided to skip the resumption of play in favor of a burger. They missed little except for a phantom charge called against Wisconsin’s Kirk Penney a little over four minutes into the second half. Since the player hitting the floor was Luke Recker, the reaction of the attending crowd was more incensed that it might have been. Penney and Charlie Wills had 17 before the fat kid flipped, but the Badgers had allowed Iowa to stay close with some defensive lapses in the final minutes. Although the 34-38 score favored Wisconsin, that charge proved to be a turning point.

Luke Recker started to play his game.

The fifth-year senior showed signs of life with five points on two buckets. His production got teammates involved, too, as a pair of Worley free throws and a bomb by Brody Boyd pulled the Hawkeyes to within one. With just over eleven minutes to play, Iowa managed a two-point lead. Penney and the Badgers responded with a 7-point run, but again it was Recker drawing a foul, making his shots and then following with a trey to tie Wisconsin at 44. It went that way the rest of the game. Every time Wisconsin pulled away, Luke Recker kept Iowa in step. Rip the two off his jersey and dye the mesh red, this was the same player who thrilled Assembly Hall as a freshman and sophomore.

Recker almost hurt his team, too. Following a basket and a timeout at 54-53, Recker slammed the ballto the court after catching a foul call. His critics rose bellowing, “Technical!” The demand was not out of place but rang hollow when sounded by fans who had calmly dismissed a similar manuever by a Hoosier player just two hours earlier. The referees held their whistles in check, and Recker’s teammates did the same for him.

Devin Harris’ two free throws gave the favored club a three point advantage with a minute to go. An Evans miss was put back successfully by Iowa’s Duez Henderson, who then tied the score when a Wisconsin player added a foul to the basket. Playing for the final shot, Wisconsin gave up the possession to an alert Hawkeye defender. The interception set up a game-winning opportunity for the underdogs.

Conseco rumbled in restless speculation. There was no question the ball was going to Luke Recker. The other senior star, Evans, had been manhandled by the Badgers and boasted just 4 points to his line. Recker had the hot hand with 22 of his 26 points coming in the second half. The prospect of nemesis playing hero rubbed the men behind me into a lather.

Like so many of his shots, Recker looked wild going up. He left his feet and floated left, his legs spread-eagle. One defender for each second remaining stood between him and the basket. Helped by his reckless form, the ball snuck through both men. Somehow, it reached the bottom of the net cleanly. 58-56. The game did not end until Wisconsin botched their own desperation heave, but Hoosiers were already up the aisles and out the door before the buzzer made it official.

This time, Luke Recker did not have to look for the cameras. They were looking for him.

Final Score: Iowa Hawkeyes 58 – Wisconsin Badgers 56
Player of the Game: G Luke Recker, Iowa
(Honorable mention to Kirk Penney and Charlie Wills)