Written on 6-11-18.
Let’s write about that 3-pointer story now. It’s been on my Writing To Do List for years. I had a dream just this morning where Marcy Jung asked me to announce for a volleyball match again. I did that a few times when I was at Fort Lewis. It was fantastic, because I was a big fan of the team, I was learning about and getting better at playing volleyball, and I had an immense crush on #8, too.
Belinda (#8) and I have had many dreams similar to that about that time in our lives, recurring dreams about trying out for the team and having practices. Why? What is it about that time? It’s emotional and formational, for sure. During that period, I had what was a highlight and a lowlight, the 3-pointer.
This is how I remember it. It was my sophomore year, and we were near the end of our season. Because of our winning record, we had the best seed and Colorado School of Mines had the worst, so we got to play them at home in the first round of the RMAC tournament. My high school friend and incredibly talented basketball player, Andy Visnyei, or Vish for short, played for them and played a lot.
I, however, did not play a lot. I was in the top ten, so I traveled with the team, but I only got in...
during the last few minutes and only if we were ahead by 20 points or more. For this game, we were destroying the School of Mines. We were ahead by as much as 30 points, and Coach Hofman cleared the bench in the first half, something he had never done before.
He cleared the entire bench, except for me. I believe he thought he had gotten us all in, so it was just an oversight. No big deal. I was a bit surprised I didn’t get to go in, but I wasn’t upset about it. I was happy for the guys who did, guys like Kevin Marushack, an elementary school buddy, Shawn Martinez, and Doug Tucker. Even my roommate and close friend, John Antcliffe could be included in that group, although he got some prime time playing time at times.
As the game came to a close, we were nearing 100 points as a team. Our field house was packed with fans, and they were going nuts. They began to cheer, “We want 100! We want 100! We want 100!”
The problem was we were running out of time.
Continued on 6-12-18.
I finally did get in for the last few minutes in the second half, and we had 97 points. It was all scrubs and bench sitters at that point, and everyone was hoping for 100 points, including the starters. The feeling was electric. It came down to the last minute, and we still hadn’t gotten it done. Hofman called a time-out to set up a play. The play was designed for Kevin to shoot a 3-pointer, because he was the best long-distance shooter out of all of us. Made sense to me. I wasn’t even involved in the play.
Jeff Norton and I watched this last play over and over again on the VHS tape in Coach Hofman’s office days later, which makes it funny to me that I don’t better remember what happened. Even Coach Hofman years later remembered it wrong when I saw him at a Hall of Fame Induction for Belinda’s volleyball team. He said at the reception, “Remember when Marushack made that 3-pointer for 100 points?”
I had to remind him that it was me, but even after telling him, he didn’t seem convinced. He had set it up for Marushack to shoot, so it makes sense.
The play he set up was for Kevin to shoot near the top of the key after coming off of a screen. Like I wrote above, I was not involved. I was meant to stay away, and I did, ending up in the deep right corner of the court. When the ball couldn’t get to Kevin, however, it ended up with John, and then John ended up passing it to me. This all happened within the final ten seconds of the game, so it can be pictured in slow motion now, like it was being filmed for a movie. I caught the ball, and it’s at this point where I like to make jokes when I’m recounting this story to others out loud. 3…I traveled. 2…I stepped out of bounds. 1…I threw the ball up in the air toward the basket.
It was smoother than that, but still pretty unorthodox. It wasn’t my best shooting form. 3…I caught the ball. 2…I squared up to the basket. 1…I let it go.
It didn’t swish. It bounced a few times, and then it fell in, and then the most amazing thing happened. This is the part I remember best when watching it over and over again on the VHS with Jeff. The crowd exploded. They shot up out of their seats in unison as if we had just won the NBA Finals. They were like poppies sprouting in fast motion all at the same time. It was pandemonium and chaos! They rushed out onto the floor. I was picked up. Yes, they picked me up. I remember that because my jock strap was grabbed and stretched up toward the ceiling. Embarrassed, I struggled unsuccessfully to fix it. They carried me for a while before setting me down again. It was magical. It was crazy. It was weird and wonderful all at the same time.
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