Authors: John Feinstein
The finale to the long day was Duke—Virginia. Traditionally, the last game of the first day is a debacle. Although the schedule says 9
P.M.
it never starts before 9:30, and it seems as if the players are tired from watching the other three games.
“It feels like you’re playing in the middle of the night,” Virginia Assistant Coach Tom Perrin said.
For the Cavaliers this would be a sad ending to a sad season. They came in with a 13–17 record, many of the losses near-misses. In February, they had lost their leader, point guard John Johnson, when he had tested positive for drugs.
With
Johnson, Virginia wasn’t that good. Without him …
“It’s a funny feeling,” Perrin said as he waited for the game to start. “In one way, we’ll all be glad when this is over. In another, I feel really sad knowing we’ll be watching the NCAAs on television. It’s such an exciting time. It will be a real left-out feeling.”
For a half, the Cavaliers acted as if they wanted to give Duke a left-out feeling. Slowing the Blue Devils to their pace—a crawl—they scored the last 10 points of the half and led 26–24. Krzyzewski’s concern that his team was still in a self-congratulatory mood had been well founded. Duke was flat.
Snyder had five turnovers during the first twenty minutes, including two passes that had endangered spectators. “His dad’s here,” Krzyzewski said. “I think he was trying to throw him a pass. I finally said, “Forget your old man and throw the goddamn ball to Ferry.”
In the second half, Snyder did exactly as he was told. With Duke leading, 38–35, Snyder took over the game. He hit a three-pointer and then a free throw. Then he stole the ball from UVA’s John Crotty and fed King, who would have gone in for a dunk if Crotty hadn’t fouled him intentionally. King made one free throw, then Strickland made two more on the ensuing possession. Finally, Snyder stole the ball again and his lay-up made it 47–35 with ten minutes left. Duke was home free.
When it was over, an eager radio man asked Krzyzewski how it felt to get the first one out of the way. “It feels,” Krzyzewski said, “like you feel when you get over a sickness.”
The semifinals were set just before midnight: Carolina–Maryland and State–Duke.
Strangely, each of the four teams still alive was exactly where it wanted to be today. Maryland didn’t care who it played, just so it was still playing. Carolina was delighted not to have to face Tech. State was convinced it would continue its domination over Duke. And the Blue Devils wanted another shot at the Wolfpack.
The opener was your basic yawner. Maryland had shot its wad the day before. What’s more, the Terrapins didn’t really think they could beat the Tar Heels. After an early 15–12 Maryland lead, Carolina went on a 16–4 binge to take a 28–19 lead. Maryland got back to within six by halftime but Carolina started the second half with a 9–2 run and Maryland never again got closer than eight—and that with a minute to go. The final was 74–64.
The only entertainment was provided by the Duke students who, each time the Carolina band played its fight song, stood and held up
their fingers to indicate the number of times the song had been played. There are those who believe the Carolina pep band knows only two songs: the fight song and the national anthem. But, in its defense, the band plays the national anthem faster than anyone in the country, clocked at an average of fifty-four seconds when in midseason form. In an era when some singers stretch the anthem to over two minutes, a fifty-four-second rendition cannot be underappreciated.
The other amusing moment came after the game when Carolina’s Jeff Lebo, talking about why it was important for the Tar Heels to win the tournament, commented, “We’re probably the only ones who thought we had a chance at the start of the season.”
Carolina had been a consensus pick to win the league in preseason. When this was pointed out to Lebo, he said, “Well, I saw some preseason magazines that picked us second, third, even fourth.” If a magazine existed that had picked the Tar Heels fourth, no one had
ever
seen it. If it did exist, one might guess that it would cease to exist making those sorts of predictions very quickly. Anyway, Lebo was convinced he and his teammates were the underdogs. His coach wouldn’t have it any other way.
Game two was as tense as game one had been dull. Krzyzewski had made a point of not talking about revenge to his team beforehand. Instead, he had just said again and again, “Play
our
game, not theirs.”
State’s game, as had been proven earlier, was hard for Duke to handle. With the two talented big men, Shackleford and Chucky Brown, and the slashing point guard, Corchiani, State was always going to give Duke trouble. What’s more, the Blue Devils were tired; they had played until midnight on Friday and then had to come back and play at 4
P.M.
Saturday afternoon. This was the same route State had taken to the championship a year ago. It could be done.
At halftime Duke led 38–36. Just as they had done in Durham, the Blue Devils came out flying at the start of the second half, building a 51–41 lead. But State had seen this before. Valvano inserted Rodney Monroe, his designated Duke-killer, and Monroe began his devastation act again. With some surprising help from backup guard Kelsey Weems, he shot the Wolfpack right back into the game, scoring nine points in four minutes. A Weems free throw tied it at 60–60 and the script looked familiar.
But the Blue Devils were getting some unexpected help of their own. Ala Abdelnaby, the talented but often immature sophomore, came off
the bench to score 12 points in nine minutes, giving Duke an offensive spark it needed. Still, when Monroe bombed a three-pointer that Ferry deflected to no avail, State led 67–64 with 5:50 left. Ferry missed a jumper. Shackleford posted and was fouled. Two free throws would make the lead 5.
“This is right where we want to be,” Valvano thought on the bench. “We’ve got them thinking, ‘Oh no, not again.’ We’re on a roll. We’re in control.”
But standing on the foul line, King was not thinking desperate thoughts. “I looked at Shack and said to myself, ‘He’s going to miss.’ I just thought sooner or later our luck had to change against these guys.”
Sure enough, Shackleford missed. Ferry hit to cut the margin to one and then Weems went to the line for another one-and-one. He missed too. Ferry hit a short jumper with 4:15 left and Duke was back up, 68–67.
“Now it’s just a battle,” Valvano said. “They had a chance to ice us, we had a chance to ice them. No one did it. Now it comes down to one play. Those kind, anything can happen.”
Valvano was right. Both teams were reeling with exhaustion. Del Negro, clutch as always, put State back up, 69–68. But then came the shot that should have told people this was Duke’s day.
The shot came from Phil Henderson, the enigmatic sophomore guard. With Duke’s offense looking totally disorganized and State all over Ferry, he nailed a three-pointer. That made it 71–69. Chucky Brown tied it at 71–71, but missed still another free throw. Duke called time with 2:06 left to make sure to get a good shot.
The person Krzyzewski wanted to see shooting in this situation was Ferry. Even on a day when Ferry’s shot wasn’t dropping, he was the key to the Duke offense. He was such a talented passer, such an instinctive player, that any time he handled the ball Duke’s offense improved. “Good things tend to happen,” King said, “when we get the ball to Danny.”
This time, they got the ball to Danny and he drove the lane for a short, pull-up jumper. That made it 73–71. There was still 1:45 left. State wanted the ball in Del Negro’s hands almost as much as Duke wanted it in Ferry’s. He drove the baseline, but with King all over him his shot rolled off the rim. Snyder skied over everyone for the rebound. There was 1:10 left. Duke could not run the clock out. Again, the ball
went to Ferry. This time, though, he missed and State had one more chance.
“That kind of situation, last thirty seconds, game on the line, everything is so frenzied it’s usually good for the offense,” Valvano said later. “Almost always, someone on defense will get confused somewhere along the line and you’ll get a good shot. But Duke isn’t your average defensive team. I didn’t want to call time-out, but I had to.”
Valvano called time with twelve seconds left. He wanted to get the ball to Del Negro or Monroe, his two best one-on-one players offensively. Let them do what they could and send Shackleford and Brown to the boards.
On the other bench, Krzyzewski was thinking with Valvano. He also had a picture in his mind that he couldn’t get to go away. “It was a Rodney Monroe highlight film,” he said later. “In it he makes about a million shots against Duke and the last one is a three-pointer at the buzzer in the ACC Tournament.”
For a split second, Krzyzewski was tempted to switch King onto Monroe. But he resisted. Keep the senior on the senior. Del Negro was still State’s most dangerous player. Krzyzewski told King to face-guard Del Negro and Henderson to face-guard Monroe. In other words, their sole responsibility was to deny them the ball. They weren’t to worry about helping out or double-teaming.
Leaving the huddle, thinking with his coach as he always seemed to do, King had the same disturbing vision of Monroe. He walked over to Henderson, pointed at Monroe and said, “
Don’t
let him get the ball.”
Henderson listened. The ball came in to Corchiani. King and Henderson were all over Del Negro and Monroe. With time running down, Corchiani tried to throw a lob in to Shackleford, who had gotten behind Ferry. But Corchiani had thrown the ball in to Shackleford on a straight line instead of on an angle. “A straight-line lob, there’s time for the help to get there,” Valvano said. “On an angle, the help can’t get there.”
Robert Brickey was the help. He came up behind Shackleford. There was contact. Valvano screamed for a foul. There was no call. The ball rolled off Shackleford’s leg and out of bounds with five seconds left.
Duke was able to run the clock out. It had won—survived—73–71.
Valvano was crushed. He had thought his team was going to win the game and then find a way to beat Carolina. Now it was Duke that
would have the chance. Even so, as he and Krzyzewski shook hands, they hugged. They were an odd couple, these two. For thirteen years—first at Iona and Army for five, then at State and Duke for eight—they had coached against each other. They were as different as two men could be except that each, using entirely different methods, was very successful. Twice, Valvano had beaten Krzyzewski. But in the game both wanted most, Krzyzewski had won.
King felt totally drained by the game. “We worked so hard to win it felt so good,” he said. “I was ready to celebrate right then.”
It was Snyder who brought everyone back to earth. As his teammates were congratulating themselves in the locker room, he walked around saying quietly, “Carolina. One more. Let’s go.”
There were very few people in the Greensboro Coliseum for the Duke–North Carolina final who gave the Blue Devils much chance. To begin with, history said that Dean Smith did not often lose to the same team or coach three times in a season. In twenty-seven years, three coaches had done it to him: Vic Bubas, the great Duke coach of the ’60s; Norman Sloan, when he had David Thompson at State in the ’70s; and Bobby Cremins, during his dream season at Georgia Tech in 1985.
There was more. Carolina was rested. The Tar Heels had played early Friday and won easily. They had played first Saturday and won easily. Duke had played very late Friday and won, but not easily. It had played second Saturday and had fallen across the finish line, exhausted.
And, there was the old Smith theory that it’s very hard to beat a good team three times in a season. That had worked for Duke on Saturday. Now, it would work against it.
But in an ACC Tournament final, logic is wasted. Like the tournament itself, the final is unique. The atmosphere is different from an NCAA game, or any other game for that matter. The two teams know each other. They are always playing for a third time. The players are often friends. The coaches know each others’ foibles. And, there is the Krzyzewski theory of being King of the Block. This is the street fight where everyone stands around in a circle while the two big guys go at it to see who is boss.
On Saturday night, after the team had met to go through matchups, King, Strickland, Snyder, and Ferry sat in the hotel watching the movie
Stakeout
. They had become an almost inseparable foursome, the two seniors and the two juniors. All four had been part of an ACC championship in 1986. But that had been different. They had been complementary players then. Now, they were the nucleus. “We wanted one we could absolutely call our own,” King said.
It would not be easy and they knew it. King had shut down his friend Lebo twice. Doing it a third straight time would be tough. Reid had played poorly in Durham. He wasn’t likely to be so bad again. They talked about the game, the matchups, and how much they wanted to win until exhaustion overtook them and they went to bed.
The referees for the final would be Joe Forte, Dick Paparo, and Tom Fraim. For Fraim, this was special: his first ACC final after twenty-three years of officiating. It would also be his last. He had decided to retire at the end of the season to spend more time with his family. On Saturday night, all the officials got together and took him out for a farewell dinner.
Sunday morning was cool and gorgeous, a reminder that spring was not far away. The arena would be split between Duke and Carolina fans. Many of the other schools’ fans had gone home, selling their tickets to Duke and Carolina people on their way out.
Both teams came out blazing. The first four baskets of the game were three-pointers. Brickey picked up his second foul early. Krzyzewski gambled and left him in. King had been right about Lebo. He opened the game with a three-pointer, then hit another. By halftime, he had 13 points.
It was 37–37 at intermission, Carolina outscoring Duke 10–1 during the last four minutes. Walking off the floor, King heard the Carolina players saying, “Yeah, yeah, we got ’em going now.” His mind went back seven days to Durham. “It was 36–36 then. I thought, ‘Twenty minutes. Just suck it up for twenty minutes.’ ”