A Small Victory

Back in the day I was a huge NCAA basketball fan. I went to St. John's University at the height of the Redmen' success. Top ten, final four, attending classes with Chris Mullen and Walter Berry.

I worked in the Sports Information Department of the University at the time and I was able to bask in the glory of having a winning college basketball team as if I were a part of it.

As a loyal Redman fan, I hated the Georgetown Hoyas and their star, Patrick Ewing.

Of course, when the Knicks drafted Ewing later on, I had to let that sense of rivalry-induced hatred go. All those nights of making faces at Ewing while he was on the foul line, of taunting and jeering him from the rafters of Alumni hall - I had to forget all that and cheer him.

Ewing made it easy to turn those boos into cheers. I found him to be likeable and of course he was a pleasure to watch. Eventuallly he became the only thing about the Knicks that was worth watching.

I gave up on the NBA long ago. I haven't watched a game in ages, though I still follow the Knicks through the sports pages. Mostly I look to see how the team I used to love turned into the goons of the leauge - a nasty, selfish team that deserves its bad-boy image.

I still follow college hoops to an extent. I love March Madness, with the constant parade of hopeful Cinderella teams playing weekday afternoon basketball. I watch the games and look back fondly on the evenings spent throwing paper cups at North Carolina players, even though one of the stars of the great Tarheels team was a high school classmate of mine. I still have a small black spot in my heart for Duke and a soft spot for Seton Hall.

I prefer to remember Ewing as a Hoya. Even though he was a rival of my team then, I got so much more out of watching him as a college player than watching him play for the Knicks.

It's nice to see his number retired, hanging in Madison Square Garden.

It sure makes me miss the days when I enjoyed the NBA, though.