Major League memories of a title run

Memories will be shared aplenty this weekend in Saint Peter as Gustavus celebrates 100 years of men's basketball. As a member of the most accomplished team in league history — and one of the few MIAC blogs around — I view it as my duty to recap some of the best memories from the 2002-03 season that finished in Salem. Having oodles and oodles of time on my hands doesn't hurt, either.

But why choose Major League, a baseball movie, to help explain my basketball memories? Wouldn't Hoosiers have been a better choice? Probably, but my situation made the choice easy — I've watched Major League four times since surgery and don't have Hoosiers within immediate reach. Lame but true. Plus, Major League was full of characters, which made it a better fit with my eclectic Gustie squad.

Anyway, let's jump into things.

"The post-game show is brought to you by … Christ, I can't find it. To hell with it." — Harry Doyle

The best season in MIAC history had plenty of ugly moments. A particularly bad stretch of play — three losses in four games — led to an unprecedented move by coach Mark Hanson. Immediately following a disappointing loss to an average Saint John's team on Gus Young Court, we held a team meeting to sort out our many issues. The honest self assessment lasted more than 30 minutes and finished with the entire room being asked to fill out a lineup card.

The ensuing change in philosophy — from playing two true posts to one — gave yours truly and future league MVP Doug Espenson more playing time. It also helped spark a historic run to the NCAA title game. My Gusties won 17 of our final 19 games before a heartbreaking loss in the finals to Williams. Blowing a six-point lead in the final three minutes of a game we controlled throughout was wildly disappointing, obviously.

"Let's cut through the crap, Vaughn. I only got one thing to say to you: Strike this mother****** out!" — Roger Dorn

As it stands, the 2002-03 Gustavus team has a great argument for the best team in school history. It's a debate I love to have with Bob Southworth, who starred on the great Gustie teams in the late 1990s. But it's easy to forget how close we were to a disastrous loss to Bethel in the semifinals of the MIAC tournament — a loss that would have likely ended our season.

Bethel scored a tip-in to go up 64-63 with under 10 seconds remaining. PG Chris Tebrake brought the ball up court before passing to sharpshooter, Tim Brown. Brownie passed on a decent look from the perimeter to hit Dave Newell on the blocks as the clock neared zero. Bethel fans stormed the court when Newell's short caromed off the side of the backboard...but the refs called a foul! Newell, a 67 percent FT shooter, drained both to earn a controversial win and start the historic postseason run.

(It was the correct call…but a terrible way to end a great game.)

"Every newspaper in the country has picked us to finish last. The local press seems to think we'd save everyone a lot of time and trouble if we just went out and shot ourselves. Me, I'm for wasting sports writers' time. So, I'd like to hang around and see if we can give 'em all a nice big sh**burger to eat." — Lou Brown

Stevens Point was the best team we played that year, and it's not close. Warm-ups literally slowed to a crawl as we marveled at their size. Their skill also became evident shortly after the jump ball in the second-round game.

Did we have a chance? Honestly, I wasn't sure. The imposing Quandt Fieldhouse didn't provide any extra confidence, either. But then a funny thing happened — we stayed close early and the 50-75 GAC fans packed behind our bench were louder than the 2,000 bored UWSP fans who came expecting to see a blowout. That spirit helped carry us to victory and was our second of five straight wins as the underdog.

Of course, the Pointers used that same blueprint to claim a second-round win the next year on our home court.

"I thought you said we didn't have any high-priced talent?" — Lou Brown
"Forget about Dorn. He's just high priced." — Charlie Donovan

The current top-ranked Tommie team is a potent blend of power, speed and athleticism, but its outlook changes dramatically without the services of Joe Scott. He's the only UST player opposing teams routinely gameplan around, capable of popping 30 on any given night. Tim Brown brought that same dimension to the 2002-03 Gustie team.

Brown, a silky-smooth 6-foot-5 shooter, transferred to GAC after playing two years at Mankato State. A personal tragedy fueled the decision, but he fit in perfectly on the hill — and his game filled our biggest hole on the court. While not our most skilled all-around player, he was the most important guy on the team during this run.

I'm also pretty sure both guys spend a lot of time on their hair, though that's neither here nor there.

"Vaughn, you may be one hell of a pitcher, but you sure ain't much of a dresser. We wear hats and sleeves round here, son." — Lou Brown

GAC coach Mark Hanson wasn't always real strict with his dress code. Unlike recently retired Gustie football coach Jay Schoenebeck, who demanded suit and tie, slacks and a decent shirt were enough on basketball road trips. But what about plane trips? It was a loophole we'd never discussed since it had never happened. That made the trip to Salem, VA interesting.

McNabb, Moss, Neon Deion's old school Falcons jersey and plenty of others made an appearance on the plane, much to Hanson's chagrin. Deion and Moss, worn by yours truly, reappeared the next morning at the hotel for breakfast, allowing the other three teams — who were dressed in matching team gear — a chuckle at our expense. Guess what? The all-you-can-eat buffet was still tasty.

"Call the stewardess, Vaughn. I need one of those bags." — Willie Mays Hayes

The jersey debacle was the smallest of the travel concerns Gustavus faced in traveling east. Let's recount the other ways:

• Two fan buses made the 20-hour trek from Minnesota to Virginia. One broke down early in the trip. Unable to caulk the wagon or ford the river, the convoy simply waited for a replacement to arrive. They arrived in Salem shortly before the semifinal game started, tired but drunk and ready to cheer.

• While staying at the Road Star Inn before playing Stevens Point, 5-foot-11 freshman Adam Hoffarbor — the older brother of this and this guy — challenged 6-foot-6 junior Adam Thorson to a wrestling match. One room was cleared for the match...which ended in about five seconds after Thorson bodyslammed Hoff. Let's just say it was a little more intense than this, uh, bickering between brothers.

• There is no direct flight from Minneapolis to Salem. Instead, a stop at Philadelphia is needed. Thus, the return schedule was the same — and we got stuck on a 30-ish passenger plane with propellers vaguely reminiscent of the beater the Indians used in Major League. Plenty of puking jokes were made as we boarded the plane, mostly by Adam Tebrake. He sat at the back of the plane between Trent Hollerich and Matt Royer, whose heads were both soon buried in the barf bags on the bumpy ride. His taunting lasted for about five minutes before he found a barf bag of his own. It was the start of a long trip home.

"You know, you might think about taking Jesus Christ as your savior instead of fooling around with all this stuff." — Eddie Harris

We brought out everything but the lucky rabbit's foot for our run to Salem. It started in the blowout win over the Tommies when a few crazy Gustie fans made a "Golden Ticket" sign comparing my unruly hair to that of Gene Wilder's as Willy Wonka. I needed to visit a barber in the worst way, but couldn't crop things while we were still winning. Fortunately — or unfortunately, as the case may be — we kept winning and the date with the barber kept getting pushed back. The others followed my lead, making for a bunch of floppy-haired scrubs in the MIAC's first visit to the title game.

I'm really not sure how it started, but the obscure rap song "We ready" by Archie Eversole became the postseason battle cry for a bunch of largely rural white boys from Minnesota. When it came on during warm-ups in the national semifinal game against Hampden-Sydney, we knew we were set. I realize this doesn't make any sense, but I've got the song on my iPod to this day. Let's just move on.

There's a very real chance that I played more video games in my collegiate career than anyone in the history of Gustavus. Did a week away from home cut into that habit? Actually, not at all. The NCAA set up a hospitality room in our hotel with three enormous TVs, two of which were set up with Playstations. There were also two arcade-style video games in the corner, with a courtesy table full of food and drinks on the other end.

Needless to say, I was in heaven — or at least I would have been, if we'd have finished the deal. I'm going to go cry now.