It’s Boys State Basketball Tournament time!
And, oh, the memories. The first state tournament I recollect was the 1971 edition. The most vivid? 1974. And here’s why.
By late February, 1974 my high’s school’s basketball team – the Raymond Central Mustangs — sported a 14 and 5 record and were seeded first in their district tournament. After decisive wins in the first two district games, Raymond Central met Henderson for the championship. It was played in an old gymnasium at Seward Junior High School on a Saturday night. I arrived 45 minutes before tipoff, and the stands were nearly full. The Seward fire chief locked the doors as the game began, and several people peered through windows from an adjoining roof.
Central won the game, 65-63, and qualified for the regional championship. The Mustangs met Wilber-Clatonia the following week at Hickman-Norris High School and blew the Wolverines off the floor, 78-50, to qualify for the state tournament for the first time in the school’s short history.
The Mustangs opened the Class “C” State Tournament with a 58-51 victory over Grant at Lincoln High’s Johnson Gymnasium and would meet the defending state champion Howells Bobcats the next day at the Nebraska Coliseum. THE NU Coliseum! My Mustangs would be playing on the same floor as everyone’s Cornhuskers.
The Central versus Howells game began at two o’clock the afternoon of Friday, March 15. I sat in the tenth row of the bleachers on the east side of the arena at mid-court. Classmates Martin “Beef” Belohlavy sat to my left and Terry Christensen sat behind me. Through the first two-and-a-half quarters, the Mustangs’ Dave Christensen (Terry’s older brother), Jerry Otto, Brian Ubben, Dan Pecka, and Craig Schneider rarely missed a shot, while Howells’ basket came equipped with an imaginary lid.
Central led by more than ten points at halftime, and Terry, Martin, and I were starting to make our plans for Saturday’s championship game, which would be televised by KOLN, Channel 10 in Lincoln. Our mini round table discussion included what type of signs would be manufactured to flash in front of the television cameras. Our plans further developed when the Mustangs took an 18-point lead with about three minutes to play in the third quarter. Then, the bottom fell out. The Howells players began hitting their shots, while Central turned ice-cold. The Bobcats chipped away at what I believed was an insurmountable lead and scored the winning points on an easy lay-up with three seconds left in the game. The clock ran out before Central could get off a shot. Howells won the game, 42-40, and hundreds of Central fans — dressed in blue and gold from head to toe — stood in the foot-wells of the Coliseum’s pre-historic wooden bleachers absolutely stunned.
My younger brother, Darin, was celebrating his 13th birthday that day, but cake and presents were the last things I cared about. I sat in my bedroom and kept replaying the game over and over in my mind, and I couldn’t come up with one shred of evidence that justified Howells’s victory. The very thought of our school not appearing on television when the game had been in the Mustangs’ control for over 24 of the game’s 32 minutes was simply unbearable.
As a 14-year-old sports fan, it was the worst loss of my life. I was devastated.
I was not alone. I learned later that following the game, one of the Mustang players sat on the entrance steps to the Coliseum and cried.
Sports produces many byproducts. They include entertainment, blood, sweat, character, fitness, memories, money – and tears.
Tears, tears and more tears.