<?xml version="1.0" encoding="ISO-8859-1"?>
<BODY.CONTENT>
<UID>
8601070232
</UID>
<PUBLICATION>
DETROIT FREE PRESS
</PUBLICATION>
<DATE>
860211
</DATE>
<TDATE>
Tuesday, February 11, 1986
</TDATE>
<EDITION>
METRO FINAL
</EDITION>
<SECTION>
SPT
</SECTION>
<PAGE>
1D
</PAGE>
<ILLUSTRATION>

</ILLUSTRATION>
<CAPTION>

</CAPTION>
<BYLINE>
MITCH ALBOM
</BYLINE>
<AFFILIATION>

</AFFILIATION>
<MEMO>

</MEMO>
<COPYRIGHT>
Copyright (c) 1986, Detroit Free Press
</COPYRIGHT>
<HEADLINE>
IT'S NO JOKE -- DETROIT HAS A TEAM ON TOP OF PILE
</HEADLINE>
<SUBHEAD>

</SUBHEAD>
<CORRECTION>

</CORRECTION>
<BODY>
You can come out now. Take the paper bag off your head. Put the phone back
on the hook. All is well.
Detroit has a first-place team.

  Say what?
  "I think we can go all the way," says the  star player.
  All the way? Did you hear that? Forget those Pistons programs you shredded
in the blender. And the Red Wings hockey stick you smashed across your
forehead when they lost, what was it,  86-0? Relax. Rejoice. All is well.
  Detroit has a first-place team.
  Say what?
  "It took a lot of hard work, but we are rolling," says the coach. "It's in
our hands now."
  Did you hear that?  They are rolling. Mid-winter blues, be gone. They are
rolling. What snow? What dead battery? They are rolling. Throw on a pair of
cut-offs and skip to work. There's a bluebird on your shoulder. Look.  Over
there. A rainbow. They are rolling.
  Detroit has a first-place team.
  And here they are. Shooting basketballs in the empty echoes of a college
arena, under a logo that looks like something  out of Captain Neptune's Fish
and Chips and Used Auto Parts Outlet.
  The mighty Titans of U of D.
  That's, uh, University of Detroit.
  We're No. 1.
  Hi, mom.
Coach's name is Sicko
  This  is a team that gets on Channel 62. Sometimes. A team that plays on
Monday nights, so it won't have to compete for attention with Michigan or
Michigan State. A team with a coach named Sicko. Don Sicko  (pronounced
SEE-ko). Although it's sometimes pronounced CY-ko. Like Psycho. Which doesn't
help when they're on the road. You can imagine what people yell. Can't you
imagine?
  But this is a first-place  team.
  First place in the Midwestern Collegiate Conference. Or, to friends, the
MCC.
  Say what?
  "Enthusiasm is coming back to U of D," says Greg Wendt, the team's
second-leading scorer. He  transferred here from Duke. Mighty Duke. No. 2 in
the country Duke. He transferred?
  "If I'd have stayed at Duke, I'd be on Wall Street or somewhere by now," he
says. "I like it here. I'm getting  to play."
  And over there is Kevin McAdoo. The point guard. Big assist man. Some
nights the only crowd noise he has to worry about is the sneakers squeaking.
Wouldn't he rather be playing in the Bigger  Big Time?
  "We're pretty proud of what we've done here," he says. "A few years ago the
program was really down." 
  A few years ago, it was down and almost out. In 1982, 800 people showed up
for  the U-D home finale. They didn't take their seats, they took their
sections. The school was thinking of dropping down to Division III. Or maybe
dropping basketball altogether.
  Now, first place. A  7-1 conference record. A shot at  the MCC title for
the first time --  and a chance of making it into the NCAA tournament, where
anything can happen.
  Here, in the winter of our discontent, when  our pro teams range from
mediocre to mercy-killing, they are, let's face it, these U-D Titans, well . .
. the Kings of the City.
  Say what?
Urban renewal at its best
  "Switch sides," yells coach  Sicko. He is watching practice from behind a
wooden table alongside the court. The press box.
  "We never complain about the amount of attention we do or don't get," he
says. "We get what we earn."
  This is an urban school with urban digs. No rolling hills. No lazy bicycle
riders. No bluebirds.  The coach does  have the team over to his house in the
suburbs every few weeks for a nachos party.  They eat, watch some TV. Watch
some of those bigger-name teams.
  "All 11 of these kids are local," he says. So they know where they stand.
They know about the Wolverines and Spartans and Pistons and  Red Wings. They
know that to most people, they are the TV dinner on the Michigan sports menu.
  They know playing Evansville is not like playing North Carolina. But
they've had their moments. They  put a scare into Kansas, and Kansas is ranked
No. 3 in the country. They beat Xavier twice, and Xavier was 18-4 as of
Monday.
  Besides, right now they are the only team with "Detroit" in its name  that
is on top of a pile, at least one that doesn't smell. That counts for
something. 
  And so people in Boston and Chicago and LA will please understand why we in
the Motor City who have taken a  fair amount of abuse in recent weeks would
like to say just one more thing while we still can:
  Yaaaah! We're No. 1! Wooooooooh!
  Ah. That felt good.
</BODY>
<DISCLAIMER>

</DISCLAIMER>
<KEYWORDS>
DREDWINGS;HOCKEY;BASKETBALL;U-D;STATISTIC;DPISTONS;COLUMN;Pistons;Red Wings
</KEYWORDS>
</BODY.CONTENT>
