9001110964
DETROIT FREE PRESS
900324
Saturday, March 24, 1990
METRO FINAL
1A
Photo WILLIAM ARCHIE
:
Michigan State's Ken Redfield passes the ball to teammate Mark
Montgomery, right, Friday during MSU's 81-80 overtime loss
to Georgia Tech in the NCAA regional semifinal. Page 1B.
MITCH ALBOM
SEE ALSO METRO FINAL CHASER, Page 1A.
Copyright (c) 1990, Detroit Free Press
LATE SHOT OR NOT, A DREAM DIES
NEW ORLEANS -- It was after midnight when the glass slipper finally gave way.
One second. One miserable second. They were that far from another amazing
victory, that far from sleeping on the doorstep of the Final Four. And then a
freshman from New York City let fly a shot that would make any playground
proud, and it fell through the nets and the miracle was on its way out.
Was it good? No. Is it over? Yes. That's what it comes down to. The
replay of that final shot by Kenny Anderson that killed the Spartans' season
clearly showed that it was released after the horn sounded. It was no good;
the Spartans should be playing Sunday, not Georgia Tech.
But such is the nature of officiating and buzzer-beaters. There was plenty
more basketball after that. An entire overtime period. Missed shots and
missed opportunities that could have turned the scoreboard around. But the
truth is, when Anderson's shot sliced through the nets, it sliced through the
heart of the Spartan dream as well.
It went in? Yes. Was it good? No. But that didn't matter to Georgia
Tech. The Yellow Jackets dove into a delirious pile on the floor, figuring it
was a three-pointer and they had won. Even when told there were five minutes
left, they carried that new life with them. And a dazed Spartan team, which
had just about unlaced the gloves, had to string them up and keep fighting.
The magic was gone. Dwayne Stephens, who had hit two big free throws in
the final minute of regulation, threw up an air ball from the baseline. Smith,
who had been brilliant all night, was stripped of the ball as he drove the
lane. After Dennis Scott hit a leaner in the lane to put Tech ahead by one,
the Spartans let four seconds run off the clock before calling time. And
finally, Ken Redfield wound up with the ball, threw up a long prayer, and it
clanged off the rim.
End of season.
End of dream.
"It looked to me like when he released the ball, time was out," said
disappointed Michigan State coach Jud Heathcote of Anderson's shot. "It was
a great basketball game, and we have a great group of kids, but this was a
tough loss for us."
The difference was Anderson. This kid is unbelievable. For most of the
night, it was a showdown between him and Steve Smith, one the playground
legend from the Big Apple, the other the lanky string bean from Detroit. Smith
would worm inside people, bank in a jumper. Anderson would race down court,
stop on a shadow, and bingo! Three points. Smith would soar above people for a
rebound, swiping those long arms, keeping the ball alive. Anderson would poke
at Spartan guards like a stiletto, flicking it loose and streaking away like a
thief.
He stole this one at (actually after) the buzzer.
Of course, the contrast between these teams was pretty sharp before they ever
stepped on the court. The Spartans came in defensive-minded, looking to shut
down, close up, put a lid on the opponents. "It's not that teams don't play
well against us," Heathcote explained. "We just play better defense than
they're used to."
Meanwhile, the Yellow Jackets never met a deficit they didn't like. Their
last six victories were come-from-behind jobs, including a 17-point deficit
that was erased against LSU. How do they do it? Anderson shoots. Brian Oliver
shoots. Scott shoots. Their motto should be "Have guns, never tire."
And then there were the personalities. Heathcote, the old head-banger,
runs a polite, disciplined, well-schooled program where everybody gets some
spotlight but nobody walks around with a gold motto around his neck. Tech, by
comparison, looks like the cast of "Saturday Night Live." Led by the antics
of blarney-stone Georgia Tech coach Bobby Cremins, a street-smart guy from the
Bronx -- the kind of coach who can swoop into New York City and come home
with Anderson, the top high school player in the country last year -- the
Jackets like to call themselves "Lethal Weapon 3." They clown around. They
tease Cremins, they bust his chops. Put it this way: John Salley went to
Tech, played for Cremins, and was one of his favorite guys, shtick and all.
Does that give you an idea?
About the only thing these teams had in common was winning -- and the fact
that people still couldn't believe they were doing it. The Spartans were
picked for no better than fifth in most Big Ten previews, yet won the
conference and a Top 10 national ranking. Tech was supposed to be in
rebuilding year. Yet here were the Yellow Jackets, with a record of 26-6 and
no defeats in March, and here were the Spartans, 28-5, who hadn't lost since
Feb. 1.
Somebody would have to give.
It turned out to be the Spartans. They had intelligently weathered the
Tech shooting threat. They had dominated the inside game, the major weak spot
in the Georgia Tech arsenal. They had done everything they were supposed to
do. They were just shot down. In the end, like Michigan a weekend earlier,
they were shot down by the amazing.
And so they go home, they walk off the Superdome floor dazed. And the
tendency is to feel just awful.
Better to forget the final scene Friday. Take these snapshots with you
instead. Matt Steigenga, the kid with the funny name, popping clean from the
outside. Kirk Manns, who looks like a well-scrubbed Bowery Boy, playing with
that bum foot, burying a three-pointer. Smith, who became hero-in-a- hurry,
all long arms and legs and elbows, a basketball Gumby with a great shot.
Redfield, the senior, playing with the knowledge that any of these games
could be his last as a Spartan, sacrificing what every kid wants, offense, to
become a defensive force that in truth, enabled MSU to get this far. And Mike
Peplowski, the personification of this blue-collar spirit, all thick muscle
and crew cut and unbridled enthusiasm.
And orchestrating them all, Heathcote, Mr. Red In The Face, doing it the
way he's done it for 14 years, hard, fair, clean. If you ever had a doubt
about how good a coach this guy is, just consider what he did with this
squad. What was it even doing here? All those injuries? All those supposedly
better teams in the conference?
Better to remember them that way, happy, victorious. Sure, they're home
for good. Sure the season is over. Even so, no tears here. Only one team wins
the whole thing. The others are graded by how hard they tried, how well they
performed, and how much fun they brought to their fans and themselves. High
marks all around to the men in green. That was some kind of run.
BASKETBALL; MSU; GEORGIA TECH; GAME