NCAA BASKETBALL TOURNAMENT : The Lions Played to Their Strength

Locker rooms are places where basketball players put on their game faces, much the same way actors apply lipstick and rouge. The locker room is where the late Hank Gathers used to strut around flexing and hailing himself as “the strongest man in the world,” which was his way of donning his game face, a look of self-confidence supreme.

Without him, the men of Loyola Marymount had a decision to make Friday night--which game faces to wear. Like classical thespians, they had to choose between the mocking mask of comedy or the weeping mask of tragedy. Already their uniforms were embroidered with an encircled “44” in tribute to their fallen friend, and their sneakers bore felt-penned slogans similar to Terrell Lowery’s, which read: “44-EVER.” From the neck down, they were ready.

And their faces? Well, inside a brightly lit locker room of Long Beach Arena, in the slowly ticking minutes before an NCAA tournament game against New Mexico State, it was obvious that Loyola’s Lions had elected to lighten up, to leave their sorrows behind. Tragedy tomorrow, basketball tonight.

There was more than a trace of a smile on Coach Paul Westhead’s relaxed face, and pinned to a wall behind him was a good-luck greeting card signed and sent by the basketball team of Westhead’s college alma mater, St. Joseph’s of Philadelphia. His players did their level best to relax. Their tear ducts had dried up. They decided instead to come out happy and howling, doing a typically school-boyish cheer that referred to kicking the other team where it sat.

And out the Lions came, to the reception of an audience waving Hank Hankies and handmade banners and pennants and jerseys and anything and everything that reminded them of the man who was missing. Loyola’s players limbered up, shot some shots, dodged TV cameramen who aimed at them from above and below, then huddled together at center court for one last show of Loyola loyalty, to hold hands.

A sign at courtside read:

THE STRONGEST TEAM IN THE WORLD.

And they set out to live up to it. Larger teams, more muscular teams, bigger-biceped teams--such as the Michigan monsters lurking around the corner for the winner of Loyola’s regional game--could honestly say that they were stronger than the Lions physically. But emotionally? Who in college basketball could be stronger than Loyola’s players emotionally, considering the events of the last couple weeks?

A jump ball finally gave them a chance to show whether their heads were truly going to be in the game this night, and next thing anybody knew, the wizards of Westchester were taking out every ounce of frustration and exasperation and anger on New Mexico State, running and gunning and rebounding, coming at the Aggies from every direction, opening up a 9-0 advantage so fast the scorekeeper’s hand must have shook.

You knew it wouldn’t last, couldn’t last. You knew that this was sudden and savage, strictly a burst of pent-up energy that had to be let loose sometime, let loose on some poor someone. And sure enough, Loyola Marymount’s feet finally started touching the floor again. New Mexico State came back, made a game of it, reminded Loyola there was work to do.

The score was tied at halftime. Loyola, you said to yourself, might not have any energy left, any emotion left. Might not have much of anything left.

But you forgot that you were watching The Strongest Team in the World here. You forgot what made Westhead’s team tick, the full-court pressing and the perpetual fast-breaking and the shoot-now-pay-later, have-guns-will-travel approach to playing that has put the little Catholic school on college basketball’s map.

By the time Bo Kimble was able to fulfill his mission--his left-handed free throw as homage to Hank--the score was 66-50 and climbing. Pow! Three-pointer by Jeff Fryer. Wham! Steal by Tony Walker. Bam! Basket by Chris Knight. You had to count the bodies again, just to be sure Loyola wasn’t playing New Mexico State 6-against-5.

The Lions did everything they came to do. They came, they played, they proved that life is for the living. They made people smile. They made people’s day. They raised their hands high above their heads, as though expecting somebody from high above to reach down and give them five. He would have if he could have.

It was his kind of game, the kind of game at which Loyola Marymount excels, the kind of game we have come to expect--and hope to see more of--from a team we will gladly recognize, from this day , as The Strongest Team in the World.