Bruins Get a Warning on Pit Stop

All I can advise UCLA at this point is that the most cuckoo upset I have ever seen in college basketball took place right here in the cozy nest with que-que written all over it, Albuquerque, so not taking 1,000-1 shot New Mexico State seriously tonight would be a seriously nutty thing to do.

Nine years ago, there was no way, no way , North Carolina State was going to avoid being initiated into the University of Houston fraternity of Phi Slamma Jamma with a paddling in the 1983 NCAA tournament’s final game.

No way?

Way.

Come on. You remember. An N.C. State not-so-great named Lorenzo Charles--I know what you’re asking: “Whatever became of him?”--snatched an airball out of thin air and deposited it into one of the “Pit” gymnasium’s bottomless peach baskets, gave the Wolfpack the national championship, 54-52, and sent Coach Jim Valvano searching for the Washington Post reporter who said the day State defeated Houston would be the day “elephants learned to tap dance.”

Dumbo.

Truthfully, though, most of us felt that way. That Houston lineup looked like an NBA expansion team. There they were--Clyde Drexler, Akeem Olajuwon, Larry Micheaux, a staggering student body of talent immortalized as Phi Slamma Jamma by Houston sportswriter Thomas Bonk--whatever became of him ?--and two days before, the Cougars eliminated an excellent Louisville team in a game played so high above the rim, the floor must have resembled the Grand Canyon.

After seeing that game, I would have bet the ranch, if I had a ranch, on Houston winning the championship game by about as many points as Nevada Las Vegas would eventually win the 1990 title game over Duke. I cannot honestly say that Houston team wasn’t the greatest scholastic team I ever watched before UNLV came along.

It only goes to show you that talent is not enough. UCLA might have Tracy Murray and Don MacLean, and fans of UCLA might be chortling this morning over the odds being quoted on New Mexico State by characters who do this sort of thing, but anybody who takes an NCAA game for granted is nuts-and-a-half.

Never forget what happened to poor old Guy V. Lewis, coach of those Houston Cougars, who had to endure a school pep rally immediately after the worst loss of his life because he had previously made a commitment to attend--whereas some college coaches have been known to cancel appearances at, oh, team banquets, for example, after a painful defeat.

Ol’ Guy V. never did get himself a championship. Got back to the Final Four a year later but lost again. Retired and preoccupied mostly with tennis, Lewis, who turns 70 today, pushes aside thoughts of 1983 by saying:

“I’m not a look-backer. I don’t mope around about the past.”

In college basketball, however, sometimes the past consumes you. Will anyone who cares about USC ever again mention Georgia Tech’s James Forrest and the last shot fired in the 1992 Trojan war? That’s the sort of thing that can happen to you in a tournament famous for its cruel surprises.

I once spent an entire season traveling with a squad from DePaul that at the forward positions started Terry Cummings and Mark Aguirre and not only failed to win the NCAA championship, but was knocked out in the opening round. Only a year ago, I watched a team that started NBA draftees Larry Johnson, Stacey Augmon and Greg Anthony go down the tubes against a Duke team that graduated . . . who?

A path has been cleared to the Final Four for this season’s outstanding UCLA team, but often this is a road not taken. This could become a team for the ages, or a team that after tonight won’t be “a look-backer,” as Guy V. Lewis would say. New Mexico State isn’t going to like this 1,000-1 business, any more than North Carolina State liked being compared to a dancing elephant.

For its part, Albuquerque is ready. Not since ’83 has the city played host to a sporting event of such nationwide prominence, and a Page 1 piece in Wednesday’s Albuquerque Journal sports section delivered the most mouth-watering news of the tournament so far: “Tourney Fans at Pit Will Drool Over Top-Notch Nachos, Basketball,” informing readers over the course of 20 paragraphs that nachos will be on sale at the arena for the usual price of $1.75, made as always with No. 10 cans of J. Hungerford Smith Sharp Aged Cheddar Cheese Sauce.

That’s all I really wanted to know on this, my first return trip to Albuquerque since the famous upset of Phi Slamma Jamma--oh, except for the fact that I did learn that Lorenzo Charles is now playing for the Raleigh (N.C.) Bulldogs of the Global Basketball Assn., whatever that is.

Some people look back because it’s the best they’ve ever looked.