A Lasting Memory

Whenever I enter Gersten Pavilion, I look at that spot on the floor.

Ten years ago today, Hank Gathers collapsed there, then died after he was carried from the court on a stretcher. No amount of time, it seems, will erase the memory of that horrible scene.

An eerie silence engulfed the sold-out gymnasium. We all stood silent, afraid to voice our worst fears.

Moments before collapsing, Gathers had sent the crowd into a frenzy with a two-handed dunk. We high-fived, whistled and screamed. Another rout was on, we thought.

Then Gathers became woozy. He staggered sideways toward the bench, then crashed to the floor.

Utter silence.

Brian Berger and Keith Foreman were broadcasting the game on the campus radio station.

“It was like we were in church and we were the only ones talking,” Berger said.

A priest fainted in the lower section across the court, causing more commotion, but most eyes were fixed on Gathers, who had begun a frightening twitching. The situation grew scarier when the twitching stopped.

Gathers was carried off the court and the game was canceled.

People left, hoping for the best, fearing the worst.

Within an hour or so, they knew Gathers had died. Many heard it on television. I heard it on a car radio as I drove from campus toward Playa del Rey.

In the eyes of many, Gathers and the basketball team were Loyola Marymount. The high-octane brand of basketball Loyola played had given us an identity. We no longer had to explain who we were.

UCLA, the mecca of college basketball, is 10 minutes up the freeway. The Lakers, one of the NBA’s most honored franchises, played a few miles down Manchester Avenue.

But tiny Loyola Marymount ruled the Los Angeles basketball scene that year. If you told someone you went to Loyola, you had to be prepared to talk basketball.

When Gathers died, he took a piece of our identity with him.

Gathers died on a Sunday. Monday and Tuesday, many classes were canceled and the campus was quiet.

Wednesday, there was a memorial service in Gersten. More people attended than had ever been at a game, yet the eerie silence seemed even quieter.

Andy Marafino, a Loyola graduate student at the time, was assistant director of sports information that year. He had become close to Gathers and remembered Hank’s inclination to declare himself “the strongest man in America.”

Marafino walked past the open casket at the memorial service, barely able to look.

“I took a quick glance for maybe a second or two and then I couldn’t look anymore,” he said. “I didn’t want to see him like that. I wanted to remember him as the strongest man in America.”

Bo Kimble, Gathers’ childhood friend and teammate, took the microphone to deliver a eulogy.

When he finished, he asked the crowd to cheer Gathers once more.

“One last applause, in his house,” Kimble invited.

It started as polite clapping, but crescendoed to a full-blown, foot-stomping frenzy.

Then it went on for three weeks in that magical run through the NCAA tournament.

Kimble played with four fouls most of the New Mexico State game, yet finished with 45 points and 18 rebounds. Jeff Fryer lit up defending national champion Michigan with 11 three-point baskets. And, of course, Kimble made four left-handed free throws to honor Gathers, who had taken up left-handed free-throw shooting in an effort to improve his percentage.

Some said Gathers was still there during that run. The players wore black patches on their uniforms with Hank’s number, 44. Fans held signs and chanted, “Forty-four! Forty-four!”

But walking into Long Beach Arena, seeing the team in uniform for the first time after Gathers’ death was a shocking realization.

When the team advanced to Oakland, Interstate 5 carried a caravan of emotionally charged Loyola students packed into cars with “Hank hankies” hanging in windows or Gathers’ No. 44 written on their cars in shaving cream.

The run, which ended with a loss to Nevada Las Vegas, the eventual national champion, is what people remember most. That’s what many talk about. But Gathers wasn’t there. That’s what I remember.

Gathers’ story soon became contaminated because of lawsuits about heart machines called defibrillators and medication called Inderal, but we didn’t care about that stuff. Loyola Marymount with Gathers was a better memory.

His was a game of desire, sweat, outworking opponents. He had led the nation in scoring and rebounding the season before. He made games fun with his array of post moves, tenacious rebounding and ferocious dunks.

I saw those things dozens of times. What I remember most, I saw only once.

It happened on that spot in Gersten. Gathers’ death and the following three weeks taught me more than any class I ever took at Loyola. I learned how to deal with loss, how to move on, how to remember.

So every time I return to that gym I look to that spot, I see Hank Gathers and I remember.

Every time.

Peter Yoon was in his third year at Loyola Marymount University when Hank Gathers died. He regularly attended basketball games while a student there.