Good Memories from of Bama's first NIT...
I remember Alabama's first NIT. The excitement of NYC, the Garden, and all those masses of people on the sidewalk. It was a real honor to be selected and C.M. Newton got 'em there. We drove all the way from Tuscaloosa in the new Subaru I had just bought. Sticker price was $1743.00. Four of us piled up in the blue bomber and headed north. We had about $300.00 hundred dollars between us. That was for gas, food, and lodging. We had no idea where we were going to stay. Going through New Jersey we lost the clutch. A mechanic was a basketball fan. He also liked to gamble. We told him that it was a lock that Alabama would we would beat Manhattan. He gave us the keys to his primo '57 chevy, and told us be careful and bring it back in one piece. We were, in the terminology of the day, now officially cool cats.
We soaked in NYC. Went to team practices, ate corned beef and rye sandwiches, and stayed at the YMCA. The second night we went to an alumni party and met a famous writer from Alabama. He invited us to stay in his Upper East Side apartment. We had hit the jackpot. Free room, and some food to boot. We went to the hotel where the team was staying, and begged an extra ticket for our new friend. In fact, we got five tickets. We gave the four tickets we had in a grateful exchange. Four rows behind our bench would be our place in the palace. Life just didn't get any better than those days. Our friend took the ticket, said he'd never seen Alabama play basketball, and thought it might be fun. We told him that Bear Bryant was going to be there. "Paul is going to be watching the game", he asked. I remember him saying Paul. I'd never heard him referred to by his given name. We obviously ran in different circles.
Our seats were so great an usher actually took us down the seats and gave us one of those "how the hell did you get these seats" looks. I'll be honest I really don't remember a lot of the game. I was young and just giddy to be a part of it all. I was not a cool cat. I was a awestruck kid from the sticks. I do remember Glen Garrett knocking down that jump shot to win the game. If heaven existed and you got a sneak preview that night was for us.
The years have rolled by. Recently, I attended the funeral of my writer friend. He was greatly admired, and had a bunch of big time friends who came to pay their respects. This time I flew on a jet to LaGuardia, took a taxi into town, and stayed at a decent hotel. I couldn't help but think back to that grand adventure four young students had taken decades before. I knew I'd taken step backwards from one of the greatest times in my life.
I took a rental down to Jersey to see if the mechanic who fixed our car was around. His son said he had died, but we laughed at our great bet we'd made with his father. The bet was if he won some money on the game he'd fix our car free. If we lost we'd pay him double. The son asked to come in the office, he had something to show me. There was an old poloroid picture stuck on the wall. There were hundreds of them. They were all photos of his clients. He pointed to the one of four young men, leaning against a Subaru, arms folded, with a look that reminded me that at least for a real short time in life we were cool cats. I wanted to take the photo and show it to my buddies. I didn't. For all I know, the photo is still up on the wall with a rusty thumb tack holding our place in eternity. I miss you three guys.
I remember Alabama's first NIT. The excitement of NYC, the Garden, and all those masses of people on the sidewalk. It was a real honor to be selected and C.M. Newton got 'em there. We drove all the way from Tuscaloosa in the new Subaru I had just bought. Sticker price was $1743.00. Four of us piled up in the blue bomber and headed north. We had about $300.00 hundred dollars between us. That was for gas, food, and lodging. We had no idea where we were going to stay. Going through New Jersey we lost the clutch. A mechanic was a basketball fan. He also liked to gamble. We told him that it was a lock that Alabama would we would beat Manhattan. He gave us the keys to his primo '57 chevy, and told us be careful and bring it back in one piece. We were, in the terminology of the day, now officially cool cats.
We soaked in NYC. Went to team practices, ate corned beef and rye sandwiches, and stayed at the YMCA. The second night we went to an alumni party and met a famous writer from Alabama. He invited us to stay in his Upper East Side apartment. We had hit the jackpot. Free room, and some food to boot. We went to the hotel where the team was staying, and begged an extra ticket for our new friend. In fact, we got five tickets. We gave the four tickets we had in a grateful exchange. Four rows behind our bench would be our place in the palace. Life just didn't get any better than those days. Our friend took the ticket, said he'd never seen Alabama play basketball, and thought it might be fun. We told him that Bear Bryant was going to be there. "Paul is going to be watching the game", he asked. I remember him saying Paul. I'd never heard him referred to by his given name. We obviously ran in different circles.
Our seats were so great an usher actually took us down the seats and gave us one of those "how the hell did you get these seats" looks. I'll be honest I really don't remember a lot of the game. I was young and just giddy to be a part of it all. I was not a cool cat. I was a awestruck kid from the sticks. I do remember Glen Garrett knocking down that jump shot to win the game. If heaven existed and you got a sneak preview that night was for us.
The years have rolled by. Recently, I attended the funeral of my writer friend. He was greatly admired, and had a bunch of big time friends who came to pay their respects. This time I flew on a jet to LaGuardia, took a taxi into town, and stayed at a decent hotel. I couldn't help but think back to that grand adventure four young students had taken decades before. I knew I'd taken step backwards from one of the greatest times in my life.
I took a rental down to Jersey to see if the mechanic who fixed our car was around. His son said he had died, but we laughed at our great bet we'd made with his father. The bet was if he won some money on the game he'd fix our car free. If we lost we'd pay him double. The son asked to come in the office, he had something to show me. There was an old poloroid picture stuck on the wall. There were hundreds of them. They were all photos of his clients. He pointed to the one of four young men, leaning against a Subaru, arms folded, with a look that reminded me that at least for a real short time in life we were cool cats. I wanted to take the photo and show it to my buddies. I didn't. For all I know, the photo is still up on the wall with a rusty thumb tack holding our place in eternity. I miss you three guys.
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