From the Editor:  This is the fifth in a series of  short essays from A Sea of Blue member oldcat'69, who played as a walk-on on Kentucky's freshman team in 1965-66 during the Adolph Rupp era.

“Once you’ve played ball at Kentucky, it’s either your primary or secondary home.”

-- Joe B. Hall

“. . . the best recruiter ever at Kentucky, without a doubt.” (paraphrased)

-- FortyYearCatFan

Hall simply beat other teams up with physical play and the officials let him get away with it. Hall’s philosophy was to have all five players foul at once since the officials could only call one foul at a time (paraphrased)

-- Sonny Smith, Former Auburn Coach

In my opinion, the quotes above are all right on the money, although I fail to see how a man who coached Charles Barkley in college can comment on anyone else’s physical play. Looking at it a different way, if you have a team of Clydesdales, are you going to run them in the Derby or hook them up to a plow?

In truth, the freshman team of ’65-66 saw less of Coach Hall than we did Coach Lancaster. Hall was frequently out recruiting or scouting, but when he was in town, he was involved with our practices. On at least two road trips, to Paducah Junior College and Dayton, he was the only coach who traveled with us. The varsity had games at other places those particular nights.

Coach Hall was on the almost the exact same book as Coach Hall and Coach Rupp. His coaching patterns were very similar, as far as I could see. The substitution pattern, however, was a bit different. Even later, when he was the head coach, Joe Hall would not say a word to a player coming out of the game. He was of the “one mistake and you’re out” school, and he would let the offending player go sit on the bench without a word of correction.

While it probably wasn’t true of us walk-ons, any scholarship varsity player at Kentucky probably has enough potential to be taught something when he’s made a mistake, especially if the coach strikes while the iron is hot. Of course, I’m talking about real instruction, not yelling and screaming, although that has its place, too. Mark that paragraph down as “opinion”, counselor.

Nevertheless, Coach Hall had a sincerity that made you believe he actually might care something about you, even if you were a walk-on. I think that is what made him such a good recruiter. I certainly never saw him on a recruiting visit, but he had the touch to get great players, both for Coach Rupp and for himself. Now, Coach Rupp might have thought that anyone could recruit a player to play for the Wildcats, but it wasn’t so. As a recruiter, no one was better than Joe B. Hall.

On our trip to Dayton, Coach Hall put me into the game several minutes into the first half. On about the second trip down the floor, I was open from just outside the left elbow and took about a 17 foot shot. It was one of those that rattled around forever, then came out. Now, Coach Lancaster had never told me anything when he put me in other than, “If you get a shot, take it.”

Coach Hall must have missed that conversation, however, because at the next time out, he kinda got into my face and said, “’Oldcat’, didn’t Coach Lancaster tell you to make a few trips up and down the floor to get into the flow before you take a shot?” I didn’t answer at the time, but I always wanted to send him a letter in his retirement in Cynthiana and tell him my version of the story.

Coach Hall probably suffered in the eyes of the faithful because he had neither the witty sarcasm of Adolph Rupp nor the flamboyance of Rick Pitino. Certainly, he was no sparkling personality. His flat presentations in interviews with the media produced few one-liners for an industry eager for sound-bites.

But what kind of coach was Joe B. Hall? What does the record say? Thirteen years as head coach, one national championship, three Final Fours, one national Coach of the Year, four times SEC Coach of the Year, eight SEC titles, seven players named All-American a total of 11 times, nine players all-SEC totaling 18 selections, 23 players drafted into the NBA, five in the first round, and a winning percentage of .748.

Not bad for a guy who many Wildcat fans consider a lesser light in the constellation. Ask yourself this: How many other guys who have followed the basketball coaching legends have even approached this record?

From the Editor:  This is the fifth in a series of  short essays from A Sea of Blue member oldcat'69, who played as a walk-on on Kentucky's freshman team in 1965-66 during the Adolph Rupp era.

“ . . .baseball coach Harry Lancaster. Harry would never accept failure or losing, had a temper which matched his physical strength, and a gentle sense of humor on those rare appropriate situations. He had a memory like an elephant. Any mistakes a player made in his career was summarized for all to hear.”

Ray Buehl, UK BSEE ‘63, Wildcat baseball player

Ah, yes, Harry Lancaster. Depending on who you listened to, he was either the brains behind Coach Rupp’s success--he came onboard, after all, in 1946, just before Adolph won his first NCAA championship--or an ingrate who connived to get the AD job, thereby jumping from Rupp’s assistant to his boss.

In my mind, he was neither. From what I saw, and I overheard almost no private conversations between the two, but did hear quite a few semi-public ones, he was a sounding board, confidant, and friend who was allowed to voice his own opinions to the boss. In short, a trusted, honest and loyal assistant. He had one more characteristic that ensured his long tenure as second in command: his ego was considerably less inflated that Coach Rupp’s. I don’t think he minded not being on center stage.

Don’t get me wrong. Harry Lancaster knew basketball. In fact, he knew a LOT of basketball. In addition to having a pretty darned good big picture grasp of the game, he provided what little individual instruction the players received in practice.

With the “simple but complex” nature of the UK offensive patterns under Coach Rupp, Harry’s role as a freshman coach (in the years of three-year eligibility, remember) was much more important than that of many assistant coaches today. He was the one who taught the first-year players how to run the offensive patterns and what was expected of them when they got to the varsity. He was the one who introduced them to the second-guard plays, numbered five through ten, and he was the one who drilled them until they knew the plays in their sleep.

After a year with Harry, nobody had to call out a number or hold up some fingers. The players knew that if the ball went to the high post and the guard cut close by the center on the opposite side, it was “five”. And if the ball went to the forward on the side and the guard cut by the post on the strong side, it was “6”, and so forth. He also knew the many options and ad-lib moves that were available off each play, and he knew that shots would be available if the plays were run correctly. Simply stated, and not overstated, Harry laid the foundation on which the varsity teams were built.

Okay, here are some stories about Harry. Unlike the other anecdotes I’ve told, I didn’t observe the first one. In fact, I’ve read a couple of different versions of the first and it’s as much a Coach Rupp story as it is about Harry.

In Coach Rupp’s first game at UK, the Wildcats played nearby Georgetown College, whose star player was named Harry Lancaster. At the half, UK led by something like 28-2. In the locker room, the players thought Coach Rupp would be pleased. Instead, he grabbed the clipboard with the first-half stats, stared at it for a minute, then, in his nasal whine, said, “Who’s got that Lancaster? He’s killing us.” That’s right, Harry had the two points. By the way, UK won the game 67-19.

In my freshman year, we played the Vandy frosh in the second semester when we had only two scholarship players, and neither of them was over 6’2”. We were a little behind at the half, and were doing OK from outside, but were getting killed inside by 6’8” Bob Bundy and several other big ‘Dores. Our biggest guy was 6’5’ Tommy Stiggers. Now Tommy was a really great guy, but he made me look fast, and quick, too. So he had little chance against the Vanderbilt front line. In perhaps the most cruel comment I’ve ever heard, Harry, looked at the ever-present clipboard, and then at Tommy and said, “I guess it’s right what they say: you can’t make chicken salad out of chicken shit.”

We stuck with them through a 65-65 tie, then they beat us to death in the last four minutes or so, winning by about 15.

On the other hand, the thing that I prefer to remember about Harry happened in my next-to-last semester. I was having lunch in the old Wildcat Grill across from the Coliseum. Harry and Coach Rupp often had lunch there, and came in while I was eating, taking a table between me and the door. As I walked by, Coach Rupp looked up and got a quizzical look on his face like he had seen me before. Harry turns and looks at me and said, “Hi, ’Oldcat69’, how are your studies going? Are you going to graduate on time?” I said, ”Yes, Sir, thanks for asking.” And he said, “Good luck.” I didn’t have the heart to tell him I was actually on the way to a nine-semester graduation because I had been partying and going to basketball games when I should have been studying.

In the end, I guess Ray Buehl had it right. There was more than one side to Harry Lancaster.

From the Editor:  This is the fourth in a series of  short essays from A Sea of Blue member oldcat'69, who played as a walk-on on Kentucky's freshman team in 1965-66 during the Adolph Rupp era.

“Adolph Rupp is an arrogant man given to sharp repartee and cutting sarcasm. He is awkward in public relations and a genius for saying the wrong thing. He also happens to be the best basketball coach in America.”

Herman Donovan

UK President 1941-1956

Based on my observations in practices and games during one basketball season, President Donovan had it spot on. Coach Rupp was also vain, referring frequently to the basketball instruction book he had written. He possessed the most confidence I’ve ever seen in his own ability to do his job. In my opinion, he viewed that job simply as winning basketball games, and he did it better than anyone before and only three since have done.

There have been far too many words written by more knowledgeable people than myself about Adolph Rupp. Rather than try to add my own assessment of his coaching ability, I’ll just relate a couple of anecdotes that illustrate the man.

During the mid-60s, the teams sat on opposite end-lines rather than on the sidelines as they do now. That presented a problem for Coach Rupp, who wore eyeglasses, but was too vain to wear them other than during a timeout with the team gathered around him, when he had to read the charts.

When a timeout was called, his routine never varied. He stood up, took his glasses out of the inside pocket of his (brown) suit coat, put on the glasses, and buttoned his coat. When the players went back onto the floor, he reversed the procedure, unbuttoning the coat, putting the glasses in the pocket, and sitting down.

One night, the Cats had the ball in front of our own bench, but were shooting on the other end. A timeout was called and Coach Rupp went through his usual sartorial routine. After the timeout, the team in-bounded the ball, went down the floor, and ran exactly the play Coach Rupp had recommended, scoring a layup as a result. He jumped to his feet, almost knocking his chair into my lap (the freshman team sat behind the varsity) and yelled, “Damn nice play!!” Then he sat down, turned to Coach Lancaster and said, “Who was that, Harry?”

At varsity practice one day, the late Tommy Kron, had been screwing up by the numbers during a scrimmage. Now, Tommy would regularly do that and then go out and play an inspired game the next day, proving that practice isn’t always a good predictor of game play. (Do you hear me, BCG?)

Coach Rupp stopped the scrimmage, walked out to the center circle, and, when the team had dutifully gathered around him, turned to Tommy and said, “Son, one of these days I’m going to write a book on how NOT to play this game, and I’m going to devote the first 300 pages to you.”

On another occasion, the varsity had a Saturday night away game somewhere, and the freshman team traveled to the western end of the state to play Paducah Junior College at the same time. This presented a problem, since freshman coach Harry Lancaster needed to be in two places at the same time. The solution was for Coach Hall to travel with the freshmen.

This was during the second semester, when we had only two scholarship players, and we got soundly defeated. After the game, Coach Hall took us to a restaurant recommended by the PJC coach and we had dinner, with most of us opting for steak.

At Monday afternoon’s practice, Coach Rupp questioned Coach Hall about the bill for the dinner, and I happened to be in earshot. It went like this: “Did you take the freshman team out for steaks Saturday night?” “Yes, sir, I did, after the game.” “Well, Harry and I took the varsity out for fried chicken, and, HELL, WE WON!”

You draw your own conclusions.

From the Editor:  This is the third in a series of  short essays from A Sea of Blue member oldcat'69, who played as a walk-on on Kentucky's freshman team in 1965-66 during the Adolph Rupp era.

Bob Tallent was aptly named! The boy could shoot the eyes out of the basket. He wasn’t very fast, and he wasn’t very tall, and he couldn’t jump very high, but he could shoot! He was a third-string sophomore on the Rupp’s Runts team in ’65-’66.

As the Runts’ first string was working on a 1-3-1 zone one day, Tallent, on the opposition, kept getting the ball on the right baseline in the very corner. And he kept hitting jump shots, one after the other. He made at least seven in a row. It might have been eight or more, but I counted the last six, and he’d already made one or two before I started. Every single one of them would have been threes today. I was impressed.

Someone else was impressed, too. Coach Rupp stopped the scrimmage, walked out to the free throw circle, gathered the team around him and said, “Son, I’ve been coaching this game for over 30 years, and that’s the best exhibition of shooting I’ve ever seen.” Then, he got on the first string for not figuring out how to stop Bob from getting the shot.

So, if Bob was that good, why didn’t he get more playing time and why isn’t his number retired in Rupp Arena? Well, he was a bit of a free spirit, and he didn’t like to play defense all that much. Coach Rupp really didn’t like free spirits, probably because he didn’t understand them. And he really, really wasn’t fond of guys who didn’t like to play defense.

Some time later that year in a practice, Coach Rupp had stopped a scrimmage to make a comment about what was going on. Bob Tallent happened to have had the ball when play was stopped, so he just curled it under his hand and sort of trapped it at his waist, just like millions of players have done hundreds of millions of times. Unfortunately for Bob, however, he decided, as Coach Rupp was still talking, to roll the ball off his waist and take one dribble. Which made noise, which interrupted Coach Rupp, which ticked him off, which resulted in Bob getting kicked out of practice the rest of the day.

The next year, Bob was released from the team and eventually transferred to George Washington, where he played and eventually coached (Forty, how many years?). I was not allowed in to practice that year, since my usefulness to the program, limited as it was, had expired the year before, so I don’t personally know what transpired between them. I do seem to remember, however, that it involved lack of playing time. I also remember that Bob’s mother later stated that no other boy from the eastern part of the state would ever go to UK again, presaging Alex Legion’s mom, I guess.

From the Editor:  This is the second in a series of  short essays from A Sea of Blue member oldcat'69, who played as a walk-on on Kentucky's freshman team in 1965-66 during the Adolph Rupp era.

Under Coach Rupp, varsity practice was from 2:00 to 4:00 every weekday and freshman practice followed and lasted until about 6:00.

Not only was the time firmly established, but each practice was closely scripted. While I wasn’t privileged to see the daily schedule, Coach Rupp had a detailed game plan for every practice to work on specific issues he thought were most important at the time. First, there was a shoot-around for about 30 minutes, but after that, it was 13 minutes of this, 22 minutes of that, 11 minutes of the other, and so forth.

In addition to the tight schedule, there was no doubt who was in control. Both Coach Rupp and Coach Harry Lancaster, his longstanding Sancho Panza, were there most of the time, dressed in their khaki pants and shirt and basketball shoes. Coach Joe B. Hall, in his first year as the "Assistant Freshman Coach" (read: head recruiter) was there if he wasn’t on the road.

For the life of me, I can’t remember whether Coach Rupp used a whistle to control practice or not, but it wouldn’t have made any difference if he did or not. When he said something, everything stopped and you could have heard a pin drop. Questions were mostly rhetorical. No one would have dared answer, "Why didn’t you keep running that play when it worked three straight times before?" delivered in his nasal tones, dripping with sarcasm.

Not everything was negative motivation, however. Often, Coach Rupp or Harry would give some specific instructions as to positioning or thought process, or what to look for on a particular play, but, to my memory, almost never instruction on individual skills. The players were expected to see to their own skill development during the shoot-arounds.

I’ll discuss Coach Rupp’s offensive system in detail in another installment, but suffice to say it involved a lot of motion and a lot of picks, both moving and stationary. Despite what many believe, free-lancing was encouraged, within the overall flow of the offense. A back-door cut, for instance would never be chastised if the player followed through with it and cleared his defensive man out of the flow of the play, even if he didn’t get the ball and/or score.

And fast breaks, oh, my goodness, the fast breaks. The quickest way to get yelled at if you were a Kentucky player was to have a man (or two) advantage and not push the ball up the floor. Coach Rupp simply believed that everyone should be able to handle almost any role on the fast break. Okay, maybe you wouldn’t want Thad Jaracz to be running the middle dribbling the ball, but he could do it if that’s what worked out. And the other four guys were masters at it. Riley, Dampier, Conley, and the late Tommy Kron could all handle the ball, and they all had better hit the open man if they wanted to stay out of trouble.

Some younger people have the idea that all basketball pre-Pitino was a slow, methodical process involving five minutes of figure-8 weaving before someone took a two-handed set shot. It wasn’t so. The Rupp’s Runts team, with no starter taller than 6’5", were ball-handling wizards. Riley was the only one who was a really great athlete, but the teamwork and economy of motion made them a thing of beauty to watch. And it all started in those scripted practices.

From the Editor:  This is the first in a series of  short essays from A Sea of Blue member oldcat'69, who played as a walk-on on Kentucky's freshman team in 1965-66 during the Adolph Rupp era.

This first part is autobiographical in nature, and future parts will relate the author's experiences as part of that team, and provide insights into many aspects of the Golden Age of Kentucky basketball and the legendary coaching staff.  I hope you enjoy oldcat'69's recollections.

About the Author:

I’m a farm boy who got a one-year ringside seat in the college basketball "holy of holies." My high school coach Harold Ross was, by his own admission, the thirteenth man on the first twelve on the UK NCAA champions of 1958. He was hired to be our coach immediately after graduation from UK and was my coach and family friend until I graduated UK and went into the Air Force.

As a high school player, I was an excellent shooter and good ball-handler who was way too timid in putting up shots. I also had, and may still have, the single-game and season assist record for my high school. But, like a lot of 6’1" guards around in my day, I had a fatal flaw—"white man’s disease," although we didn’t have a name for it at the time. Actually, like the beginnings of AIDS (which is not a joking matter), I may have been the origin of the disease, although others had had the symptoms in earlier years, I had a full-blown case. The good news in high school was that most of the guys I played against also were poor athletes, so we all deluded ourselves into believing that we could play just ‘cause we could shoot the eyes out of the basket. (Still can, by the way, but the new three-point line is stretching an old man’s range a bit.)

Beginnings

When I enrolled in UK, Coach Ross suggested I go over to Memorial Coliseum a few days before October 15 and ask how to go about trying out for the freshman team (All you young folks remember, freshmen could not play on the varsity then!) as a walk-on. He knew, as I did not then, that Coach Rupp typically recruited freshman scholarship players fairly heavily every other year, and ’65-66 was, thankfully for me, a light year.

So, I did. I was told to report back on October 15 at 4:00 in the afternoon with a pair of basketball shoes. I’m not sure how many other walk-ons there were, but I think the number was around 15 to go with the five scholarship players (Bobby Hiles, Phil Argento, Gerry Guter, Alvin Ratliff, and, for the life of me, I can’t remember the other guy’s name, although I can see his face in my memory. Maybe FortyYearCatFan can help.).

Anyway, we shot around for 25 minutes or so and freshman coach Harry Lancaster and his first-year assistant Joe B. Hall came out onto the floor after watching us and gathered us around the free throw circle. They proceeded to ask our names and where we went to high school. The process went smoothly until I told them my name and that I went to Todd County Central. At that point, Coach Lancaster stopped and said, "That’s one of our boys, Harold Ross, coaching that team. You should know all our plays." Not being sure if that made me a marked man or not, I replied, "Yes, Sir, I do." As it turned out, that single fact was a great advantage to me as we began practice.

Once the team was pared down to 12 or 13 players, we began learning to run the traditional 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, and 10 plays Rupp had used for years. Basically, it was a "second guard" offense (that was who was designed to get the first shot opportunity) that involved a lot of motion and a lot of picks, both stationary and moving. (Note: I suppose that having a background with basic pick and roll basketball is what frustrates me about today’s game when many players don’t even know which way to roll when they do manage to set a (usually ineffective) pick. And don’t get me started about a guy who dribbles the other way when one of his teammates sets a pick for him. Sheesh!!!!!)

At any rate, having a seven-year, since fifth grade, knowledge of those plays made me look fairly good among the other walk-ons, so I ended up being the sixth man in the first few games on the freshman schedule. Hiles and Argento were the guards, and, while I didn’t get a lot of "PT, BABY," I did get to play in each of our pre-holiday games, scoring a few points. As an aside, the only real instruction that Coach Lancaster ever gave me as he put me in was, " . . .if you get a shot, take it." This would become important to me in a later game.

We really didn’t have a very good team; perhaps it was the worst freshman team in Rupp’s history. It certainly was the worst freshman record, at 5-10, but even with the scholarship players, we really weren’t that hot. Argento was pretty good, but, except for Ratliff, the rest of the scholarship players weren’t UK caliber for one reason or another.

At the end of the first semester, at the Christmas break, three of the scholarship players failed to make grades, so we were left with Hiles and Argento and a bunch of us slugs for the second semester. Unfortunately for me, both those guys were guards, so I was still the sixth man, doggone it!!!

Because of the shallow talent pool and because they really weren’t much interested in developing anyone but Phil Argento for the varsity, a few of our second semester road trips were cancelled and we ended up playing only 15 games. I’ll discuss some of them later.

If it sounds like I was a little awed by the whole process, I was. I had figured out that I had to run just to stand still in this world of college basketball the first time I was paired one-on-one with Alvin Ratliff at practice. Alvin, you see, was possibly the second-best player in the state the previous year, after Butch Beard. I really hadn’t had a heck of a lot of trouble with my high school teammates one-on-one, but Alvin ate my lunch. So, I kinda figured out that I wasn’t going to be the magic walk-on that was asked to play on the varsity.

I also realized that I was privileged to be witnessing something pretty special when the Runts climbed the rankings to No. 1 and stayed there. I’ll write about each of them later, but suffice to say they were the definition of team chemistry. And, unlike our current crop, they could handle the ball. Ten turnovers in a game would have sent Coach Rupp into apoplexy.

I was fortunate not to have a class from 2:00-4:00 PM either semester. That’s when the varsity practiced, and freshmen players were allowed to watch varsity practice, so that’s what I did. I watched and listened to the greatest coach in the game, up to that point, as he taught, cajoled, prodded, cussed, embarrassed, and, yes, led, his team to the national championship game. I was a bit player, but I walked several steps behind him for a very few days on his "Glory Road."

I was completely in awe of where I was, even as I got familiar with my situation and the whole process of being there. A little ol’ farm boy who used to listen to Claude Sullivan and then Cawood describe Hatton, Crigler, Nash, Baesler, and a lot of the other heroes on the radio was now on the floor where they played. It was almost breathtaking.

You younger folks will never know how it felt to turn on the AM radio and hear "Hello, everybody. This is Cawood Ledford, and KENTUCKY BASKETBALL is on the air," but to us, it was the greatest thing in the world.