It was the spring of 1984. I was just three months out of college and starting my career at my hometown newspaper, where I'd worked during school breaks since I graduated from high school. I was young and ambitious and had high hopes of becoming a regional correspondent for the Lexington Herald-Leader as a career goal.
I had planned to start a job search upon my graduation from Morehead State University in December 1983, and had asked my hometown editor-publisher to help me and let me know of any job vacancies. But she had other ideas. She was familiar with my work, having been my boss for summers and Christmas vacations for several years. She was looking to expand coverage in both my hometown and in the neighboring county where she also owned and published the newspaper.
At the time, the local high school's basketball team was one of the best in the state. On top of that, the local school system wasn't getting the same level of coverage as were the city and county governments. My task was to cover sports, school board meetings, and educational issues in my hometown, help with general news coverage in the adjoining county, and take over layout and design of the front pages of both papers.
One of the things I did was to resurrect a sports opinion column that I'd written for a while in the college newspaper, for which I'd won a Kentucky Intercollegiate Press Association award.
So it was in that atmosphere that the University of Kentucky Wildcats completely and utterly collapsed in their 1984 NCAA Tournament national semifinal game against Georgetown.
The game remains a nightmare for longtime UK fans. The Cats led by seven points at halftime, but the Hoyas completely dominated the second half. UK didn't score a point until nearly midway through the final period, and scored only 11 points and made three of 33 field goal attempts in the second half of what became a 53-40 loss.
The Cats languished while the school's all-time leader in field goal percentage, Melvin Turpin, mostly sat on the bench in the second half. Turpin and oft-injured Sam Bowie made up the team's vaunted "Twin Towers" lineup that flailed against Patrick Ewing and "Hoya Paranoia."
Georgetown was the villain of college basketball that year. The team was coached by John Thompson, who seemed to carry a chip on his shoulder as if he was mad at the world. To have them beat my Wildcats was embarrassing, especially when the team squandered the halftime lead and floundered while their best-ever shooter rode the pine for much of the decisive period.
In my mind, only one person was to blame -- the head coach, Joe B. Hall, who died over the weekend at age 93. Hall was the one who failed to make adjustments to the offense. Hall was the one who kept Turpin riding the pine. I was livid.
My sports column the following week was a screed demanding the ouster of Hall as UK's coach. Someone needed to pay for that debacle, and Hall was responsible.
It didn't help Hall's standing with me that in his first season as UK's head coach, he had benched local star Larry Stamper. Stamper, the best player ever to suit up for the Lee County Bobcats, had been a key reserve as a sophomore, and then a starter as a junior on Adolph Rupp's last team. But when Hall took over, he played a number of younger players and Stamper was reduced to mop-up duty.
So I wrote my poison pen column and put it on the page. Back in those days, production for the Beattyville paper was basically finished on Tuesdays except for breaking news, and then Wednesdays were reserved for the Jackson paper. Both papers were taken to the printer at the same time.
My boss' brother was probably the most loyal UK fan I've ever met. If ever anyone bled blue, it was him. His affection for the Big Blue was unmatched by anyone I've ever met. He worked there at the newspaper in retirement as a way to keep busy, and as therapy as he recovered from a number of health issues. He and I became great friends in the years I worked there. But here was one instance where I let him down.
After I left the office that Tuesday, he read my column. To say he was unhappy with me was putting it mildly. He showed it to his sister, the editor and publisher. On Wednesday, when she came in, she told me I needed to reword my column to take some of the sharpness out of it. She originally wanted to pull it entirely, but I convinced her to let me run it with a milder tone. But at that moment, with the disappointment of a crushing season-ending loss still fresh, I wasn't over my anger at Coach Hall for the way he allowed the mighty Cats to go down to the upstart Georgetown Hoyas. And I wasn't disappointed in the least when Hall decided to retire the following year, although none of us could foresee what was coming during the reign of his successor, Eddie Sutton.
But like many other things, including my views on Kentucky Republican legend Larry Forgy, my thoughts evolved over the years. Instead of being angry at Hall over his treatment of Larry Stamper, or frustrated with how he couldn't stop the 1984 Final Four collapse, I began to appreciate his style of basketball and his love for the UK program. Hall remains the only native Kentuckian and former Wildcat to coach the team in the modern era. Watching how Rick Pitino, Billy Gillispie, and now John Calipari approached the job made me respect Hall that much more. I went from not thinking very highly of him to admiring him in a number of ways.
In retrospect, Hall did as good of a job as anyone could in succeeding the legend Rupp, who built the UK basketball program. He won an NCAA championship in 1978, won the NIT in 1976 when it still meant something, and engineered one of the greatest Wildcat wins ever, a regional final victory over the unbeaten Indiana Hoosiers in 1975. Many of us who underappreciated Hall grew to respect him, especially given some of the pitfalls his successors had. Sutton began a battle with the bottle and suffered the wrath of the NCAA due to a couple of unproven recruiting violation allegations. Pitino wasn't satisfied being the UK coach and thought the Boston Celtics had greener pastures. Tubby Smith, probably the coach most like Hall in terms of demeanor, began to wilt under the weight of the program and fan expectations, and left for Minnesota in a move remarkably similar to what happened when UK lured Bill Curry away from Alabama to be football coach. Gillispie proved he just wasn't up to the task and the 24-7 nature of the job. And Calipari has alienated fans through his penchant to bring in short-term mercenaries to gain the required one year of collegiate experience before bolting for the pros.
Hall gets credit for fully integrating the basketball program, starting with in-state players like Merion Haskins (younger brother of Western Kentucky great Clem Haskins) from Campbellsville, Larry Johnson and Dwane Casey from Union County, and finally hometown players James Lee and Jack Givens from Lexington. His selection of Leonard Hamilton as an assistant coach was also seen as a watershed moment in integrating the team, and it proved to be a wise decision, as Hamilton was an ace recruiter for Hall who went on to have a storied head coaching career.
After Hall's death, tributes poured in from his former players. One described him as "everybody's grandfather" and they nearly universally noted how much affection they had for him, and how the feeling was mutual. The retired coach became a beloved figure in the state, a start contrast from his coaching days when armchair critics like me pounced on his every misstep.
One of my current work colleagues played a key role in organizing a ceremony a few years ago to dedicate a bridge in Hall's native Cynthiana in his honor. She got to know the elderly coach and they became great friends. I've seen a number of pictures of the two of them together. When I heard the news of his death, she was the first person who came to my mind.
For all of Calipari's faults in the way he's managed the Kentucky basketball program, he's shown the proper respect for the past. His involvement in the recent ceremony in Rupp Arena honoring Smith is a prime example. But Calipari also reached out to Hall, having gotten the sense that the school had not paid proper homage to Hall's contributions. He became friends with his predecessor and made sure he knew just how much regard the state and fan base had for him.
In retrospect, I was definitely too hard on Hall. I was back in 1984 when UK lost to Georgetown, and I was back in the early 1970s when he drastically cut the playing time of our local Wildcat. Like many others, I've come to appreciate his accomplishments and his stewardship and guidance of the program. He brought a perspective to the coach's position -- native Kentuckian, former player, lifelong fan -- that has proven unique. No one could have possibly cared more about Kentucky basketball than Joe Beasman Hall.
Our state mourns his death, and I join thousands of others in offering sympathy and prayers for all those who knew him.
