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Jerry Tarkanian's Hall of Fame snub must finally end
The Oregonian
March 16, 2013
By John Canzano, The Oregonian
NCAA Tournament Selection Sunday. Wildest field in decades. No better
time to catch up with a man who would have loved a bracket this wide
open.
So you dial Jerry Tarkanian, and his son, Danny, answers.
"Listen," Danny says, "Dad's voice is weak. It drops out sometimes. He
has good days and bad days, you never know, but let's try it. He wants
to do this."
Then, "Tark the Shark," is on the other end of the telephone,
whispering.
"I'm watching UNLV play."
Tarkanian is 82 now. He has difficulty getting around, but his son is
usually by his side. Tark's voice was always hoarse, more like a
croak, but now it's just dry and soft. He had a nasty fall a few years
ago, and is so up and down that close friends always call a few hours
ahead after making dinner plans, asking Danny, "Is Tark having a good
day?"
It was a good day last Tuesday, when Tarkanian's former recruiting
coordinator and assistant Mark Warkentien met Tarkanian and his family
for dinner at a restaurant on the Vegas strip. The old friends
laughed, and told stories. Warkentien, now in the front office of the
New York Knicks, said it felt like a four-course dinner.
"We had people coming up to the table to take photos with him, and
thank him, or tell him a story," Warkentien said. "When you're with
Tark it's always been like that. Basically, he walks into a restaurant
in Vegas, people see him, love him, want to talk with him, and it's
clear when the bill comes Tark's not gonna have to pay."
Wednesday found Tarkanian watching the Runnin' Rebels beat Air
Force. On Saturday, he watched UNLV get beat in the Mountain West
Conference championship game by New Mexico. Tarkanian said, "I like
what I see. I'm here almost all the time, watching," and then you get
around to the question that hangs over the ex-coach's head.
Will Tarkanian ever get in?
He's one of 12 finalists for the Naismith Memoria Basketball Hall of
Fame. The 2013 enshrinement class will be announced during the Final
Four. His absence in the hall, after 31 successful years coaching and
784 victories, is a glaring omission. He made enemies in winning games
and big-time recruits while skirting rules, taking high-risk
propositions and making no apologies. While coaching, he lamented that
he felt like, "the uninvited guest." Tarkanian would not be an
outsider in major college basketball today. Because, he pretty much
paved the way.
"Yeah, it would mean something to get in (the Hall of Fame)," he
said. "It would mean a lot."
That Tarkanian isn't already in the Hall of Fame is absurd. He's not
just deserving of being in, he's bigger than the whole thing.
Tarkanian publicly challenged the NCAA on several occasions, most
notably over the organization's failure to grant him due process.
Their 11-year fight eventually landed in the Supreme Court, and NCAA
v. Tarkanian is still routinely cited today in NCAA-related
litigation.
"He not only made college basketball better," Warkentien said, "he
made the entire NCAA a tighter, better, ship because he wasn't afraid
to challenge them.
"Everyone else was afraid of the NCAA, but not Tark. That's why he's
not in the Hall of Fame yet."
I covered Tarkanian daily years ago when he was at Fresno State. His
legal battles with the NCAA were behind him. He was 68 when we had our
first meeting, a lunch that lasted hours. We sat in the back booth of
a restaurant, his usual booth. He told stories, and asked questions
about former Indiana coach Bob Knight and ex-Purdue coach Gene Keady,
both of whom I'd covered. He wanted to know how they ran practices. He
wanted to know what they were really like away from games. He was
inquisitive and curious, almost like a child.
Tarkanian always looked exhausted. And there was a persistent, hacking
cough that turned his face purple occasionally. But I remember how
sharp Tarkanian's memory was, even all those years later. He could
remember rich details from the living rooms of his recruits while at
Long Beach State in the late 1960s and early 1970s. Then, lunch ended
and I pulled my car around to find Tarkanian standing on the curb in
front of the restaurant, confused, peering out over the lot, looking
for his Cadillac.
I drove the coach up and down the rows of the lot until he remembered
he'd parked his car around the corner. Tark could be foggy like that,
but only when the topic felt like minutiae. Only when he wasn't
talking basketball. He stopped driving years ago, and now, between
college basketball seasons, he mostly wonders if he'll have to die to
get into the Hall of Fame. This year feels like Tarkanian's best
chance.
"That's what everyone's saying," he says, "but we'll see."
Syracuse's Jim Boeheim, dogged by NCAA investigations at different
points of his career, is in the Hall of Fame. So is former Connecticut
coach Jim Calhoun, who was implicated multiple times for recruiting
violations before his retirement last season. Both men, like
Tarkanian, led programs that were slapped with NCAA Tournament bans as
part of the sanctions.
Of course, Tarkanian deserves to get into the Hall of Fame. His legend
gets in the way of the argument. He's part snake-oil salesman, part
good samaritan. A slickster/genius. He's a less-evolved, less-polished
version of Kentucky's John Calipari. As much as we'd like to keep our
characters simple, flat, and easy to define, Tarkanian was either a
sketchy guy who did a lot of good in basketball or a great guy who
occasionally did some sketchy things trying to win. Take your
pick. Trying to splinter one facet of Tarkanian's personality from the
other isn't impossible, it just muddles up the most important part of
the discussion.
There was a place for Tarkanian in college basketball. He took players
others couldn't, or wouldn't, touch. He won with them. And his
contributions were staggering. Some lives were changed. There were
four Final Four appearances, and his UNLV team in 1990 destroyed Duke
by a title-game record 30 points. College basketball was better
because Tark was around, although he felt like a towel-chewing
migraine some days.
"These guys now are following the blueprint that Tark laid out for
them," Warkentien said. "Tark won all kinds of games and you can line
up his victories, but his greatest contribution is that he flat-out
changed the possibilities. The guys coaching in this very tournament
we're about to see are the ones who benefit the most."
The NCAA Tournament begins this week.
This kind of wide-open tournament was made for a coach like Tarkanian,
who always felt like he had a chance. They could hold it 10 times and
get 10 different champions. It's the kind of free-for-all he'd have
loved to be involved with. He missed basketball so much after retiring
in 2002, he didn't know what to do with himself. For years he'd still
travel to the Final Four city every year and sit in the lobby of the
coach's hotel, holding court with old friends.
"I miss it," he said, "but I'm too old now."
Tarkanian will spend the tournament with his son at his side, watching
games. And waiting.
Follow @JohnCanzanoBFT on Twitter.
The Oregonian
March 16, 2013
By John Canzano, The Oregonian
NCAA Tournament Selection Sunday. Wildest field in decades. No better
time to catch up with a man who would have loved a bracket this wide
open.
So you dial Jerry Tarkanian, and his son, Danny, answers.
"Listen," Danny says, "Dad's voice is weak. It drops out sometimes. He
has good days and bad days, you never know, but let's try it. He wants
to do this."
Then, "Tark the Shark," is on the other end of the telephone,
whispering.
"I'm watching UNLV play."
Tarkanian is 82 now. He has difficulty getting around, but his son is
usually by his side. Tark's voice was always hoarse, more like a
croak, but now it's just dry and soft. He had a nasty fall a few years
ago, and is so up and down that close friends always call a few hours
ahead after making dinner plans, asking Danny, "Is Tark having a good
day?"
It was a good day last Tuesday, when Tarkanian's former recruiting
coordinator and assistant Mark Warkentien met Tarkanian and his family
for dinner at a restaurant on the Vegas strip. The old friends
laughed, and told stories. Warkentien, now in the front office of the
New York Knicks, said it felt like a four-course dinner.
"We had people coming up to the table to take photos with him, and
thank him, or tell him a story," Warkentien said. "When you're with
Tark it's always been like that. Basically, he walks into a restaurant
in Vegas, people see him, love him, want to talk with him, and it's
clear when the bill comes Tark's not gonna have to pay."
Wednesday found Tarkanian watching the Runnin' Rebels beat Air
Force. On Saturday, he watched UNLV get beat in the Mountain West
Conference championship game by New Mexico. Tarkanian said, "I like
what I see. I'm here almost all the time, watching," and then you get
around to the question that hangs over the ex-coach's head.
Will Tarkanian ever get in?
He's one of 12 finalists for the Naismith Memoria Basketball Hall of
Fame. The 2013 enshrinement class will be announced during the Final
Four. His absence in the hall, after 31 successful years coaching and
784 victories, is a glaring omission. He made enemies in winning games
and big-time recruits while skirting rules, taking high-risk
propositions and making no apologies. While coaching, he lamented that
he felt like, "the uninvited guest." Tarkanian would not be an
outsider in major college basketball today. Because, he pretty much
paved the way.
"Yeah, it would mean something to get in (the Hall of Fame)," he
said. "It would mean a lot."
That Tarkanian isn't already in the Hall of Fame is absurd. He's not
just deserving of being in, he's bigger than the whole thing.
Tarkanian publicly challenged the NCAA on several occasions, most
notably over the organization's failure to grant him due process.
Their 11-year fight eventually landed in the Supreme Court, and NCAA
v. Tarkanian is still routinely cited today in NCAA-related
litigation.
"He not only made college basketball better," Warkentien said, "he
made the entire NCAA a tighter, better, ship because he wasn't afraid
to challenge them.
"Everyone else was afraid of the NCAA, but not Tark. That's why he's
not in the Hall of Fame yet."
I covered Tarkanian daily years ago when he was at Fresno State. His
legal battles with the NCAA were behind him. He was 68 when we had our
first meeting, a lunch that lasted hours. We sat in the back booth of
a restaurant, his usual booth. He told stories, and asked questions
about former Indiana coach Bob Knight and ex-Purdue coach Gene Keady,
both of whom I'd covered. He wanted to know how they ran practices. He
wanted to know what they were really like away from games. He was
inquisitive and curious, almost like a child.
Tarkanian always looked exhausted. And there was a persistent, hacking
cough that turned his face purple occasionally. But I remember how
sharp Tarkanian's memory was, even all those years later. He could
remember rich details from the living rooms of his recruits while at
Long Beach State in the late 1960s and early 1970s. Then, lunch ended
and I pulled my car around to find Tarkanian standing on the curb in
front of the restaurant, confused, peering out over the lot, looking
for his Cadillac.
I drove the coach up and down the rows of the lot until he remembered
he'd parked his car around the corner. Tark could be foggy like that,
but only when the topic felt like minutiae. Only when he wasn't
talking basketball. He stopped driving years ago, and now, between
college basketball seasons, he mostly wonders if he'll have to die to
get into the Hall of Fame. This year feels like Tarkanian's best
chance.
"That's what everyone's saying," he says, "but we'll see."
Syracuse's Jim Boeheim, dogged by NCAA investigations at different
points of his career, is in the Hall of Fame. So is former Connecticut
coach Jim Calhoun, who was implicated multiple times for recruiting
violations before his retirement last season. Both men, like
Tarkanian, led programs that were slapped with NCAA Tournament bans as
part of the sanctions.
Of course, Tarkanian deserves to get into the Hall of Fame. His legend
gets in the way of the argument. He's part snake-oil salesman, part
good samaritan. A slickster/genius. He's a less-evolved, less-polished
version of Kentucky's John Calipari. As much as we'd like to keep our
characters simple, flat, and easy to define, Tarkanian was either a
sketchy guy who did a lot of good in basketball or a great guy who
occasionally did some sketchy things trying to win. Take your
pick. Trying to splinter one facet of Tarkanian's personality from the
other isn't impossible, it just muddles up the most important part of
the discussion.
There was a place for Tarkanian in college basketball. He took players
others couldn't, or wouldn't, touch. He won with them. And his
contributions were staggering. Some lives were changed. There were
four Final Four appearances, and his UNLV team in 1990 destroyed Duke
by a title-game record 30 points. College basketball was better
because Tark was around, although he felt like a towel-chewing
migraine some days.
"These guys now are following the blueprint that Tark laid out for
them," Warkentien said. "Tark won all kinds of games and you can line
up his victories, but his greatest contribution is that he flat-out
changed the possibilities. The guys coaching in this very tournament
we're about to see are the ones who benefit the most."
The NCAA Tournament begins this week.
This kind of wide-open tournament was made for a coach like Tarkanian,
who always felt like he had a chance. They could hold it 10 times and
get 10 different champions. It's the kind of free-for-all he'd have
loved to be involved with. He missed basketball so much after retiring
in 2002, he didn't know what to do with himself. For years he'd still
travel to the Final Four city every year and sit in the lobby of the
coach's hotel, holding court with old friends.
"I miss it," he said, "but I'm too old now."
Tarkanian will spend the tournament with his son at his side, watching
games. And waiting.
Follow @JohnCanzanoBFT on Twitter.