Dick Vitale, Before He Became a P-T-P-er

I never really followed elections to the Basketball Hall of Fame the way I always have for Cooperstown. But I felt connected with this year's inductees – and especially ESPN broadcaster Dick Vitale– in a way I never had before.

Over the past 30 years or so, as a growing legion of college basketball teams became glued to their sets during "March Madness," they chuckled at such Vitale neologisms as "Get a T-O, baby," "Awesome, baby," and "You're a P-T-Per" (the last, for those not among the hoops cognoscenti, refers to "Prime-Time Player").

I previously commented on Vince Lombardi's connection to my alma mater, St. Cecilia's High School in Englewood, N.J. Though far more transitory, Vitale had his own connection to the school, but instead of being employed by Saints he was coaching an opponent. I'll bet if you ask him, he'll still recall everything about his high school form of "March Madness."

You see, starting out in the early 1970s, Vitale was a still-young (31 years old), ambitious high school coach at his alma mater, East Rutherford, blessed with a prodigy, Les Cason—a center who, by age 15, had already grown to six feet nine inches tall, towering over just about anybody who had the unfortunate assignment of guarding him.

This "once in a generation player," as Vitale called him years later, finished his high school career at the end of the 1970-71 season with 2,871 points, the most ever in Bergen County by any player at the secondary school level. More than 300 colleges offered him scholarships.

St. Cecilia stood in the way of a perfect season – and their #1 ranking in the county--for Cason, Vitale and East Rutherford. And though they might have come from a not-very-large parochial school, this was a team that Vitale could not afford to take lightly: They had not only rebounded from a losing season the prior year, but had beaten their powerful crosstown rivals, Englewood, by nine points just a couple of weeks ago. By year's end, they would compile an 18-5 record.

Both teams sensed, going into the game, that this would be a more intense contest than usual. It wasn't just the chance to pull off the biggest upset of the year that motivated Saints—there was also not-far-distant history.

Both hailing from East Rutherford, Vitale and Saints coach Ken Cross shared something else in common: a lack of shyness in expressing their views to referees and other coaches. In fact, in a scrimmage the prior year at East Rutherford, the game had been close and heated, with the coaches engaging in what, in diplomatic parlance, is often euphemistically called "a full and frank exchange of views."

I think my brother still feels somewhat chagrined that of all the games that season, this was the only one in which he did not start or even play. He had been sick for the last few days, and Coach Cross felt that he would not be ready for the most physically and mentally intense game of the year.

But Cross had prepared the team so well through the year and in the short run-up to the game that, at least at first, it did not appear as if Saints would be hurt. Going into the game, the team was confident that, with its controlled, patient style of offense (if you've seen Princeton play over the years, you'll have an idea what I'm talking about) and physical toughness, they were easily a match for East Rutherford.

Actually, by the first half, they were more than a match. Saints' center, Don Zoch, was a constant threat to score and "go-to" guy, so much so that Cason was having fits guarding him instead of the other way around. It quickly became apparent that Cason would not come remotely close to his season average of 35 points and 20 rebounds per game. By the end of the half, the East Rutherford star was in deep foul trouble: One more infraction and he'd be out of the game.

That last foul was never called. I repeat: Never called. Make of that what you will. I say nothing more.

East Rutherford grew increasingly daring on defense and, in the opinion of the Saints' team, every marginal call seemed to go the visiting team's way. Inexorably whittling away Saints' double-digit halftime lead, Vitale's crew pulled out a victory with less than a minute to play.

My brother and the other Saints players felt strongly that this was the only loss they suffered that season in which the referees played a significant role.

What importance does a high school game played 10, let alone more than 35, years ago have except in the memory of those involved? Little, one would say at first. But I think this situation was different.

As someone obsessed with history, I'm fascinated by the role of contingency—i.e., "what-if" scenarios. Few contests lend themselves so readily to this speculation than the Saints-East Rutherford game.

So how much would things have turned out differently if East Rutherford had lost? For two people, almost everything.

The presence of Patrick Ewing among Vitale's class of inductees is a reminder of what Les Cason might have accomplished but for his own failings. Ewing was, in the sports vernacular, a "warrior"—an athlete who constantly exceeded the limits of his ability and pushed to the very edge of his physical endurance to carry his Knick team to the brink of an NBA championship. The pity is not that he failed; the wonder is that he always rose to try again.

The same could not be said for Cason. Maybe a loss to Saints might have motivated him to pick up his game, instead of resting easy on the inevitable comparisons with the rising young NBA star Lew Alcindor (now known, of course, as Kareem Abdul-Jabbar). His deficiencies in a larger national setting, where he could no longer rely on his raw skills, were exposed quickly.

At a national All-Star game that year in Pittsburgh, Cason could manage only two points, on a pair of free throws, in a contest featuring future NBA All-Stars Maurice Lucas and Campy Russell. The dismal performance meant he became “the only player ever to lose 200 scholarship offers,” the game’s organizer, Sonny Vaccaro, said later.

From there, it was steadily downhill, in the kind of sad trajectory so many high school stars—especially in those days, when drugs swept through the youth culture like a scythe—endure. An academic standing and standardized test scores that they even scared off Jerry Tarkanian at Cason’s chosen college, Long Beach State; a season at San Jacinto Junior College in Texas; an assist from old coach Vitale at Rutgers; a year sat out, then a final game at Rutgers in January 1974. Now the smile dimmed on the big kid's face and the descent became vertiginous, with pickup games on the streets of New York alternating with needle exchanges, then homelessness.

In 1993, more than a generation after his glorious final year of high school and his epic battle against St. Cecilia, while Vitale was well into his second career as a nationally famous sportscaster, the Bergen County sports world was rocked by a story in the local paper, The Record, that Cason had contracted AIDS. The youth who had once dazzled hometown fans with his leaps now could not even rise from his wheelchair unaided.

Four years later, the end finally came for Cason. No longer able to play his joyful boys’ game, he had aged far beyond his years. Like other drug addicts, such as jazz legends Charlie Parker, he astounded nurses attending him in his final days because he looked three decades older than his 43 years.

About 10 to 15 years ago, Vitale made a motivational tape for high school basketball players in which he warned bluntly about the dangers of drugs. He spoke of how drugs had taken the lives of a number of great players—not just those close to fulfilling their potential in the pros, like Len Bias, but also high school players, including Billy Tinsley (a star in Englewood, probably better known to Saints players than Cason, since he had attended our elementary school).

From what I have heard, for all his passion on the subject, Vitale never mentioned Cason. Was this because he did not know yet how Cason’s story would eventually play out? Did he want his former player to live out his final days in peace and dignity, with minimal media intrusions? Or did it simply hurt too much for him to talk about his former star, or to think how he might have prevented this approaching tragedy? It’s hard to say. But it’s equally apparent, for those aware of the true situation, that the power of his tape derived from something all too deeply personal for the former coach and mentor.

The impact of the Saints game on Vitale was more positive. Not only would that #1 county ranking and undefeated record have evaporated if he lost, but, with his "once in a generation" star moving on, he would not have such an opportunity for a golden season again. His ascent to fame would certainly have lost some of its velocity.

None of this is to say that Vitale was not a fine coach or broadcaster. To gainsay his achievements is ridiculous when one is speaking about a man who, moving successively up through the collegiate and pro ranks, recruited the pillars of Rutgers' 1976 Final Four team, Phil Sellers and Mike Dabney, as an assistant; compiled a sterling .722 winning percentage at the University of Detroit over four seasons; and became head coach of the Detroit Pistons.

Vitale’s election to the Basketball Hall of Fame is all the sweeter now because it followed scary, potentially career-ending surgery on his vocal chords. He deserves congratulations for his achievement in the broadcast booth. As he flashes across his career before the induction ceremonies later this year, and especially the close calls he’s endured on and off the court, I wouldn’t be at all surprised if the memory of his encounter with St. Cecilia’s crosses his mind.

(Thanks to my brother John, for his invaluable –if you’ll pardon the pun—assist in shedding light on the background of his team’s biggest game.)