January 15, 1965—Bill Bradley’s 41-point effort in Princeton University’s win over Columbia was seemingly uneventful compared with two games before and immediately after: his epic showdown against the Cazzie Russell-led Michigan just before the New Year (recounted in a prior post of mine) and his hot-and-cold game against Cornell the following night.
But the crowd at Morningside Heights that night got to see something special nonetheless: the 2,000th-point in the collegiate career of the future Basketball Hall of Famer and U.S. Senator from New Jersey.
New Yorker writer John McPhee’s fascinating if hagiographic account of the Princeton years of “Dollar Bill,” A Sense of Where You Are, treats the Columbia game in uncharacteristically desultory fashion, noting merely that my alma mater “went down without incident.” I gather that the score was not only not especially close, but that the outcome was never even in doubt.
The squad that Bradley and coach Butch van Breda Kolff faced that night was under the watchful eye of Jack Rohan, the most successful coach in the Lions’ history.
Rohan’s recruiting efforts had not fully borne fruit yet—that would have to wait until the 1967-68 team, led by Jim McMillan, which reeled off 23 wins against five losses, winning the Ivy League championship—but his team could still pull off surprises.
One of these was recounted in a post on Columbia’s Web site by Mike Griffin, a 1965 grad. In January 1964, a capacity crowd at University Hall got the best of both worlds: a typically stellar Bradley performance (36 points) and a thrilling 69-66 victory for the Lions.
Any hopes that history would repeat itself on Morningside Heights—that Princeton, playing away from home, at the end of a period of intense cramming for exams, would play flatfooted--fell by the wayside. When Bradley notched the 2,000th point of his career, play was stopped to present him with the ball. Until that point, only 16 other players in college basketball history had gained as many points.
What happened the next 24 hours proved far more eventful, as the Princeton squad left immediately for Ithaca, N.Y., by bus—in a blizzard. Perhaps that, along with a 20-minute delay of the game against Cornell, unsettled Bradley, because in the first half he was ice-cold: 10 points, but only two field goals made out of seventeen attempted.
In the second half, Bradley ignited, pouring in 30 points and helping to erase the 16-point deficit that the Tigers faced with 14 minutes to go. But Cornell won the game by a point with a jump shot in the closing seconds. That would be Princeton’s only Ivy League loss that magical season.
In the decade to come, Columbia fans who rooted for the home team in professional basketball would be glad to see Bradley on their side for a change. Later that year, he would be drafted by the New York Knickerbockers, where he became an integral part of two championship teams that put into beautiful practice coach Red Holtzman’s philosophy: defense, moving without the ball, and hitting the open man.
But the crowd at Morningside Heights that night got to see something special nonetheless: the 2,000th-point in the collegiate career of the future Basketball Hall of Famer and U.S. Senator from New Jersey.
New Yorker writer John McPhee’s fascinating if hagiographic account of the Princeton years of “Dollar Bill,” A Sense of Where You Are, treats the Columbia game in uncharacteristically desultory fashion, noting merely that my alma mater “went down without incident.” I gather that the score was not only not especially close, but that the outcome was never even in doubt.
The squad that Bradley and coach Butch van Breda Kolff faced that night was under the watchful eye of Jack Rohan, the most successful coach in the Lions’ history.
Rohan’s recruiting efforts had not fully borne fruit yet—that would have to wait until the 1967-68 team, led by Jim McMillan, which reeled off 23 wins against five losses, winning the Ivy League championship—but his team could still pull off surprises.
One of these was recounted in a post on Columbia’s Web site by Mike Griffin, a 1965 grad. In January 1964, a capacity crowd at University Hall got the best of both worlds: a typically stellar Bradley performance (36 points) and a thrilling 69-66 victory for the Lions.
Any hopes that history would repeat itself on Morningside Heights—that Princeton, playing away from home, at the end of a period of intense cramming for exams, would play flatfooted--fell by the wayside. When Bradley notched the 2,000th point of his career, play was stopped to present him with the ball. Until that point, only 16 other players in college basketball history had gained as many points.
What happened the next 24 hours proved far more eventful, as the Princeton squad left immediately for Ithaca, N.Y., by bus—in a blizzard. Perhaps that, along with a 20-minute delay of the game against Cornell, unsettled Bradley, because in the first half he was ice-cold: 10 points, but only two field goals made out of seventeen attempted.
In the second half, Bradley ignited, pouring in 30 points and helping to erase the 16-point deficit that the Tigers faced with 14 minutes to go. But Cornell won the game by a point with a jump shot in the closing seconds. That would be Princeton’s only Ivy League loss that magical season.
In the decade to come, Columbia fans who rooted for the home team in professional basketball would be glad to see Bradley on their side for a change. Later that year, he would be drafted by the New York Knickerbockers, where he became an integral part of two championship teams that put into beautiful practice coach Red Holtzman’s philosophy: defense, moving without the ball, and hitting the open man.
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