A Love Affair With Arizona Basketball

I think I can remember when the obsession began. It must have been around April 1984. It was nearly 120 degrees outside and my mom had taken my sister Amanda and I to the University of Arizona campus to buy my sister a pair of U of A shorts, which had become all the rage in the schoolyard during the past year.

I was bored, I think, eating a hot dog and drinking a soda of some sort when a couple of basketball players named “Easy” Eddie Smith and Pete “Fly Dog” Williams walked by us.

Holy crap, I thought… They’re TALL!

I was nine-years-old and a towering presence on my fourth grade recess basketball team. (I was a center at 5’0” and averaged about 20 points a game – of course there were only eight-foot hoops at Fruchthendler Elementary)... Eddie Smith looked about thirty. Pete Williams was his over-sized wingman. One of them had a Jheri-curl. The other had the short beginnings of a moustache. It was getting close to summer break and the Arizona Wildcats had just finished a 21-10 season with their second-year coach, the silver-haired legend-to-be known as Lute Olson.

“Oh my God,” I said, “That’s Eddie Smith and Pete Williams!”

“Who?” my sister asked…

“They’re football players, Amanda,” my mom responded.

“I think Steve Kerr is cute,” Amanda said. “Amanda Kerr would be a cute name.”

I ran up to the two men and produced the paper hot dog holder that up until a minute ago was full with my lunch. I grabbed a pen from my mom and got the two Wildcats to sign their names right over the mustard stain. They rubbed my head and asked me if I was going to go to “Lute Olson’s Basketball Camp” that summer.

“Yeah!” I yelled in excitement, having no idea what the camp even was.

Eddie and Pete grinned and looked at my mom.

“He’s gonna be tall,” one of them said.

It was then that I knew I had to go to Lute Olson’s Basketball Camp. It would be an easy run… Win the “Camp MVP Award,” become an All-American in high school and eventually attend the U of A before becoming the next Dr. J in the NBA.

Immediately, the after-school jump-shooting began. My grades suffered. I didn’t care about girls. If I was indeed going to be tall, I had to take advantage of my destiny and begin training for my future as a basketball Hall-of-Famer. Eventually, my mom and dad agreed that my obsession with the sport was strong enough that I would be able to go to Lute’s camp that summer. I leapt for joy and began trying to find myself a nickname as cool as “Fly-Dog.”

A couple of months later, I was shipped off to my first Lute Olson Basketball Camp with about five of my school friends. We were the youngest age allowed at the camp at the time, and we were all a little nervous to be away from home for such an extended period.

One cooler nine-year-old named Josh Katz talked about how hard it would be to be away from his girlfriend for a full week. That made me nervous. Still, I knew that the skills I lacked in the female department I made up for on the hardwood. Nobody could stop my first step. I was a hustler, a shooter and I was ready.

The first day of warm-ups was held at Bear Down Gymnasium. The actual filming site of every nine-year-old’s favorite sleep-over movie: “Revenge of the Nerds. ” Every one of us was more excited to actually be hanging out in the same gym where the nerds were forced to stay on cots than we were to play basketball. We couldn’t believe our luck. We all spent the first ten minutes making our best efforts to imitate the fine comic actors of that film…

“Hey, why they call you ‘Booger?’” Takashi Toshiro would ask.

“I don’t know,” Booger replies, finger jammed halfway up his nose.

It was amazing. Our own little college gymnasium. No parents stopping us from cursing, playing hoops or quoting our favorite movie… Until Lute Olson walked in.

My first thought was that Lute resembled my dad’s partner, Arthur Goldberg. Lute was wearing some of those too tight and too-high-in-the-80’s P.E. coach’s shorts and he had a whistle around his neck. He approached a gentleman resembling an assistant coach and made some sort of welcome speech. From what I can recall, he said, “You gotta play defense to win basketball games. Let’s start working on footwork…”

We all groaned. Defense? Come on!, I thought, I’m a SCORER! I want to get BUCKETS! This camp wasn’t going to be nearly as fun as I thought.

We assumed our proper positions and spent what seemed like 12 hours shuffling down the line forward and backward, up and down, again and again. I was ready to fake an ankle injury and walk out of the camp after merely 15 minutes. I wanted some game time, some action! Everything seemed to be moving slowly… until Lute decided that we all looked fatigued and proceeded to introduce us to some of the older guys at camp.

The first “older guy” to walk into the gymnasium looked about nine feet tall. He had a car-seat sort of contraption strapped to his leg and he dribbled the ball through his legs with such a cocksure swagger that I figured he must be an NBA player. I searched for a hot dog wrapper, thinking his autograph must be worth millions, but alas, could only find a small crumpled up gum wrapper from the stick of Hubba-Bubba currently in my mouth.

Two or three other guys followed behind him, but the leader was easily the man with the mechanical leg. He slapped a high five to Lute and waved to the entire 200-person-camp. Lute yelled above the gymnasium.

“This is Sean Elliott,” Lute said. “He’s coming to play for us at Arizona next year.”

Sean took a ball out of Lute’s hands and ran towards the basket. Within seconds he took off from the ground like a Jet Airplane and ripped a double pump reverse slam-dunk that immediately got the weary crowd of campers up onto our feet. I screamed in amazement. Little did I know that this kid was eventually going to become my favorite athlete in the history of sports.

The rest of the camp was amazing. With Sean Elliott there, everything else seemed easy. Imitations of Revenge of the Nerds became imitations of Sean Elliott’s jump-shot. We all learned new moves, drank too much soda, ate too much candy and lied about our accomplishments in our regular school leagues. Suddenly, we all thought we were All-Stars and future NBA players, and after the week ended, I went back home to tell my family exactly what I wanted to do with my life.

I wanted to be an Arizona basketball player.

“You know, not many Jews play basketball,” my grandmother said at dinner that night. “I mean, look at the guys playing now… You think you’re gonna be in the NBA? You’re nuts!”

“Be a doctor,” my grandfather offered.

Still, I had no interest in my father’s profession. I was going to become a ballplayer and Lute Olson was going to be the coach whose style of play I emulated.

Unfortunately, I averaged 1.2 points per game as a junior varsity player and never got that recruitment letter from Lute that I swore would someday be mine.

A year before Lute’s arrival at Arizona, my dad had surprised me with some amazing news. He had worked a deal with an athletic director who happened to be one of his patients. We were moving from our middle-deck season seats at McKale Center.

“But dad, I like our section,” I complained. “Everybody around us always buys me hotdogs and soda and stuff.”

“Don’t worry, Zach, you’ll like our new section even better,” my dad comforted me. “Plus, we got these great new players and you’ll be much happier.”

Sure enough, I was. Front row, center, behind public address announcer Roger Sedlmayr. Anthony Cook could sweat on me. Steve Kerr could ask me for a bite of my hot dog. Craig McMillan could give me jump-shot advice and in 1985-86 I could analyze the skinny freshman Sean Elliott’s weird leg contraption up close.

My dad had somehow scored the JACK NICHOLSON seats at McKale Center and I was the luckiest kid in Tucson. My dad is still there. Look for him today. He’s the handsome man in the front row that ignores his pager at U of A basketball games even when he’s on-call. Don’t tell his patients I told you that.

In 1985, Elliott was a six-foot-eight-inch slasher/scorer/All-Everything out of Cholla High School. For some unknown reason, he committed to play for the Wildcats and Tucson was excited to have a team considered to be a contender for the Pac-10 title for the first time in its recent history. Sean immediately stepped in and took over the court.

Along with Kerr, John Edgar, a guy who I could bench-press named Anthony Cook and McMillan (who ironically went to high school with my current fiancée in northern California), the Wildcats won their first of many Olson-era Pac-10 titles and made the NCAA tournament.

So there I was, 10 years old and completely obsessed with Arizona sports. And everything started happening in Tucson.

I was at Arizona Stadium when Chuck Cecil took an interception 106 yards for a touchdown against Arizona State. I saw every great highlight, like Elliott schooling Stacey Augmon (and every other visiting player) from the front row at McKale for nearly 12 years. I own about 15 different “U of A # 1” and “Final Four” shirts. I got more young college star’s autographs after games than professional collectors.

Jud Buechler was downstairs getting drunk at a frat party at Skyline Country Club the night of my Bar Mitzvah. Even former UA baseball coach Jerry Kindall took a bunch of rag tag players to the 1986 College World Series. I was there when Harvey Mason recorded “Wild About the Cats” with the 1988 Final Four team. It included such brilliant couplets like “Elliott’s here, it’s time to play – THEY WANT ME IN THE NBA.”

I remember when Tom Tolbert had a swirling mess of college-boy hair. I remember when 5’10” double-pump reverse dunk machine point guard Kenny Lofton went out for the Arizona baseball team amidst laughter and surprise. (2,000th Major League hit last month – how you doing?). I watched UCLA guard Darrick Martin sink a heart-wrenching last second shot to end our 71-game home court win streak.

I am Arizona sports, and nothing proved it more then when, as an 18 year old heading to college, I decided to go to USC.

My father wasn’t happy, but he pretended to be supportive. My brother was happy because now he could go to the games at McKale. My mom was happy because I was going to California and getting out of Tucson. Still, part of me was saddened by the fact that I never got a chance to play for Lute Olson. My old mentor and basketball (camp) coach. Ha.

Lute, if you’re out there, please ignore the photo accompanying this article – You look like a child molester. No offense. Then again, look at me. Nice shorts. Does anybody remember beating me up as a child?

In 1993, during my freshman year of college, Arizona came to the Los Angeles Sports Arena to play USC. I was in possession of two front row student section tickets that I had traded a bag of grass and some Spanish homework for. Along with my friend and fellow Tucson-born Trojan, Brad Haas, I stood up the entire game rooting along the Cats awash in a sea of USC basketball fans and students booing me and throwing peanuts at my Sean Elliott San Antonio Spurs jersey.

“Sit down, loser,’ they would yell.

“Go to the other side of the court, tool,’ I would hear.

But I stood my ground. Nothing could stop me from cheering on the Wildcats, and nothing ever will…

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Editor's Note: Thanks to Zach, who we will hopefully be seeing and reading much more from in the coming weeks. Make sure to get your tickets early for when Zach brings his ultra-unique band to Tucson in late September. "Zachariah and the Lobos Riders" will play at Plush on Fourth Ave. and the tickets will sell fast so be sure to get yours ASAP. Thanks again to Zach, who just wrote an article that I'm sure made everyone burst out laughing on multiple occasions. - Ben Hansen.

Zach Selwyn Bio:

Zach Selwyn, who was born and raised in Tucson, Arizona, was well-known to television viewers as the participant deemed "the most talented of all contestants" by the judges on this year's Dream Job on ESPN.

Selwyn successfully balances his numerous talents and passions with luminous and dedicated fervor. As an actor, writer, singer/songwriter and sports broadcaster, Selwyn has achieved success in every region he has navigated.

Selwyn also hosted "Around the Horn" in June on ESPN and has had radio stints with NPR.

Performs his unique style of country-rock/hop hop under the name "Zachariah and the Lobos Riders" and has had music featured in the film "Dead and Breakfast" as well as commercials for Coors and ESPN.

In 2003, he released his first full-length LP, "Ghost Signs." Selwyn's writing skills took him to the HBO U.S. Comedy Arts Festival in Aspen with his sketch comedy group in 2002.

Bio Courtesy gsn.com.