remembering coach mears

From time to time, something happens that sends us on a pleasure trip down memory lane. The memories flood in and the years are wiped away. Things that hadn't entered our minds for years suddenly seem like only yesterday.

That's what happened to me last week when I heard legendary UT basketball coach Ray Mears had passed away. I instantly flashed back to the late 60's and early 70's and no, contrary to what some of you might think, the flashback had nothing to do with any drugs that you probably suspect I may have taken back in the day. These memories had more to do with my dad who passed away this past February. The fact it was the week of Father's Day only made the memories rush in even faster.

Tennessee basketball was the bond that tied my dad and me together throughout the years. We were very different people with very different views of the world but we loved UT basketball. We even talked about Bruce Pearl and the Vols when Dad was on his deathbed.

It all started back in the 1960's. Ramon Asa Mears had just arrived on the scene in Knoxville fresh off of winning a college division national championship at tiny Wittenberg College in Ohio. To say there was a sense of excitement wouldn't be exactly true. Basketball wasn't all that big on The Hill in those days. But Mears was about to change all of that. He would put UT basketball on the map.

The year Mears arrived, my dad moved us to Kentucky. I was young and naïve but it didn't take me long to learn an appreciation for UK basketball. The rivalry between the Wildcats' legendary coach, Adolph Rupp, and Mears was immediate and intense. I found myself living behind enemy lines. During basketball season, my dad and I were seen as outcasts. We both took great pleasure each time Mears' Vols got the best of the Cats. To this day, I have great difficulty looking objectively at Kentucky basketball. Forget Steve Spurrier. Who cares about Florida or Alabama football?  The Evil Empire in my mind has always been University of Kentucky basketball.  And Ray Mears helped make it so by becoming a genuine pain in Rupp's side.

Needless to say, we were both huge Ray Mears fans. When we moved to Morristown in 1965, Dad and I bought season tickets to watch the Vols play. For us, seeing Mears' teams live and in person was a dream come true. Getting to meet the icon was even a bigger thrill.

Dad made me caddy all summer to earn enough money to pay for my own tickets. I didn't mind. Tennessee basketball meant that much to me. Two years later, Mears' Vols rewarded us with an SEC title. I will never forget the starting five of Boerwinkle, Widby, Justice, Hann, and Hendrix.

The hour drive from Morristown to Stokely Athletic Center before each game and the one-hour back after the game gave Dad and me some quality time together. We had the ritual down. Our pre-game meal was always at Green's Restaurant just off of I-40. We would talk and strategize about the evening's game. If we won, we would stop on the way home in Jefferson City at Scotty's to grab a few of their delicious hamburgers hot off the grill. If the Vols lost, we didn't feel much like eating so we would usually pass and continue the trek home trying to figure out what went wrong in the game. One thing we never did was second-guess Mears.

I went away to college and was a student at UT during the Ernie and Bernie years. Dad kept his season tickets and attended home games religiously. My mom took my seat. I can't imagine the conversations being as interesting but it didn't matter. At halftime of every game, I met Dad and his circle of friends at the same place in the hallway. My hair was a little longer but the conversations were the same. We would analyze the first half and fret over the second. He was always the optimist so I usually went back to my seat in the student section with a dose of confidence that everything would be okay.

When I think of Ray Mears, I think about his bright orange jacket and his coining the name, "Big Orange Country." I recall the entertaining pre-game routines to the music of "Sweet Georgia Brown." I remember Roger Peltz and Bill Seals juggling basketballs on a unicycle. I remember the 1-3-1 trap zone that he made famous. I remember the hysteria that was Stokely Athletic Center when Kentucky or Vanderbilt were in town. I think about the "Long Walk" at Memorial Gym in Nashville.  I recall the Orange Tie Club and the pep band. I remember the large wooden "T" players ran through when introduced. I remember a man with the courage to integrate UT's basketball program at a time when racial tensions were high in the South. But most of all, I remember my dad and the joy he got from watching Mears and his Vols play basketball. I remember the time we spent going to games and talking hoops. And it all started with Coach Mears. Thank you, Coach!