UNLV’s first hoops title was also a night of firsts for me. I was a 15-year-old high school sophomore at the time, and this was my first time on a university campus; my first visit to the T&M; my first time being around so many people; my first time seeing real-life versions of those infamous college species—girlus debaucherous and fratasaurus flex—and the first time I got to try my prep-school game on the college honeys. I air-balled: was told I was cute, but too young.
I’d always planned to go to college. Where, I wasn’t sure. But after that night, it was to UNLV land. Because if a simulcast of a game was this fun, I could only imagine the madness of a home contest: the pre-game fireworks; the painted-face fan-atics, the Rebels’ pressure-busts-pipes defense; a fast-break attack that makes the LA Lakers proud; the college honeys. Did I mention the college honeys? Never had I felt such kinship, such solidarity.
How could I not go to UNLV? These cats ruled the college basketball world. Coach Jerry Tarkanian was as cool as the other side of the pillow, and the players were down to earth. When I worked at the now-closed Century 12 movie theater, on Lamb just south of Sahara, Anderson Hunt and Stacy Augmon came in with dates, ordered popcorn and chatted with ya boy about the season. They dapped me up, too. In front of some college honeys! How cool was that? I had it all mapped out. Play football, go to class and never miss a game. UNLV, here I ...
What the heck?
Larry Johnson, don’t pass. Take the shot ...
Damn.
We’re not going to repeat as champs—Duke, 79-77.
Ultimately, I only went to UNLV in the fall of 1993. The team was good, but excitement had left the building. Tark was forced out and the team hit with NCAA sanctions. Games were fun, but nowhere near as magical as that Monday night in April, 17 years ago, when UNLV was crowned champion of the college basketball world.