Duke Sucks: The summer of ‘94 & Coach K’s terrible basketball camp
In the summer of 1994, myself and my hoops cohort, Pete, went to Coach K’s Basketball Camp held on the campus of Duke University in Durham, NC. While we grew up and lived in Maryland, just outside of D.C., we were not Terrapin die-hards as much as giant college hoop fans in general. We did however retain the same amount of hate for the Duke University basketball program that most red-blooded american high school kids had. One of Pete’s parents had attended Duke and remained a big fan who pressed us to attend the 4 night basketball camp, as we were both avid hoopsters who had regularly attended the local b’ball camp offered by Morgan Wooten, legendary head coach at Dematha HS. Wooten’s camp was well run with a week of non-stop basketball that we looked forward to for several summers. When the opportunity to go to Coach K’s camp arose, who was fresh off his 7th final four in 8 years, we were all for it, thinking it had to be a giant step up from the camp run by a local high school coach. This assumption proved to be wildly off-base.
When we got to the camp, immediate disappointment settled in as we learned that Coach K would not be running the camp because he was busy helping prep the USA National Team for World Championships as an assistant coach. Therefore, his Duke assistant Pete Gaudet ,would unfortunately be running the camp for the week we were in attendance. Sometime early during day 2 of the 4 day camp, the second phase of disappoint started to fester…. “How come we’re playing very little basketball, here at, basketball camp?” we asked ourselves. We had found ourselves with so much free time between camp run basketball activities, that Pete and I had refocused our energy to the Off-Road arcade game in the student center game-room. We literally played Off Road for hours each day, waiting for the next camp hoops game or practice session to start. Our frustration with the whole experience was mounting by the hour. The camp sucked. Pete Gaudet sucked as the camp director. Coach K sucked for not being there. And our hatred for all things Duke basketball naturally creeped back into our consciousness. Christian Laettner, Bobby Hurley, the Cameron Crazies, Cherokee Parks and everything else the world hated about Duke was now bubbling up in our psyche and reminding us that this place sucked. What were we doing here?
On the third night of camp, Pete and I retired to our dorm room at a ludicrously early hour. As we sat in our dorm room lamenting the fact that at Morgan Wooten’s camp we’d still be playing ball for another hour or two at least, we started to write down our grievances. It began as a list titled “101 things that suck about Duke Basketball Camp”, and we would write these down as we both rattled off items out loud to one another. During this process, one of us wrote on the back of a piece of paper the simple but well known phrase “DUKE SUCKS” and put it in our dorm room window facing out. As we continued making our list, we were working ourselves into hysterics at the fun we were having ridiculing all things Duke. Just as we were finishing up and getting ready to call it a night, we get a knock on our door. It’s Pete Gaudet. Crap. Our sign was in clear view of one the main walkways leading to all the dorms that the camper were staying in , and apparently it didn’t take long for word of it to reach the head of the camp. Gaudet stands in our dorm room w Pete and I sitting on each of our beds in whatever we were going to sleep in that night, and proceeds to lecture us for about an hour on the merits of respect, good behavior, etc. and all the while threatening to toss out of camp and send us home. When he finally left, we again bursted into hysterics and made fun of him until we fell asleep.
After the camp, back home we grew even more pissed at Coach K for being absent that week with the US national team, because then we would’ve had the opportunity to be lectured and yelled at by a hall of famer while getting ready for bed, which would’ve provided an even better story for our friends. But alas the hoop gods ended up being on our side, as the following basketball season saw Coach K sidelined with a back injury and Pete Gaudet was named interim head coach. Pete Gaudet led the Duke Blue Devils, fresh off of losing the NCAA title game to Arkansas, to a 2-14 record in the ACC, and the worst season Duke has had since Coach K took over the program in 1980. Thank you basketball gods. Thank you.
-Alex D.
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Maurice Evans waiting to cross 7th St in the rain… Wearing full wiz warmup gear
Georgetown Club stairwell art
“If my uniform doesn’t get dirty, I haven’t done anything in the baseball game.” - Rickey Henderson
(Source: peetersluke, via oakleavesarehands)
What’s the lesson? Michael Jordan would tear your heart out and show it to you.
March 19, 1993
Jordan had a poor night from the field against the Washington Bullets (feels good to write “Bullets”). The Bullets took a 1-point lead with five minutes left in the 4th quarter, when Michael rattles off the Bulls’ next 11, winning the game 104 - 99. Great finish, but not the focus of our lesson.
Despite the win and his own 25-point total, Jordan was angry that the man he guarded, LaBradford Smith, scored 37. Jordan told reporters,
“That was a very embarrassing situation for me. Evidently I didn’t respect the guy and he’s certainly capable of putting up some numbers, and he did. Offensively, it wasn’t going for me and I let that effect my defensive effort and that’s something I will improve on. I look forward to the challenge.”
Jordan continued, telling reporters that Smith mocked him after the game saying,
“Nice game, Mike.”
Now, Mike wants blood, and he didn’t have to wait long. The Bulls played the Bullets only one evening later, this time in Washington. As the legend goes, Jordan promised to score LaBradford’s total from the night prior - 37 points - in the first half. Now, this is a history lesson.
March 20, 1993
Jordan starts the first quarter a perfect 8 for 8 from the floor. At the end of the first, he has 19 points, 4 rebounds and 2 steals. With three seconds left in the second quarter, Jordan has 35, with two free throw attempts at the line.
Somehow, Jordan misses the second, finishing the half with “only” 36 points. The Bulls went on to rout the Bullets by 25. Jordan finished with 47 points, 8 rebounds, 4 assists and 2 steals, while guarding Smith, holding him to 5 of 12 from the floor, for 15 points, no assists, and a turnover.
A ruthless performance. One for the history books, for certain. But the story gets much better. So. Much. Better.
In 1997, Michael Jordan admitted to making the whole thing up. LaBradford never said, “Nice game, Mike.” LaBradford Smith never said a word. Jordan lied. Michael created a fake quote, a phony rivalry, just to fire himself up, so he could kill Little LaBradford and his Bullets the next night.
And in what might be the strangest wrinkle in this otherwise insane story, LaBradford Smith never denied the any of it. As a matter of fact, his Bullet teammates believed Jordan.
Don’t you get it? Michael Jordan would have to be crazy to make up a story like that, and a certifiable maniac to not only believe his own lie, but to act on it, and get his “revenge.”
It’s a good thing to remember: Michael Jordan would tear your heart out. And he’d show it to you.
