Alright, lets be honest. When the schedule came out in September, and you were circling which games were "must-see" and which mid-week games you'd give your tickets away for, Drake was at the top of the latter list. A rather non-descript team with a new coach and two former walk-ons as starters doesn't do a lot to inspire excitement. Particularly in the mainstream media, who picked them to finish in the bottom third of the league.
Yours truly gave them more credit than the people who get paid to know better, but I still only picked them to finish seventh. The lesson here is that I should not be confused with Nostradamus anytime soon. Oh, watch out, you're going to knock over your water/coffee/soda/Heee-Haw glass! Its going to be a minor mess of inconvenient proportions!
Yeah, it didn't happen, did it? You weren't even drinking water/coffee/soda/Heee-Haw, were you? That prediction was worth about as much as me picking Drake seventh, or the people who get paid to know better who picked them lower than that.
*****
My dad has consistently been one of the 500 remaining Drake fans in the world, stemming from his days as a college student there in the early '70s. His stories of their Final Four in 1969, when juxtaposed with their years upon years of horrible basketball that coincided with my lifetime, made his tales of Dolph Pullium and The Wonder Bulldogs seem absurdist. Drake? In the Final Four? Right, dad. You bet.
Of course, it did happen, and it was a dang good team that Maury John coached in those years. The Bulldogs did go to the Final Four, and the loss to UCLA was every bit as dramatic as our dad described, although the story got better as years went on, like so many dad stories tend to do. By the time my brother and I were in high school, suddenly that Drake team was an undefeated juggernaut that UCLA was only able to beat because the officials refused to let Drake win.
Someday, he said, Drake would return. Someday, he promised us, they'd be better than Iowa and Iowa State. They'd rule the state, he proclaimed. This was in the mid-nineties, mind you, when Tom Davis and Tim Floyd were taking Iowa and Iowa State, respectively, to the NCAA Tournament every year and Rudy Washington was coaching Drake to a continued state of perpetual horribleness.
Seemed like more than a bit of a reach. I mean, he'd been taking us to Drake games for years at Veterans Memorial Auditorium, a ghastly airplane hangar of an arena with a burgundy curtain draped across one end of the building to cover what was presumably a brick wall, and that was a BAD basketball team that wasn't getting better any time soon. Even a move into the shiny new Knapp Center in the early nineties did nothing to resuscitate a moribund program.
First Gary Garner, then Rudy Washington, then the Jimmy-V-wannabe Tom Abatemarco, and finally Kurt Kanaskie had tried and failed to win at Drake. The latter coach got Drake their most notoriety in decades when half of his starters were put on academic suspension, and he was forced to field a team with seven players. They got a feature on ESPN's "Outside The Lines" and a few stories in national newspapers, most of which drew the following response: "Wait, they still play basketball at Drake?"
By that time, I was in school at Creighton and was actively cheering against his Bulldogs, or at least, passively cheering against them, considering how non-competitive the games generally were. He proudly wore a Creighton sweatshirt and came to games in Omaha because of me, but he kept that Drake shirt in his closet, and he still proclaimed that someday they'd be back. Only now he included another school in his proclamation. Someday they'd be better than Iowa, Iowa State and Creighton.
Soon thereafter, my brother had chosen to go to Northern Iowa, and his chances of seeing one of his sons go to Drake were over. Basketball-wise, Northern Iowa was no better than Drake, although they had enjoyed more recent success in the NCAA Tournament with a 1989 berth and upset of Missouri. That was before their Missouri Valley Conference days, back when the Panthers were in a now-defunct league with Wisconsin Green Bay and schools of that ilk. After my brother graduated, Northern Iowa basketball enjoyed the sort of hoops renaissance that had long been predicted for Drake. Don't think this went unnoticed, either. For one of the 500 Drake fans in existence, it hurt him.
That year at Christmas, we had a rather long and spirited debate about whether Drake should just give up and move to Division II, or perhaps even Division III so they could stop giving out scholarships. It had been so long and so many had failed so spectacularly, maybe it was time to lay down their sword, give up fighting the good fight poorly, and go to a lower level where they could compete. Oh, he was having none of this. Someday, Drake would return. Sure they would. You bet.
And then one day, they lured Dr. Tom Davis out of retirement. Forced out at Iowa after 15 seasons of winning but never winning big, he had become reclusive although most suspected he could still coach. I remember thinking at the time that winning 20 games a year and going to the NCAA Tournament on a consistent basis, winning in the first round every year and losing in the second round every year might get you fired at Iowa, but at Drake they'd name the court for you and erect a statue.
Surely, if he couldn't resuscitate the Bulldogs, it couldn't be done. From a PR standpoint, it was genius. Everyone in Iowa knew Tom Davis, and whether you were in the camp who forced him out or were in the camp that hated to see him go, you knew one thing: the guy could coach. Maybe he couldn't win big enough to satisfy the Big Ten, big money alums at Iowa, but he wouldn't have to win big at Drake. When you haven't won in almost four decades, his resume at Iowa sounds pretty good. If he could use his 15 years of contacts with local high school coaches to get players, if he could use his name-recognition to raise money, then maybe he could do the impossible: get people to care about Drake basketball again. Make them relevant beyond their 500 remaining hardcore fans.
And when it didn't happen right away, you began to wonder if it was possible. Maybe you just couldn't win at Drake anymore. Basketball fans in Des Moines got their fix by watching Iowa State field a Top Ten team, and by bitching about Steve Alford in Iowa City. Nobody paid attention to Drake.
Slowly, though, Dr. Tom built a foundation. That's the thing about a program that had sunk as low as Drake: you couldn't go for a quick-fix and win right away. Recruiting JuCo players and marginal qualifiers wouldn't work, yet that was the mistake so many had made before him. You had to build a foundation before you could build up from there. He was doing that, and before long, there were tangible results.
In December of 2006, the Bulldogs pulled off something amazing. They beat Iowa State in Ames, and they blew out Iowa in Des Moines. The latter was truly amazing; in a Nationally Televised ESPNU game, they not only beat Iowa, they embarrassed them. It was the game that sealed Steve Alford's exit from Iowa City, and the win that signaled that Drake was relevant again. That people needed to pay attention to what was happening in Des Moines.
After a quick start, the team faltered down the stretch and finished a disappointing 6-12 in the MVC. But they went 17-15 overall, their first winning season in a generation. You have to build a foundation before you can build up.
With the foundation laid, Dr. Tom retired and left the keys to his son Keno. What's happened since then is nothing short of miraculous. They started the season in California at the St. Mary's Tipoff Classic, where they did what they were supposed to do: lose the championship game to the host school. And they haven't lost since.
That was November 10, two weeks before Thanksgiving. Drake is undefeated since that night, winners of 15 straight and sporting records of 16-1 overall and 7-0 in the Valley. They've won close games, they've won blowouts, they've won when they don't play their best, they've survived (and thrived!) after losing their best player to injury. They're ranked in the Top 25 and in sole possession of first place in the MVC on January 21.
Someday, he proclaimed, Drake would return. Someday, Drake would be great again. Apparently someday is now. I hope you kept your tickets for the game and didn't give them away back in November, because with all apologies to Oregon, this might be the best team to play in the Qwest Center this year. That's debatable, to be sure, and I'm sure I'll hear from some people in Red who will squawk at the very notion of such a thing. What's not debatable is that Drake is the most intriguing team to play in Omaha this year, certainly the best story, and a team that people should be excited to see in person.
I'll be in 113, as always, cheering loudly. My dad, as he always is for Creighton-Drake games, will be there with me, cheering politely for the Bulldogs.
Personally, this cute little story has gone on long enough. I can't wait until the Jays send these Bulldogs back to the pound. Enough is enough. Because honestly, I'm not sure I can handle listening to tales of "Drake's Renaissance" for the next 30 years of my life, like I've listened to the tales of "Drake's Finest Hour" for the last 30 years of my life. Please. Win this one for me. I'm begging you.
You bet.
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