Post by rainman on Jan 31, 2008 7:01:04 GMT -5
COLUMN: WVU hits historic lows
By Bob Hertzel
For the Times West Virginian
MORGANTOWN— Now that the powers that be in this college town have finally put an end to the celebratory couch burnings, perhaps they can see fit to turning a blind eye toward one final symbolic fire.
After the way his West Virginia team played in losing to Cincinnati 62-39 Wednesday night against Cincinnati, Bob Huggins should be given special dispensation for a public burning of the garish gold suit he broke out for the occasion of coaching against his former team and former assistant Mick Cronin.
Not to say that the 10,082 fans who rushed out of the exits early to avoid becoming ill witnessed the worst performance by a Mountaineer team on its home floor since Alexis Basil was coaching the women’s team, but that’s exactly what they saw.
In fact, they witnessed history, much the way those who saw the Hindenburg go up in flames over Lyndhurst, N.J., witnessed history.
If ever a team has become “The Gang Who Couldn’t Shoot Straight,” this is it.
Whatever kind of shooting magic John Beilein injected into these Mountaineers, it has been drained from their systems as they have tried to adjust to Huggins’ style of basketball.
That, or they just were blinded by the gold suit he choose to wear on this night.
How many ways can you say this team was wilder than Rick Ankiel in his pitching days?
You could take the most mundane of approaches and note that the 39 points they scored was the second-lowest total ever scored by a Mountaineer team in the Coliseum, the 1979-80 team having scored just 38 against Duquesne on Feb. 6, 1980.
True, but hardly capturing the essence of just how off the mark the Mountaineers were.
Perhaps the best way to get the point across is to inform you that no Mountaineer team ever shot lower than the 20 percent this one shot from the field. When you consider WVU began playing basketball in 1903 when they had a ladder and a peach basket, that’s saying a whole lot.
But it gets worse.
Honest.
After West Virginia staggered through a first half in which it missed all 11 of its 3-point tries and carried the miseries almost eight minutes into the second half, Darris Nichols finally canned a 3. It would be the only 3-point shot WVU would make of 22 for the night.
For the mathematically challenged among you, we have figured the percentage, and it comes to 4.5 percent. Remember this was a team that made 371 3-point shots last year, minus Frank Young, of course, and shot 37.5 percent.
By now you are beginning to understand the magnitude of the Mountaineers’ ineptitude.
There are, of course, other ways to put it. For the game, they made only 10 field goals and until Jonnie West scored on a jumper with 36 seconds left, only four players had made baskets.
It was so absurd in the second half that they tossed as many air balls toward the general direction of the rim as baskets made — four of each. One of the air balls was so far off line that an official standing far out of the line of fire almost became collateral damage as he ducked to avoid being hit in the head with Da’Sean Butler’s shot.
Only Nichols managed to mount any kind of offense, scoring 17 points, but even there, he had but three field goals and was 1-for-6 from beyond the arc. As for his backcourt running mate, Alex Ruoff, he got himself into foul trouble, limiting his time on the floor and therefore his embarrassment, settling for 1 of 7 field goals, zip-for-5 from 3.
But the night’s Golden Brick Award went to Joe Alexander, who somehow managed to miss all nine shots he attempted. From the way he was shooting, if he had taken 19 or 90, he might not have made a basket.
It would have been comical had it not been so pathetic. So the comedy was turned over to the student section, whose members were quite amusing as they jumped on Cincinnati’s balding, red-headed, 5-foot-7 coach Mick Cronin, who had just been called for a technical foul.
“How-dy Doo-dy! How-dy Doo-dy!” they chanted, referring to the 1940s and 1950s children’s show that featured a red-headed, freckled-face character.
That was truly funny, but not as funny as the West Virginia team that decided to take on the role of Flub-a-Dub, a fictional cross-species animal that was as comical in appearance as its name would indicate.
Cronin had learned his basketball at Huggins’ knee and on this night beat him at his own game.
“They were more physical than we were. They were more aggressive. They screened better. They shot better. They held the ball better. They executed their offense better than we executed ours,” Huggins said.
Oh, yes, they were better in one other area, too.
Cronin wasn’t wearing a gold suit.
By Bob Hertzel
For the Times West Virginian
MORGANTOWN— Now that the powers that be in this college town have finally put an end to the celebratory couch burnings, perhaps they can see fit to turning a blind eye toward one final symbolic fire.
After the way his West Virginia team played in losing to Cincinnati 62-39 Wednesday night against Cincinnati, Bob Huggins should be given special dispensation for a public burning of the garish gold suit he broke out for the occasion of coaching against his former team and former assistant Mick Cronin.
Not to say that the 10,082 fans who rushed out of the exits early to avoid becoming ill witnessed the worst performance by a Mountaineer team on its home floor since Alexis Basil was coaching the women’s team, but that’s exactly what they saw.
In fact, they witnessed history, much the way those who saw the Hindenburg go up in flames over Lyndhurst, N.J., witnessed history.
If ever a team has become “The Gang Who Couldn’t Shoot Straight,” this is it.
Whatever kind of shooting magic John Beilein injected into these Mountaineers, it has been drained from their systems as they have tried to adjust to Huggins’ style of basketball.
That, or they just were blinded by the gold suit he choose to wear on this night.
How many ways can you say this team was wilder than Rick Ankiel in his pitching days?
You could take the most mundane of approaches and note that the 39 points they scored was the second-lowest total ever scored by a Mountaineer team in the Coliseum, the 1979-80 team having scored just 38 against Duquesne on Feb. 6, 1980.
True, but hardly capturing the essence of just how off the mark the Mountaineers were.
Perhaps the best way to get the point across is to inform you that no Mountaineer team ever shot lower than the 20 percent this one shot from the field. When you consider WVU began playing basketball in 1903 when they had a ladder and a peach basket, that’s saying a whole lot.
But it gets worse.
Honest.
After West Virginia staggered through a first half in which it missed all 11 of its 3-point tries and carried the miseries almost eight minutes into the second half, Darris Nichols finally canned a 3. It would be the only 3-point shot WVU would make of 22 for the night.
For the mathematically challenged among you, we have figured the percentage, and it comes to 4.5 percent. Remember this was a team that made 371 3-point shots last year, minus Frank Young, of course, and shot 37.5 percent.
By now you are beginning to understand the magnitude of the Mountaineers’ ineptitude.
There are, of course, other ways to put it. For the game, they made only 10 field goals and until Jonnie West scored on a jumper with 36 seconds left, only four players had made baskets.
It was so absurd in the second half that they tossed as many air balls toward the general direction of the rim as baskets made — four of each. One of the air balls was so far off line that an official standing far out of the line of fire almost became collateral damage as he ducked to avoid being hit in the head with Da’Sean Butler’s shot.
Only Nichols managed to mount any kind of offense, scoring 17 points, but even there, he had but three field goals and was 1-for-6 from beyond the arc. As for his backcourt running mate, Alex Ruoff, he got himself into foul trouble, limiting his time on the floor and therefore his embarrassment, settling for 1 of 7 field goals, zip-for-5 from 3.
But the night’s Golden Brick Award went to Joe Alexander, who somehow managed to miss all nine shots he attempted. From the way he was shooting, if he had taken 19 or 90, he might not have made a basket.
It would have been comical had it not been so pathetic. So the comedy was turned over to the student section, whose members were quite amusing as they jumped on Cincinnati’s balding, red-headed, 5-foot-7 coach Mick Cronin, who had just been called for a technical foul.
“How-dy Doo-dy! How-dy Doo-dy!” they chanted, referring to the 1940s and 1950s children’s show that featured a red-headed, freckled-face character.
That was truly funny, but not as funny as the West Virginia team that decided to take on the role of Flub-a-Dub, a fictional cross-species animal that was as comical in appearance as its name would indicate.
Cronin had learned his basketball at Huggins’ knee and on this night beat him at his own game.
“They were more physical than we were. They were more aggressive. They screened better. They shot better. They held the ball better. They executed their offense better than we executed ours,” Huggins said.
Oh, yes, they were better in one other area, too.
Cronin wasn’t wearing a gold suit.
