The Ball State player surveyed the baseball cap worn by JohnThompson Jr. last night. 'You were looking to see if it saidGeorgetown or Ball State, weren't you?' Big John said, playfullychiding the young man.
The cap had only an embroidered 'T' -- for Thompson.
Neutrality in a surname. Nice.
'Name-branding,' he explained. 'I've been doing it for a fewyears.'
Same goes for John III and Ronny, the two Division I basketballcoaches Big John Thompson fathered, mentored and who faced offagainst one another at Verizon Center. Proud but a little pained,their pops had to feel like a member of the Barber family whenTiki's Giants and Ronde's Buccaneers collide on a Sunday.
John III's Hoyas were supposed to win by 20. But no one in theThompson family wanted to see Ronny's Cardinals get beat down in hisfirst year; that just wouldn't be brotherly.
'You win either way,' Big John was told before Georgetown won, 69-54.
'I lose either way, too,' he said, letting out a bear of a laugh.
This is a tale of two little boys who one day were being escortedby their father to the top of War Memorial Arena in Rochester, N.Y.,after Georgetown knocked off Syracuse in 1974 and the next werewearing immaculately tailored black blazers and resplendent ties,working the same sidelines they grew up watching Pops work.
'It was my first away game in Rochester,' remembered RichChvotkin, who called his 1,000th Georgetown game last night. 'I canstill see Coach bringing both of them all the way up there to thetop, all tired out by the time he got there. 'I'm not doin' thisagain,' he said.'
The boys were both there the night their father lost an emotionalthriller to Dean Smith in the 1982 national title game, the nightMichael Jordan hit the shot and Fred Brown turned the ball over toJames Worthy in the final seconds. Big John likened the hug he gotthat night from Dean Smith, his very good friend, to the hug Ronnywould get from John III last night.
'I never had a brother, so that's the closest thing I can thinkof,' he said. 'If you look at Dean and the expression on his facewhen he came to hug me, it wasn't an expression of joy. He washappy, but he knew he'd beaten a good friend and I think it took alittle bit of that feeling of euphoria away.'
If Georgetown-Ball State was indeed about family ties, it wasalso about two programs at the moment traveling in disparatedirections.
The Hoyas were too big and polished for Ball State. In a collegehoops world full of reckless chuckers from beyond the arc, the Hoyasare the rare, skilled interior passing team. It was nothing for JeffGreen to trade in a five-foot jumper for Jessie Sapp's two-footlayup. Twenty of the Hoyas' 25 field goals were assisted.
They kept re-posting 7-foot Roy Hibbert until he got inches fromthe rim. Early on, Georgetown back-doored Ball State like Princeton,John III's alma mater, once back-doored UCLA out of the NCAAtournament.
Ronny's team did not go down easily, coming within 22-18 withseven minutes left in the first half and furiously trying to staywithin 20 in the second half. They threw full- and half-court trapsat the Hoyas and waited for Georgetown's big men to put the ball onthe floor to swipe it away. On the occasions they forced a turnover,their guards went into hyper-drive, flying down the lane without acare for their bodies.
The personalities of the teams were distilled as much as the menwho guide them. John III's crew: patient, mostly precise, unshakablewith flailing arms and chests in their faces. Ronny's group:relentless, full of kinetic energy and unbowed against the 21st-ranked team in the nation.
'Ronny was always the impulsive one, acting on his emotions,' BigJohn said. 'He's more like me on the sideline, going on what hefeels sometimes more than what he thinks. John is the thinker,always weighing things before he makes a decision what to do.'
That theme carried over to the postgame news conference, whereRonny went for the laughs before answering thoughtfully and JohnIII, wiping his brow with a white towel like his father used to, wasmore measured and calculating. He took no great pleasure in beatingRonny, actually inquiring whether he could persuade Ball State'sathletic director to cancel next year's game. 'I'm glad it's over,'he said.
'You all like to write about Pops and Coach Carril,' he added,referring to Big John and former Princeton coach Pete Carril, thetwo men often credited with influencing John III most as a coach.'But Ronny is my biggest resource in this business. I don't know ifhe would say that about me, but he's mine.'
In the middle of the first half, Ronny floated up and down theVerizon Center sideline. In his jet-black ensemble, red-sheen tieand white silk handkerchief peeking from his lapel, he looked lesslike a D-I coach and more like a Neiman Marcus catalog model. Heoften gives his brother grief about his wardrobe over the telephone,but John III also came well-dressed last night, sporting a smart,gray-blue striped tie. If Ronny was Vanity Fair last night, John IIIwas definitely Brooks Brothers.
Early yesterday morning, John III stopped by Big John's house.Ronny's children were staying there and Uncle John wanted to makesure he got to see his niece and nephew before they left town afterthe game.
'He gave Ronny's son Dylan a great, big hug and told him, 'I loveyou,' ' Big John said.
'Then I said, 'Yeah, he's saying that now. But he's going to tryand beat the hell out of your father tonight.' '
No one got knocked out of their bracket or upset or ridiculouslyblown out. Ball State-Georgetown was competitive, even though JohnIII's team was larger and better. And with all the cameras moving infor the love-thy-brother shot at the final buzzer, it felt like lessof a ballgame than an awkward family reunion.
Big John said he was torn about who he wanted to win, 'but I'mmore proud than anything.' The two little boys who climbed thosesteps with him 30-odd years ago were all grown up now, carrying onPops' legacy, doing what their old man did for a living.
