Jack Curran, NYC High School Hoops Pontiff -- RIP

Jack Curran
(Illustration: molloy.org)

Jack Curran, who coached high school basketball and baseball in New York City for over a half-century, passed away earlier this week.

The late coach's prominence can be measured by his obit on the lead sports page of The New York Times, a Lenn Robbins column in The New York Post that recalled Curran's life and career, a Wall Street Journal notice, and an Associated Press story that the Long Island-centric newspaper Newsday ran. The piece I found touching was New York Post beat writer Zach Braziller's heartfelt, self-deprecating remembrance of "Mr. Curran." Not bad for a high school coach.

The obits demonstrate just how profoundly Curran's story links with Gotham's close relationship with basketball. He coached a number of future NBA stars, notably Kenny Anderson, Kevin Joyce, Kenny Smith, and Brian Winters. Curran's former players also included some who later became hoop coaches. He also was well known in the college game, with basketball deities such as Dean Smith among the people Curran could (and did) call, get his call answered, his request acknowledged and usually addressed.

Curran was a significant locus of the New York Catholic basketball coaching crowd, which over the years featured, among others, Lou Carnesecca, Frank McGuire, Rick Pitino, Bob Hurley (New Jersey's version of Curran), Billy Donovan, and (my favorite by far) Al McGuire. (For a thoughtful, splendidly written insight into this world, read David Halberstam's "He Got a Shot in the NBA, and It Went In," from the collection Everything They Had: Sports Writing from David Halberstam.) Most of their action was spawned in the Northeast, with some outposts, such as Al McGuire's Marquette teams, in the Midwest. New York was this world's heart and soul; Curran lived and breathed that atmosphere. Sometimes, his high school team -- the Archbishop Molloy Stanners -- played in Madison Square Garden. Yes, it was a big deal.

Archbishop Molly HS
(photo: Wikipedia)

The Stanner coach's office at Molloy was not far from the track and field section of the locker room. I was a shot putter through most of my Molloy high school years. (In case you're wondering, I sucked at shot put.) Curran kept to his world, although he often acted as if the track team, which had won many more team championships than his basketball squads had, was an annoying swarm of gnats. The track team's head coach at the time was Frank Rienzo, who eventually became Georgetown's athletic director. He did not tolerate fools and he was bluntly outspoken on matters athletic, political, or personal. For the record, I never witnessed any banter between the legendary basketball coach and the proud, accomplished track boss. Ever.

During the spring athletic season, Molloy's pole vaulters, shot putters, discus hurlers, and javelin throwers practiced inside the track oval. The baseball team, which Curran coached, sometimes practiced in the oval, probably on a shared schedule. Well, one day, Curran and his squad came out with bats and balls and made a move to practice inside the oval, in what seemed an apparent and arrogant violation of the coaches' agreement. The field teams were conducted by a mild-mannered Marist brother from the same Grace family that owned W.R. Grace. When he saw what was coming our way, the man of Christ summoned Mike, the best we had with a spear. "Mike," our coach said, "I want you to practice for distance now." Mike took the hint and let fly.

Now, why anyone would let a teenage boy hurl metal spears around an infield still unnerves me. I'm not alone in that thought: it only took one javelin toss for Curran to get the message. The baseball team quickly retreated from the track area. For the pontiff of New York high school sports, it was a humbling moment, and one that to this day I remember fondly.

Michael Wolff Reveals Rupert Murdoch Family's Crisis

A rarely discussed subject is the private life of Rupert Murdoch and his family. The highly secretive senior leadership of the People's Republic of China is better known than the habits and pleasures of the Murdoch clan. For a media magnate whose power is partly based on a relentless invasion and manipulation of others' privacy, the desire to remain out of the public eye is understandable.

That's why the recent Ad Week article by Michael Wolff on the Murdoch family crisis is such compelling reading. The article, among other issues, suggests why Rebekah Brooks has such Rasputin-like grip on the Murdochs. Wolff (photo), a knowledgeable New York-based media writer, has written an excellent piece. It's buried in a trade magazine probably because the subject is just too hot for major media outlets to handle.

Frankly, the competition to the Murdoch empire should not be beating its chest too strongly over its coverage of the UK phone hacking scandal. Most American media, with the exception of The New York Times, has largely downplayed coverage of the appalling scale of Murdoch's blackmail operation. This is hardly a surprise. Historically, most American media outlets have conducted character assassination pieces and distorted journalism similar to the Murdoch style. David Halberstam's The Powers That Be, an excellent history of selected American media from post World War II to Watergate, details some of the more egregious media sins. There are plenty of shameful moments to go around; Fox News is hardly unique in this regard.

What's clear for the time being is that the Murdoch media empire is on the defensive. We'll see how long that lasts, before the empire strikes back.

A Day in Jury Rooms

I spent today fulfilling my jury duty requirement. Just before lunch, a judge requested forty of my peers and I into the courtroom. The voir dire (i.e., the jury selection process) began in earnest after lunch. One question the judge asked prospective jurors fascinated me. He asked how we the jurors followed the news. What did we read? What did we watch?

The answers were remarkable. The majority clearly didn't have or dedicate much time on a daily basis to following current news events. Think of them as scanners, typically of cable news programs and a couple of MSM websites. Some read local news via the web. Almost no one read a print version of a newspaper. Magazines never entered the conversation. In fact, the very idea of a printed newspaper or periodical seemed alien to this group. One person even claimed he got his news from watching The Daily Show. He wasn't kidding.

The information was in striking contrast to what I observed that morning in the crowded jury assembly room. My informal, visual survey showed that only four people, of the approximately one hundred in the room, had an iPad. (No one had a Nook or a Kindle.) About a dozen brought laptop computers. Just about everyone had a cellphone, and many in that group were actively texting and checking e-mail. Another dozen were reading from printed books, including hardcover versions. (The hardcovers surprised me.) Let's say another ten read printed newspapers or magazines. Some people watched the one television in the room, and seemed content with morning tube content such as The Rachael Ray Show and The View. Others did not immerse themselves in any sort of media, device, or book. They either talked with someone seated near them, or stayed to themselves. Ironically, I finished a paperback version of David Halberstam's The Powers That Be, an informed history of selected, elite American media and its interaction with the nation's social, political, and cultural currents from World War II through Watergate. I wondered what he would have thought of the media choices in today's jury rooms. (A 2003 interview of Halberstam is linked here.)

It's not often one can view a cross section of the local population and gain insight into how they obtain information. The jury assembly room, and the trial judge's focused questions in voir dire, provided some surprising results. My conclusion was that print newspapers are in serious trouble, and I can only hope that comedians are not this decade's version of Walter Cronkite.

The poster publicizes the late Sidney Lumet's movie 12 Angry Men.

Maurice Lucas

Maurice Lucas, one of my favorite pro basketball players, recently passed away at age 58. The cause of death was bladder cancer.

He died in Portland, Oregon, the city where "Luke" made his NBA mark as a key member of the TrailBlazers' only championship team. He was the team's power forward, leading rebounder, a capable scorer, and on-court bodyguard for Bill Walton and Portland's other finesse players. He was an iconic figure in a city and region as distant from Lucas' childhood in Pittsburgh's Hill district as possible.

Lucas' rise to the pro game, his adventures in it, and his life after it, do not lack for colorful anecdotes. The New York Times ran Luke's obit, but managed to distill most of the jazz out of his story. The Oregonian ran his obit, a memoriam from their basketball beat writer, and features interviewing people who knew Lucas well: his former coach Jack Ramsay and current Portland coach and former teammate Nate McMillan.

I only saw Luke's game via TV. However, I loved reading stories about him. David Halberstam's excellent The Breaks of the Game offers a wonderful, understanding portrait of Lucas. The author describes, among other things, Luke's days as a star Marquette University player. The college team's coach was Al McGuire, whom Halbertstam noted was the rare coach who "played five" -- that is, five African-American players on the court at the same time.

Halberstam also describes Lucas' time with the Spirits of St. Louis, an aptly named American Basketball Association team. The team's roster included Moses Malone, Marvin Barnes, Don Cheney, M.L. Carr and was coached at one point by Rod Thorn. The radio announcer was Bob Costas. The RemembertheABA link has more very entertaining stories and rare player photos.

It's easy to think that Luke's style of intimidating play doesn't really fit into today's pro game. While that notion may be desirable for the NBA league office to promote, today's game is just as harsh as it was in Luke's day. Players fight and work hard to physically and mentally intimidate their opponents, just as Luke did. The dirty work just wasn't as expensive when Lucas was in his prime as it is today.

Luke said as much to the current Portland team, a good, talented squad that Lucas helped coach and guide. The Oregonian's beat writer relates this story, and it neatly characterizes Lucas and an era:

During the 2008 season the Blazers got intimidated by a screaming, posturing, trash-talking Kevin Garnett in a loss at Boston. Rookie Greg Oden was on his first NBA road trip, and his eyes were wide as saucers after the game.

Lucas, then a Blazers assistant, walked past and said that nobody trash-talked like Garnett during his career. “Back then,” Lucas said, “it was only a $50 fine for punching a guy in the mouth.”

I will never forget the looks on the faces of the young Blazers.