By Clay Henry
Do you remember where you were when Scotty Thurman hit the most famous basket in Arkansas basketball history?
It’s almost a cinch that at some point Wednesday it will be talked about around Razorback Nation as Arkansas plays host to Duke in what is a rare nonconference road game for the Blue Devils.
It’s part of the SEC-ACC challenge, the reason the Blue Devils are hitting the road. It’s unlikely they would ever set foot in Bud Walton Arena under any other circumstance.
And it’s fitting. The Hogs – and I bet coach Nolan Richardson wouldn’t have it any other way — had to win their only national championship in Duke’s backyard in 1994. Charlotte Coliseum is little more than two hours away from Cameron Indoor in Durham, N.C.
The Blue Devils should have given the Hogs a return game after beating them 76-72 in an arena that was mostly blue clad. When you watch the wonderful Hogs+ documentary, Dancing with the Devils, you should be keenly aware that the Hogs were playing what was akin to a road game in 1994 in that first ever game with Duke.
Yes, the Final Four is on a neutral site with the four teams getting only a few hundred tickets. But out of the 23,674 in Charlotte Coliseum, most of them were wearing Duke blue, not Razorback red.
The Dukies know how to find tournament tickets. They were playing in the national title game for the fourth time in five seasons with two titles. They were everywhere.
Expect them to have a few hundred among what might be a record Bud Walton Arena crowd on Wednesday night. It should be an incredible atmosphere and a chance for Razorback Nation to show out.
It was in Charlotte Coliseum on April 4, 1994, but back to the original question: Where were you?
Thurman has not had to ask that question over the last three decades when meeting a new Razorback friend. They volunteer it almost immediately.
I have a unique story about my seat for Thurman’s fabulous 3-point shot over Antonio Lang’s outstretched hand.
As the editor of Hawgs Illustrated magazine, it wasn’t a given I’d even be given media credentials for the NCAA tournament. Before the 1994 Final Four began, there was a policy that fan magazines didn’t qualify for a seat on press row.
I made a call to an old friend to plead my case – and for all fan magazines – to NCAA tournament director Bill Hancock. Would he consider revising the rules and give a pass to fan magazines? There were hardly any in those days.
My relationship with Hancock dates back to his days running the Big Eight Conference service bureau when I arrived at the Tulsa World in 1978. We bonded on the league’s Skywriter’s Tour as we traveled across the Midwest on an old Convair 440. Google that to find a picture of those dinosaurs of the skies.
Hancock, the retiring executive director of the College Football Playoffs, returned my call and agreed that fan magazines of each participating schools were credentialed. I got my seat on press row.
Interestingly, my father, Orville Henry, wasn’t so lucky. He hadn’t covered any of the first four games, not assigned by the sports editor of the Arkansas Democrat-Gazette. So he wasn’t credentialed.
A similar plea to Hancock from my older brother Butch, working the tournament’s media center, got my father into the arena, but in the upper deck among fans. He did have a pass that allowed him into the working area under the stands.
We both watched the first half from our assigned seats. When we met at halftime for a soda in the working area under the stands, there was talk about finding a better viewing point, mainly for my father’s benefit.
The game was on a huge screen in the interview room. No one else was in that area. We decided that was the best option and it would also allow us to hear commentary from Jim Nantz and Billy Packer with all of the replays.
That’s where we sat when Thurman’s shot tickled the twines. At that very instant, my father said, “Let’s go courtside, under the basket.” No one stopped us. That’s exactly where we stood when Clint McDaniel broke free for a layup just after the buzzer.
As Arkansas players celebrated on the court, my father turned my attention to the roar from the small Arkansas contingent to our left.
“Listen,” he said. “Do you hear that?”
Well, yes, you couldn’t help but hear them. The rest of the arena was mostly quiet. The dominant noise was from the Arkansas section.
“What you are hearing,” he said, “is the cash registers ringing for Hawgs Illustrated.”
It turned out just that way. Hawgs Illustrated was in its first two years of existence, not turning much of a profit because of the struggles of the football team.
Fortunes did change with the surge from basketball fans clamoring for more information on Nolan Richardson’s winning program. I decided to add issues in the winter to take advantage of demand.
The most profitable issue in the first 24 months of Hawgs Illustrated was four weeks later in celebration of the 1994 title. Ads were suddenly easy to sell. Subscriptions poured in.
Indeed, the cash registers did ring for Hawgs Illustrated with that victory over the Blue Devils.
Of course, it probably wouldn’t have mattered who the Hogs beat in that ’94 title game, but it’s always made me feel a little better that it was Duke.
It was a life-changing event for my family. Remember, the first game in the life of Hawgs Illustrated was a football loss to The Citadel. I’d left a great job at the Tulsa World to become editor at the magazine. Those first few months were tough.
I had left the newspaper with a letter promising if I stayed, I’d be the sports editor in less than six months. Ed Beshara, the Tulsa clothier who made Nolan’s suits, urged me to take the magazine job.
“You will never own the Tulsa World,” he said. “But you might own Hawgs Illustrated in a few years.”
That’s exactly how it turned out. It was worth owning after Thurman’s shot. I’ll never forget those seats in the bowels of Charlotte Coliseum where my father and I watched. Where were you?
