By Ben Krehbiel
It was March 1994. Actually it was Wednesday, March 2, 1994.
How do you know what fun really is when it seems like every day of growing up Krehbiel was a blast. I may be guilty of selective memory, but my Junior year in high school could not have gone much better. In my 2nd year at T.R. Miller High School, I did not have lofty expectations at the start of the basketball season. The year before I failed to make the talented varsity team, and started out as the point guard for the JV team. My first game was at Clarke County, and I think I played a decent game until the last 10 seconds. As Clarke County just tied the game, I took the inbounds pass from under our basket and started confidently dribbling up the court seeking an opportunity to win the game. I was even a little more excited because the defender guarding me could not have been taller than 5’5″. I took a few dribbles towards half court when all of the sudden he popped the ball lose, retrieved it while I dove helplessly to the floor only to look up and watch him complete the layup and execute the easiest buzzer beater in the history of the game. I was devastated, and somehow managed to get a ride home with mom and cried for the two-hour trip. Ok, so that day wasn’t that great.
But after a pedestrian stint at point guard, my coach, Ronald Jackson, decided to put our most athletic, and individually talented forward, Anthony (Rock) Johnson, at point guard and told me to shoot the ball. I remember one of the last JV games at Monroeville it was almost like Coach Jackson stopped the world to figure out ways to let me shoot the ball. I could be wrong, but in my mind many of our timeouts were just Coach Jackson telling me to shoot 3s on the baseline. They must have been playing a zone. I hit 5 threes that game…no idea how many attempts, but I am pretty sure that those 5 threes came in a matter of 6 or 7 shots. This was only 15 years before the times of Stephen Curry making double-digit 3PT FG made something routine. That Monroeville game was huge for my confidence and helped the foundation for my place on varsity the next year.
So I remember being physically outmatched against much of the team. I wasn’t the strongest. I wasn’t the tallest. I sure as hell wasn’t the shortest, and my speed and quickness led one of my favorite teammates, Ricky Middleton, to affectionately call me ‘greased lightning’. To start the season I was still trying to fit in. For the first 3-4 games of the year I was the 3rd player off the bench, and did not get very much playing time. We started the year very poorly, losing ?4 of our first 5 or 6 games?. We hosted a “County Tourney” early in the year and my grandparents Ken and Darda came to watch. I’m almost certain I was not a starter. But that was a very special tournament. I remember shooting well the first game and our team won to go against a tough Escambia County High School (Atmore) team. The championship game was back and forth and a tough battle. At some point late 3Q or early 4Q, it was magical for me. I single handedly scored 15 points in a row to lead our team to victory. That was the day I won my teammates over, especially the senior leader, Alan Terrell. He was so pumped after winning that tournament he grabbed me in the locker room and said ‘That’s D1 effort right there.” and for someone that wasn’t quick to hand out compliments, it was a great moment. The next game I think was at an Andalusia 8 team tournament, and I think we lost but I had 20 pts and made the tourney team. Great momentum, although our team, I believe was 3-5 at the Christmas Break.
I remember our first practice after Christmas, which highly likely could have been Monday, December 26th. And while our team showed some nice spurts, we were not playing to our potential at all. Coach Jackson got our attention the first practice back from “break.” My memory may not be great, but I’m not sure we even touched a basketball. Coach Jackson started us on the baseline, which is how we normally ended practice. He would usually break us into two running groups of about 5-7 players each if it was just varsity practicing, and typically he’d put about 15 minutes on the clock and we would run 5 ‘5 in a minute’s (5 times down in back in one minute), 5 ladders/suicides (baseline, ft line, half court, ft line, full court) and 5 ‘down & back’s in 9 seconds. That was usually our staple. But Coach Jackson always seemed to put more time on the clock than he intended — perhaps to keep us from knowing how much work we should expect or we never really knew what he planned. He didn’t tell us before running how much we were going to run.
Well, this very UNmerry Christmas break return seemed a little different, as he put up 60:00 minutes on the scoreboard. I don’t think we’d ever seen that before, but none of us thought that number was very significant because it wasn’t an indication of what the plan was.
While I never recall starting practice with sprints, we started this one, as usual, with the ‘5 in a minute’ sprints. As the clock ticked near the 50:00 mark with the second group finishing their last of five ‘5 in a minute’ sprints, I believe the first running group was preparing to start the typical 5 ladders next. But that command from coach never came, and we just kept running 5 in a minutes (essentially only getting a minute rest while the other group is running). The clock approached 40:00 and everyone was hoping for some change…but it didn’t come either. We continued and as we were getting stretched, Coach Jackson brilliantly said ‘all except 1 in your group have to make time’, and while we were already disoriented from doubling our usual routine and mentally and physically fatigued, after a few more the group worked together to carry the load while letting one person fail to make it…usually rotating that lottery ticket around.
By my memory we ran 15 ‘5 in a minutes’ before Coach Jackson switched to ladders. We had 28 seconds to complete each one. Instead of 5…I’m almost certain we ran 30 of them. If we didn’t complete 30, then I’m sure the last minute or two were down and backs in 9 seconds. But I’m almost certain we did fifteen ‘5 in a minutes’ and 30 ladders. I’m pretty sure that was the end of practice. I honestly don’t remember if anyone quit.
I also seem to remember coach putting 6 minutes on the clock and told us to run 22? laps around the gym to equal a mile. Today Google tells me it’s 18.33 laps for a mile, but we had to run it under 6 minutes. I think that was the only time in my life I made it under 6 minutes, which makes me question how many laps I actually ran. Probably impossible to count AND run when you hate running. So we may have started practice out with this and then went to the baseline.
The reason this practice is so significant in my mind for this 1994 season was that we only lost 2 or 3 more games the rest of the season.
** Final Four game (1-11 or 1-13, who knows….1 for Wednesday captures it)
***Lockerroom
This defeat was crushing. After having a string of 7-8 games of shooting very well and being a leader on this journey, the worst game of my life in the Birmingham Jefferson Civic Center on this night would be a scar for me for years to follow. In fact, it also is responsible for the venue of the greatest Kansas Basketball team losing their 2nd game of the season in March 1997 to the eventual underdog champions, Arizona Wildcats. So painful.
But after my terrible performance, I remember being benched for significant minutes in the 4th quarter, which was a first for me since cracking the starting lineup early in the season. I felt helpless. When the game was over, I was in shock, because I didn’t cry – which is what I expected after doing so nearly every year of my life watching the Jayhawks in March! But I remember pacing the large lockerroom in the facility. Ken and Darda even made a return trip to Bama to watch this game. I felt like I let my team down. I don’t remember any significant interactions with my teammates in the locker room. I remember folks being quiet and dejected, changing out of their uniform and backing up their gear. I just kept pacing…in full uniform. I think it was only Marlon Ried and I remaining. I kept pacing and started to think about what my family may be thinking as I knew they were likely anxious to see me. As this nudge grew, I decided to head toward the locker room door. As I got within 10 feet of the door, it surprisingly swing open, and a monster of a man with Great Presence walked confidently through that door. It was my dad. Even though I had made up my mind to walk out of the lockerroom to see my family, I was unprepared for this. Dad took a step or two towards me as we met in one of the Greatest Embraces in my lifetime. If it were a competition, I’d put it up as the best hug in the history of mankind. It certainly was to me in that moment. I remember him saying “I’m so proud of you” and “I love you so much” and those words completely disarmed me. My stronghold barrier of toughness was exposed as a façade. I cried uncontrollably in my father’s arms. And felt completely comforted. It’s a hug that I’ll never forget. I also often reflect back on this hug as a glimpse of what I imagine God’s hug feels like. All encompassing, overwhelming, and complete Love.
***HUG
I am nearly positive we left Birmingham and came straight home after that season ending, disappointing loss.
