Underrated H - Hinkle Huskers

Please, whatever you do, you faithful readers out there in the interlands, do NOT root for Butler. If you are not a Butler Alum or a resident of the Butler-Tarkington/MKNA neighborhoods of Indianapolis, do not make this team the spunky underdog you are going to pull for. If you have never been to Hinkle Fieldhouse to see a game, don't know who Barry Collier is, haven't heard of A.J. Graves, Mike Green, Rylan Hainje, Joel Cornette, Darnell Archey, Jon Neuhouser, Jermaine Guice, or Darin Archbold, STAY THE EFF AWAY FROM THIS TEAM BECAUSE YOU WILL RUIN THEM.

I say this only kind of jokingly, because for the last twenty years Butler has defined the rise of the Mid-Major in college basketball, and they've done so, in part, by always being slightly underrated. In the early 90's, I went to way too many Butler games when I should have been doing Chemistry homework or trying to get dates with girls. However, this wasn't foolish escapism. The fact was that Butler was putting high-caliber basketball on display every time they hit the floor of hallowed Hinkle. It wasn't until 1997 that they finally made an NCAA tournament for the first time since old man Hinkle was at the helm; they were a casualty of an exceptionally competitive conference and conference tourney in the MCC and Horizon. However, I remember the level of play exhibited from 1991-1996 and it was indistinguishable from some of the middle rung Big Ten and Big East schools. And of course, within a few years of their first NCAA shot, Butler made a run at knocking off highly-ranked Florida, a feat they would repeat in 2007 when they nearly derailed the Gators who were on their way to a second consecutive championship.

Despite this success, Butler still doesn't sell out every home game. And they play their home games in the stadium where Hoosiers was filmed for jeebus' sake. Somehow this all helps them. Butler rosters are usually composed of a bunch of kids who wouldn't start on ACC, SEC or Big Ten teams because they aren't quite selfish or flashy enough. AJ Graves would've gotten clean-up minutes at IU. Mike Green transferred from a small Philadelphia school and when he got to Butler played like he was trying destroy every "big-time" program who passed on him. He made every player on Butler's team better and played harder and stronger than guys a foot taller than him. Darnell Archey came to Butler and showed everyone else in basketball what consistency and dedication really was. He hit 85 free-throws in a row at one point in the season. And still, the bleachers in the top of the Fieldhouse aren't always full.

During a heated game against the Evansville Aces in 1991, I was sitting above the Butler goal watching the action unfold. The game was close and the star players, Parrish Casebier for Evansville and Darin Archbold for Butler, were going at it, hammer and tongs. On this particular play, Casebier, wearing the metaphorical black hat, wound up guarding Archbold. Archbold had a killer jumper and a nose for the open space where shots develop--a skill best honed, not through practice with coaches and teammates, but by spending hour upon hour in open gyms with aggressive middle-aged guys who hip-check you every time you try to curl around a screen. You don't call fouls because they'll just call you a pussy under their breath and hit you with a sweaty hamboned elbow in the chest the next time down. Instead, you find the space and you stick the jumper right in their face and then swat the shit out of their lay-up when they attempt to exact some ill-advised revenge.

But I digress. Casebier saved his best stuff for Butler. He was a slick kid, with a bowling ball physique and a nasty attitude. He would talk trash all game and light up anybody who gave him too much room. He would also defend with his beer-belly, which worked because he was still faster than everyone else, despite his layer of insulation. The memory I have of this moment is short and sweet and quintessential Butler basketball. Archbold took a pass and dribbled around a high screen, Casebier switched to him and stuck his tummy into Archbold's hip. Archbold drove toward the baseline and elevated about eight feet from the hoop, with Casebier riding him the whole time, and cooly called out "backboard" as he banked in his shot off the glass while the ref blew his whistle.


In that "backboard," I heard the voice of every kid who I ever played against in my backyard. And Butler has always been made up of the best backyard players. The guys who throw no-look bounce passes, not because it makes them look good, but because their teammates wouldn't dare miss the lay-up after such a great pass. The guys who learned how to bank it from eighteen feet because the rim was just tight enough that a slightly off-center shot would thunk off the iron, as opposed to trickling through as the shot would on a more forgiving, professional rim.

Butler has always been in my backyard. And I feel guilty for not going to enough games, even though I've been to quite a few. So I know the rest of my friends, neighbors, and peers, particularly those who profess to be Hoosiers and basketball fans, must feel extra dopey every March when the Bulldogs make their annual stand against the Goliaths of the basketball world. And therefore, I once again plead with you: do not make this Saturday the night you turn Butler into your prize pony instead of your rented mule. They have been underrated for going on twenty years now. And it works for them. They thrive on it. The minute all us yahoos who didn't really pay attention to which one was Howard and which one was Hayward start cheering and dipping chips in Butler's honor, they lose that advantage. So go cut your grass or plant your tomatoes. But don't play pretend Butler fan.



Save that for next Saturday...