Remembering the 1984 Taber basketball tournament

It was a moment I will never forget, and one of the highlights of my basketball career.

Forty years ago today, on my 14th birthday, the St. Joseph’s School Jaguars won the consolation final of a tournament in Taber.

It was a weekend to remember that started horribly and got a whole lot better.

The season
Hockey was the sport boys played in Coaldale back in the 1980s. They played basketball as well, but whenever there was a conflict between the two, hockey always won.

That left a small school such as ours with two choices. The basketball team could have hockey players who would show up all week for practices and games, but abandon the team in an instant on weekends when we had tournaments and the playoffs. Or, hockey players were just not welcome on the team if they could not commit to playing every game.

In Grade 9, our coach decided he had had enough of not knowing how many players he would have from week to week and weekend to weekend.

The result was that, on most nights, we had six players. That meant one sub for the entire team every game. If we got in foul trouble or had back-to-back games, as we had in tournaments, we had our challenges.

At the end of my Grade 8 season, our team lost Garry Spiess, our best player, to graduation. He was second in the league in scoring, but we had one of the best Grade 8 players in Joseph Ivacak, who finished 10th in league scoring.

Until he moved to Edmonton.

We still had three Grade 9 players, but Joseph would have taken us to another level.

Instead, we had not won a league game going into this tournament in Taber.

It was a tournament St. Joe’s played in every year, and we had never had a lot of success.

Friday night darkness
Our first game was against Milk River. When we got to the gym, they just looked intimidating by the way they practised. It was with military precision.

We just did some lay-ups then shot around.

Shawn Kingston always took the opening tip for us, and usually won it. On this day, he was up against their best player, this huge mountain of a boy, with an afro, named Dewey. Not only did Dewey win the tip, but they had a play designed off it where he tipped it to their guard Ray Saga who triggered three passes and a lay up.

We didn’t know what hit us.

They were relentless, and just kept on scoring. Beyond Dewey and Ray Saga, they had another monster named Shawn Balog who also filled the net.

The game was over by halftime.

Milk River did kind of call off the dogs and put in their subs for much of the second half. They kept on scoring, partly because they kept running, and partly because we had six guys. It was brutal.

I do recall hitting double figures with 10 points, but they were hard points.

After the game, we were just shell shocked. We went back to this classroom we were changing in, and our coach just reamed us out.

“You guys played the shits,” he growled. That was the only time all season he ever said anything like that. In fact, it was the only time he even yelled at us.

I rode back to Coaldale with my friend Mike Hartman and we agreed on one thing.

It couldn’t get any worse.

Home team Saturday morning
Our loss put us on the consolation side of the tournament, and set up a date with the host team – W.R. Myers of Taber.

We heard their captain was another beast who could shoot with both hands. That seemed like a big deal.

We were loose warming up. I think that was because we really had nothing to lose. We couldn’t have had a worse game then the night before.

When Shawn lined up for the tip against their vaunted captain it was really cool. Their captain, and I really wish I would have got his name, sported this bleached red head band. He made a point of shaking Shawn’s hand and wished him and the rest of us good luck.

I felt bad that Shawn won the tip and we went down and scored. I was on the base line, got a pass, and took a a shot I practised all the time in shoot arounds before class started. However, I never got a chance to use in the offence we ran. It went in.

The next time down the court, Shawn collided with their captain, and he went down. Instead of running off, he stuck out his hand to help up Shawn while the play was still going on down the court. That act of class has always stuck with me.

After I hit my third base line jump shot, our whole bench – so our coach, one sub, and assistant coach Mr. Roth – stood up and cheered.

In one of my less than finest moments I ran past them all yelling at our coach, “I told you I could make that shot. I told you.”

He just smiled.

As the game progressed we found ourselves hanging around and eventually got the lead. I remember being able to get a bunch of offensive rebounds and putting them in. That base line jumper kept falling for me too.

We also had these two Grade 7 guards that our coach used to trap the opposing team in their own end. He called it the rabbit trap. (I just got that after 40 years). They forced some turnovers, but the bigger effect was Taber could not set up.

We ended up winning by two or three baskets. When the final whistle blew I remember spiking the ball like we scored a touchdown in the Grey Cup.

I was stunned when I saw the score sheet. I had netted 18 points to lead all scorers. I just couldn’t believe that.

When we lined up to shake hands, there was that Taber captain again. He too a minute when he shook each of our hands to tell us we played well and wished us luck in the consolation final.

I couldn’t believe that either.

We were going to the consolation final.

“You’ll have no problem”
Our game wasn’t for a few hours, so we actually all went to Dairy Queen in Taber. While we were sitting in our booth, I overheard this conversation.

It was two parents of players on teams in the same tournament.

“Who are you playing next?”

“I have never heard of them. St. Joseph’s?”

“Oh, you’ll have no problem with them.”

I just shook my head and said nothing. That was my first experience of that. People making crass comments without even thinking they may be around to overhear them.

I didn’t share that with anyone. I just put it in the back of my mind for later reference.

One for the ages
Warm up was looser than ever. We had already won a game, something we had not done in the regular season, and only once all year. That was against Redcliff in a tournament in Stirling a few weeks earlier. Anything after that win against Taber was a bonus.

We were playing Vauxhall and again they had a tall, talented centre. This guy had rosy cheeks, frizzy brown hair and just had this kindness about him.

Shawn beat him on the opening tip and again we were off. This time, we really did control the boards. Shawn pulled down a lot on defence and I got a bunch I put back for scores on offence.

We went back and forth with them, but incredibly every time they put together any sort of run, we responded.

Our biggest challenge was that we had six guys. I had played the entire game against Taber, and it was looking like that would happen with Vauxhall too.

I was getting tired, but everyone else was too.

At one point, I remember one of our guys got fouled, and had two shots. When we lined up in the blocks, I actually sat down. A minute later the same thing happened, and I sat down again.

It was enough of a rest to get me through.

Once more, there were no buzzer beaters or miracle comebacks.

We won that game by two or three baskets.

Again, at the final whistle I spiked the ball. This time I grabbed it and spiked it again.

We all hugged each other, jumping up and down, and thrusting our fists in the air.

We had won the consolation side.

I gathered up everyone and we went to shake hands. Vauxhall was all class too, and I will always remember that.

We had to wait until the final was done, where Milk River mauled some team to win the championship.

Then, they called for the captain of the St. Joseph’s Jaguars to accept the consolation trophy.

I was in my street clothes, but went up there and accepted the trophy.

It was the first one I had ever held.

My parents had come to Taber with my brother and his wife who were visiting. They were taking me to Buffalo Bill’s for my birthday. It was a pizza place with a games room in Lethbridge.

All I could think was – what a great birthday present.

Parting thoughts
Afterwards, my coach said something to me that was quite profound. I had observed that we seemed to do well playing teams outside our league. We won that game in Stirling then two in Taber. He said that was the point of tournaments – you don’t realize how tough our league actually is.

That tournament also echoed in my life for years.

When I was in Grade 8, my Mom, sister and I took a bus tour to Disneyland. There weren’t many boys my age on that bus. There was one, Ulf Larson, who I befriended and we spent a lot of time together. We also talked about basketball, and how we both played – me in Coaldale, and him in Milk River.

Ulf was one of the subs that Milk River team put in when they blew us out. I was actually guarding him, but he had no memory of me.

When I started Grade 11, I went to my first English 20 class and there was this new kid in class. We got assigned to some group work and he was in my group. He had rosy cheeks and frizzy brown hair. He said his name was Brad and he moved to Coaldale from Vauxhall. It took me a minute, but I remembered him. He remembered me too. A year later we, and all our classmates, would cross the stage together as graduates of Kate Andrews High School. Brad even gave the toast to parents at our graduation banquet. This, after Brad's dad gave this amazing and emotional toast to the grads.

The weirdest thing happened about 15 years ago. I had been playing basketball Tuesday nights at the LDS Church for years. One night, this huge guy named Dalton Rowland showed up asking if he could play. He was very nice, and gracious, and he fit right in.

Afterwards one of the guys asked him where he was from. Dalton said he was from Milk River.

I turned and said that, “Back in junior high we played Milk River in a tournament and they smoked us. They had two big guys – Shawn Balog”.

“Balog,” Dalton nodded.

“And this guy named Dewey who was just a beast.”

“I’m Dewey,” he said.

“Oh,” I stuttered. “You’ve grown up.”

We both laughed.

Dewey became a close friend until he moved away a few years ago.

One last, odd coincidence.

Dewey and I were at a basketball tournament at the high school, talking to one of the teaching assistants.

Milk River came up, and she said she had a cousin who played basketball there.

“Who’s that?” Dewey asked.

“Ray Saga”.

It is a small world.

And it all started 40 years ago today