Villanova’ Trip To ‘85 Big Dance Can’t Be Matched

They call the NCAA Tournament the Big Dance. I like the name because it sounds so inclusive.

The best spectacle in college sports is open to 64 teams. Invitees are big and small, wealthy and poor, famous and obscure.

They don’t all dance the same step to the same music. Some teams like to rhumba. Others waltz. But all share the same dream.

The dream of looking up at the scoreboard clock, with the crowd counting down the final seconds, like partiers at Times Square on New Year’s Eve.

The dream of rushing onto the floor, engulfed in purest joy. Then the ceremony, climbing the ladder, and one by one, they snip a piece of twine until the net comes down and they place it like a gold chain around the neck of the star player or the coach of the championship team.

We all have our favorites. Of the schools represented in the NCAA Tournament dating almost 20 years, my favorite is the 1985 Villanova team.

I recall very little about the last game. But I always will remember the affection the players had for each other and the special love they shared with an old man.

Jake Nevin was 75. He had a fringe of white hair and a gruff Cagney charm. Confined to a wheelchair, Villanova’s head trainer suffered from the crippling effects of Lou Gehrig’s disease.

Jake became the school’s trainer in 19-and-29. In tribute to his age and years of faithful service, Villanova adopted him as the school’s mascot. He was its patron saint, its good-luck charm.

Fans huddled around him. Fussed over him. Pecked his cheek. The players protected him with a mother lion’s pride.

The morning of the 1985 title game, Nevin received some tearful news. His friend, his closest friend, Alex Severance, a former Villanova coach, had died. The night before, Jake and Alex had spent two hours together in the hotel lobby, swapping stories, reminiscing.

At a time in his life when death seemed especially close to home, the trainer had lost another ally.

Players worried about him. How was he taking it? Would Jake be all right?

He was a tough man. A year before, when told he had contracted a disease that would gnarl his stubby fingers and push him into a chair, Nevin tried to make light of his fate.

Lou Gehrig’s disease? “That’s impossible,” he told his doctor. “I never played baseball in my life.”

The old man never had time to participate in sports. He chose to give of himself so others could. He gave for 50-plus years.

Because of his disease - “This damn stuff,” he called it the day we met - he no longer could unroll a spool of tape. Or walk. Or dress himself. Now, others had to care for him.

“It backfired on me,” Nevin said, acknowledging the bitter irony of his situation.

He looked down at his useless hands and thought about the upcoming game.

“I can’t do anything,” he said solemnly. “But at least I can be with ‘em.”

Villanova players dedicated that season to their trainer. Moments before the championship, they went through a ritual they had performed before each game.

The memory of that moment has outlived my recollections of the game and those of every tournament game played since.

As the players filed silently out of the locker room, each of them reached out and touched the old man. Some gently touched his hand. Others bent down and kissed the top of his head.

Jake watched the game with his boys, seated alongside the bench. What he witnessed brought tears for the second time that day.

“We did it! We did it, Jake!” players shouted after Villanova’s 66-64 victory over Georgetown, giving the Wildcats their first national championship.

A team that had lost 10 games that year had pulled off one of the biggest upsets in tournament history.

The players had done it for themselves. For each other. For the school. But there was no question to whom that night belonged.

“Just for you, Jake,” Coach Rollie Massimino whispered as he embraced the old man at center court.

“This one’s just for you.”