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Joe Jares
February 27, 1967
Esteemed for two centuries in the academic community, Princeton has become a power in basketball, not only in its own league but nationwide. Credit an ex-pro called Butch who smokes too many cigars
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February 27, 1967

Tiger In The House Of Ivy

Esteemed for two centuries in the academic community, Princeton has become a power in basketball, not only in its own league but nationwide. Credit an ex-pro called Butch who smokes too many cigars

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Christopher Thomforde, Princeton '69, was oblivious to the dark, cold Connecticut countryside whizzing by outside the windows of the chartered bus. Swaddled in topcoat and orange-and-black-striped Princeton Tiger scarf, he was engrossed in a textbook on politics. The overhead light emphasized the paleness of his blond hair, which is about 6'9" above the soles of his tender feet. Across the aisle Gary Walters, '67, wearing horn-rimmed glasses and an undone bow tie, slept occasionally and occasionally listened to Coach Butch van Breda Kolff tell short (or maybe tall) stories, like the one about his career as lacrosse coach at Lafayette. ("My first year we were 0-9. So the guy asked me, 'How will you do next year?' 'Can't do any worse,' I told him. So what does the guy do? He schedules 10 games. And we were 0-10!") Thomforde laughed and went back to his studying. Walters, clutching a book on psychology, fell into a doze again. Princeton's tired basketball team was on its way home after beating Yale by only one point at New Haven, squeezing past Brown by three at Providence and—in a weekend that saw five of the nation's top 10 teams lose—holding its customary place at the head of the Ivy League.

The Tigers, who have won five of the last seven Ivy basketball championships, should clinch another this week. They face Columbia, Cornell and Penn—all at home—and they have already beaten Columbia and Penn on the road. Their defeat at Cornell last Saturday—an upset—was only the second in 22 games. The other, to Louisville in the finals of the Quaker City Tournament, came when Captain Ed Hummer, their best defensive player, was out with the flu. They went on from there to beat North Carolina by 10 at Chapel Hill and to set a league Scoring record in swamping Dartmouth by a margin of 74 points. They would be powerful in any league. Each of the starters—Thomforde, Hummer, Walters, John Haarlow and Joe Heiser—would be a publicized hotshot on a less well-balanced team. As it is, each is scoring in double figures, though none ranks in the NCAA's top 20 in any category. They are current Ivy princes in a dynasty being fashioned by van Breda Kolff—unusual at a university long distinguished for academic excellence, and especially remarkable at a time when superior athletes generally seek collegiate showcases for their talents in order to enhance their value as future professionals.

Thomforde, a sophomore who wants to be a Lutheran minister, beat out two-year starter Robinson Osborn Brown, '67, for the job at center. He does not have much spring, but at his size he does not need much, and he can run up and down the court for a week without getting winded. Chris is so brimming with enthusiasm that he even applauds well-executed layups in pregame drills, and if somebody gave him a megaphone he would direct the sis-boom-bahs during the time-outs. This ardor goes beyond the court, too. To help undergraduates earn money, Princeton has a long list of miniature businesses—a student pizza agency, a student beer-mug agency, a student wall-banner agency and even an agency that sells shorty nighties (with Tiger emblems) to the coeds passing through. Thomforde is a mainstay of the student refreshment agency that peddles goodies at school sports events. This term he is a manager, but as a freshman he walked through the stands at football and soccer games hawking hot dogs, not too embarrassed that he was a conspicuous 6'8�" and his white coat was several sizes too small.

Chris considers Walters "the best I've ever played with." Walters suffered a pulled thigh muscle on the first day of practice after January examinations, and the injury slowed down his lateral movement considerably. It is one of the reasons the Tigers have not won by any 74-, 49- or 44-point margins in the last few weeks. Walters is 5'10"—smaller than Thomforde was in the eighth grade—and he handles the important ball-handling chores for Princeton. Before he was hurt he had a way of suddenly shifting into high gear and zooming past anybody in his way. "Until we got into the Ivy League season, we were playing hard every game," said Robby Brown. "The main thing is Gary. When Gary can't run, the whole tenor of the game changes."

There are other reasons for the narrower victories recently. First, a team on a long winning streak usually starts to play too carefully. Earlier in the season Walters and Heiser would pester opposing backcourt men to distraction and steal the ball a lot. Lately, opposing teams have had their centers bring the ball up, so that if Princeton wants to press, it has to use Thomforde, who still has much to learn about defense.

For all its close calls and stampedes, the team's most notable effort came against North Carolina, after a miserable all-night excursion from New Jersey. The day before the game, at 4 p.m., the flight out of Newark Airport was canceled, and the squad had to wait around for a 7:45 p.m. train. It was so crowded that most of the players had no seats and perched on their suitcases in the aisle all the way to Washington, D.C. They had nothing to eat until a sandwich vendor came aboard at 4 a.m. When they arrived in Raleigh at about 6:30 a.m. the day of the game they jumped into taxis, only to meet more trouble and delays. One cab first traveled to Durham, home of Duke University, instead of Chapel Hill, causing another hour's loss of sleep. A second cab was operated by a sharpie who stopped in the middle of a tobacco field somewhere and demanded an exorbitant fee to drive the rest of the way to the motel. Van Breda Kolff, a husky ex-marine with a voice that has been roughened and deepened by too many cigars, got the price back down to normal when the cab arrived. The team slept all the rest of the day.

Perhaps, as North Carolina Coach Dean Smith suggested later, all their troubles helped the Tigers psychologically, if not physically. They beat the Tar Heels, No. 2 in the UPI poll at that time, 91-81. " Princeton can do well in the NCAA," Smith added.

"When we went East I said Princeton was one of the most underrated teams in the country," says Louisville Assistant Coach John Dromo. "This has since been proved, because now they are one of the best and stand as good a chance in the NCAA as anybody. I look for Princeton to be one of the powers in the East for the next several years."

Until last week all such talk of playing in the national collegiate championships was small comfort to the Tigers. Even if Princeton won the Ivy League title, as seemed likely, they would not be able to participate because of the controversial 1.6 rule. In essence, this rule states that a college may not offer an athletic scholarship to a prospective student whose predicted grade average is below 1.6 on a 4.0 scale (4.0 would be straight A's, 2.0 straight C's), and that a student-athlete becomes ineligible if his average falls below 1.6. Princeton was willing to comply with the rule, but two other Ivy League schools had refused, and the rest of the league decided to stand with the stubborn two. But last week the Ivies and the NCAA arrived at an "interim agreement" to allow winter and spring Ivy champs to compete for national titles. For Butch van Breda Kolff, it would mean more practices to run and more people pestering him for tickets. "But if my team wants to go," he said, "I want to go."

Van Breda Kolff's real given names are Willem Hendrik, but Butch seemed to fit him much better one recent afternoon when he was working in what is laughingly called his office. It is a large, uncarpeted room in a corner of Princeton's 19-year-old gym, probably once used as a storeroom. Butch sat at his desk in a red sweat shirt, and as he talked on the telephone his gravelly voice carried out the door and down an obscure, narrow stairway leading to the squash courts. There is no secretary and there are no plaques or photographs on the walls—just a little-used chalk board ("The only time I use chalk is to throw it," he says). The only touch of decoration is a large painting of a side-whiskered gentleman, Henry Marquand, onetime president of the Metropolitan Museum of Art. Butch swears that the hazy white rectangle behind Marquand's right shoulder is a basketball backboard.

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