Forty Minutes To Glory

Hall has a professorial air about him. Off the court he is courteous and soft-spoken, unassuming and gracious. On the job he is a different man. When the team is winning, he is at his most demanding, driving his players, barking at them. When they are losing or tightening up, he makes do with a nod or a clap of his hands. In late December, as the Wildcats get ready to play third-ranked Notre Dame, Kentucky has a 7-0 record. So Hall is tough. In practice, Phillips has trouble finding the holes in a zone defense and makes a bad pass that promptly draws a carping response from his coach. Disgusted, Phillips slams the ball down with such force that it flies 25 feet into the air. Hall runs onto the floor. "Here, let me do that," he yells, flinging the ball down in imitation of his player. "Hail, you made the mistake. What good does that do?"

"Yes, sir," says Phillips.

Wednesday, Dec. 28—We had too many distractions at practice today. There must have been 20 people in the stands and all kinds of TV and radio folks. I had so many interviews to do that Robey had to get the drills going. Practice is supposed to be closed, but there are people connected with the program—boosters and such—who ask to come. They were all there today. Pretty soon you're not practicing, you're performing.

The visitors at practice are worth examining. At Kentucky there is a cadre of loyal supporters. Thus if Hall needs a ride to the airport, Tracy Farmer, a Cynthiana banker, is at his office door. Tim Lindgren, general manager of the Hyatt Regency in Lexington, finds hotel rooms all over the country. Coal-mine owners loan Hall their private planes for recruiting trips. Cecil Dunn puts his law practice in cold storage during the basketball season and handles the coach's administrative chores. Andy Palmer, an attorney on Governor Julian Carroll's staff, has a special doorknob in the UK basketball office on which he hangs his coat late each afternoon. Dr. Roy Holsclaw, a Lexington dentist, passes out Wildcat Slush, a frozen fruit concoction, to the players after games. He has an auto license plate that reads GO NO. 1 UK. The team physician is Dr. V. A. Jackson, age 71, who moved his practice to Lexington from Clinton, Ky. to be closer to the Wildcats. His automobile horn is rigged so that it sounds the first few bars of the Kentucky fight song, and Kentucky fans know that a Wildcat victory is assured when Dr. Jackson jumps off the bench to hug a cheerleader.

Friday, Dec. 30—On the day before the Notre Dame game, 9,000 fans show up in Louisville's Freedom Hall to watch Kentucky practice. One zealous female fan sneaks up behind Robey and snips off a lock of his hair.

Saturday, Dec. 31—Just before his team takes the floor against Notre Dame, Hall addresses the players in the locker room. "I got to believe, the way you beat 'em last year [ Kentucky won 102-78] they're going to be super fired up," he says. "They're going to come at you physically, and they're going to try to intimidate you. But they're not as tough as you. I know this, they don't have toughness in their bellies the way you have. You can sustain yours, and I don't think they can. You're going out there stomach to stomach, chin to chin, and it's going to be hard but you're going to do it. Let's go."

If this sounds like Knute Rockne stuff, so be it. Hall believes in it, and his players respond to it. At some schools, if a coach gave such a speech the players would break out laughing. At Kentucky, they break out clapping.

The Wildcats beat Notre Dame 73-68. Afterward, Hall is effusive in his praise. He tells the players they can stay out until 12:15 that night, so "you can get a New Year's kiss and get back to the dorm and get your rest."

The previous day Notre Dame Coach Digger Phelps, a snappy dresser, had described for reporters the suit he would be wearing during the game. A silk and wool blend, said Digger. Hall wears an unfashionable polyester ensemble, with red stitching on the lapels and pockets, and a corny tie with the map of Kentucky embroidered on it. Walking out of Freedom Hall after the victory, he has the stride of a man who thinks himself as natty as Beau Brummell. His Wildcats are closing out 1977 as the top-ranked team in the country, and it feels good.

Kentucky opens its SEC schedule on Jan. 2 with a 72-59 victory over Vanderbilt in Rupp Arena, and five days later wins 86-67 at Florida, whose arena, nicknamed Alligator Alley, is the toughest stop in the conference. Hall is ecstatic. "Fellows, that was an awfully good win," he tells his players. "You can be proud of that one. Get yourself together. Work together. Hang together. Feel good together."