Jud Heathcote took a moribund basketball program and for a tired old warhorse, who had been an assistant coach at WSU to Marv Harshman ever since the mid 19th Century, really brought the right ideas.
Partly, it was acting. He knew how to act. He knew atmosphere. Cheerleaders were soooo out of favor in those days; he wanted cheerleaders, had a naming contest among the students, "Sugar Bears" won, got Lance Boyd to put together the band, and put the students right down on the floor, the "Zoo." But, he got students involved, right off the bat. Elton John had a popular song about "sugar bears" and Jud just got people interested.
There was no Mascot; no one had thought of it before. The last UM mascot had been a real bear, and real bears were out of favor in those days. Jud decided there should be a mascot, but there was no money for a costume. The Forest Service had a big bear outfit, Smokey the Bear, but the hat was glued to the head. He got Earl's Distributing to loan their Hamm's Bear outfit -- actually, they had three of them -- and they were quite small. So, Jud asked to borrow all three and found little people to wear them around the Field House. They didn't know what to do; none of them had SEEN a "mascot" in action before, so those poor little Hamm's Bears kind of wandered around, waiving at people. Jud had to teach them how to be "mascots." A sixty year old basketball coach with a face like a bulldog trying to teach three little cartoon Bears how to have "personality."
Jud was a unique cross between PT Barnum and John Wooden. At at time when athletics was struggling in general, and football was mired in financial problems and a horrible facility, Jud was finally packing the Field House. Too, there was a terrific game voice, Phil Hess, and his successor, Fat Dad.
Once that momentum was going, it became part of student and fan routines. That was important. It didn't matter so much after Jud retired; going to the basketball game is what you did.
Then, with money flowing in, the Brain Trust thought a major renovation was the ticket to future growth.
It wasn't. I like the stadium seating of the remodeled Field House, but there was something about the old bleachers that made it feel like "a basketball game." The architects did a great job with "line of sight" seats, but the aisles are narrow and cramped, and it no longer feels like a Field House, it feels like a convertible venue for rock concerts that can also be a basketball court which is exactly what it is.
Too, the two year construction lag, when games were held at Sentinel, lost the UM students, and lost the community as well. Bringing UM Football back to campus was a big plus to its growth; taking UM Basketball off campus for two year really killed the program. It came back to a fine facility, but without the fans. They had just moved on to other things and didn't get BB back into their schedules.
Losing continuity in a program is a serious matter. You don't get a Jud Heathcote, Ringmaster, every season to build things back up; we can see that at the other universities. It's an uphill battle. It was for football. But once something "clicks" -- a Don Read, a Jud Heathcote, the right physical location -- it can click. And once there, it can sustain itself for a long time; self-sustaining so to speak. But once that continuity is lost -- coaches, facilities -- it is amazing how that impacts fans and attendance.
Wayne Tinkle is a terrific coach. The kids love him. But, he's not as personable in a public way as Heathcote -- no one was -- and not as much the all-around PR officer that Jud was. God, Jud could be funny. He always had something to say, and a unique way of saying it. He got people coming to the games; whether it was his signature yell, "Bennnnnnnie!" or taking off his sport coat and jumping on it; he brought people in. It was the Sugar Bears, the Band, the funny little awkward bears wandering around -- things that had not been a part of the games before. And winning. That "fast break" that was so exciting. He built the program and people loved it long after he was gone. But, it was really that construction period that lost that momentum.
It is something that concerns me about Engstrom's lack of experience and judgment: he doesn't appear to have any comprehension of how sudden and unpleasant changes can affect a program. He had the good fortune over the last year of having a $3.3 million profit from football, to apply to the $3.5 million loss he inflicted on the University by losing students and parents because of his actions over the past year. That's a $6.8 million difference of opinion on how to provide "leadership."
Time will tell if Engstrom lost the continuity in the football program. The point is, that consideration -- continuity -- is an extremely important one, people, places. UM Basketball lost it, and could never get it back.
