Big Five Basketball

And so with his small hand cupped in his father’s, the young boy walked around the white-bricked perimeter of the arena with his head pointed skyward and his mouth open. Around each walkway, they studied the glass casings that held basketball memorabilia from each of the Big Five schools--a loosely stitched Kenny Durrett jersey and a grainy black-and-white photograph of Temple’s 1969 NIT Championship team included. Afterward, they went up a steep, stony corridor leading to section 213. What lay before them at the end of the corridor made the past spill over into the present.

Where the young boy saw huge iron-archings, banners of Ivy League teams, and a ceiling the blue of an infant’s blanket, the father saw cray-paper streamers being thrown at the first basket made, clever rollouts unfurled by fraternity students at each end, and the Temple Owl and the St. Joe’s Hawk tearing each other’s feathers off during a time-out. From the last seat in the eastern corner of the arena, the boy gazed upon a plain-looking court of red and blue and an empty students’ section behind each basket, while the father saw a sea of Villanova students rushing the court after the Wildcats beat Notre Dame. The father stared at the court for a minute, closed his eyes, and then sat on one of the wooden benches.

"What were you just staring at?" said the young boy to his dad.

"Nothing, son," said the father. Just some great college basketball games.

Built in 1926, the Palestra first opened its doors in 1927. Located in the shadow of Franklin Field on the campus of the University of Pennsylvania, the Palestra was named by Dr. William Bates (a Greek professor) who named it so because in ancient Greece, a Palestra was a rectangular enclosure where young men would compete. In its glory days as the home of Big Five basketball from 1955 to 1986, this 8,700 seat arena witnessed some of the best college basketball games in the country. Today, this living, breathing memorial at 33rd and Walnut Street is the home court of the Penn Quakers.

Although it is locally quipped the "Big House," there are certainly bigger arenas in the area. The Civic Center, formerly Convention Hall, is a bigger arena located only a block away. However, neither the Civic Center nor any other arena has the tradition, history, or pageantry of the Palestra. Through generations, the Palestra has been a Philadelphia landmark that has stood as the battlefield palace of Big Five basketball. What makes it special, as Big Five Hall of Fame writer Bob Vetrone notes, are all the stories, sidebars, and folk tales that go along with the competitive nature of the Big Five.

"People that haven’t been there just don’t know," said Vetrone, the 'Godfather of the Big Five' as some have deigned him. "I look back on it, and what made it special wasn’t just the games, it was the individuals, the players, coaches, and fans."

"Everything’s so old-looking. What made it all so special, Dad?" said the son.

"The tradition and the memories, son," said the father. "Back when I was young, I used to take your mom here every Saturday night that the Big Five had a doubleheader. We called them twin bills back then. When we go home, even your mother will tell you that those were some great times."

Many of the traditions of the Palestra still live on today. For example, the lettering of the two competing schools designated on the scoreboards of the Palestra still have to be changed by someone climbing a ladder and replacing them by hand. For Big Five double headers, it isn’t to be questioned that the fans of any Big Five school will root for another Big Five team over an out-of-area team. The Big Five just has that kind of loyalty to each other.

However, some traditions only exist in the memories of aged Big Five fans. There was a mascot named Yo-Yo who would dance on top of the Phillies dugout at the 7th inning stretch before the Phanatic ever did. He lived on top of a bakery shop in South Philadelphia. When he died, the Phillies paid for his funeral. At the Palestra, Yo-Yo would take shots at halftime and entertain the crowd. After the game, it would not be uncommon to see him at Cavanaugh’s, a bar at 32nd and Market, where coaches and press personnel would buy him a cigar or a hamburger.

There was also the tradition of scheduling Big Five weekly luncheons, where the five coaches would all get together under informal circumstances. The jabs that each took at the other were clever, witty, and always had a rebuttal. At one luncheon, La Salle’s Paul Westhead imitated Penn’s Chuck Daly by combing his hair incessantly, while Temple’s Don Casey parodied Westhead by quoting Shakespeare.

However, the best traditions of the Big Five lay within the walls of the Palestra. One of the most recognizable and honored traditions was the use of wide rollout signs, concocted by fraternity students to poke fun at the opposing team. "It got a little obscene, but there used to be some really funny ones," said Associated Press correspondent Jack Scheuer. When Georgetown came to play Villanova, Wildcat fans jabbed at the Hoya’s center Patrick Ewing by unfurling a sign that read: "Patrick, can you read this?"

However, the most distinct and impressive traditions of Big Five games at the Palestra had to do with the throwing of paper streamers. Up until the early 80’s, at the first made basket, everyone in the crowd would throw paper streamers onto the court. At one La Salle / St. Joe’s game, after it became a technical foul to throw the streamers, the La Salle player (at the coaches request) shooting the free throws squared up to the line, accepted the ball from the referee, took a giant step toward the basket, then shot the free throw making the shot void. After he did the same on the second, the crowd romped and stomped in excitement.

"Walking into the Palestra is like walking into a Major League ballpark for the first time," said Scheuer, who used to read Bob Vetrone’s stories back to the Philadelphia Bulletin for $2.50 a night back in 1960. "It’s not like other arenas. Here, the crowd is right out there, right on the floor." In a place where the acoustic design is such that the shudders of a bass drum can be felt up the spine, and where 800 fans can sound like 8,000, it makes for the most unpredictable and exciting college basketball in the country.

"There’s something typical about the Big Five and the Palestra," said Dan Baker, a 21-year veteran of broadcasting and Executive Secretary of the Big Five from 1981 to 1996, "that on any given time, no matter how good one team may be, the other team might upset them."

The Big Five has its beginnings back in the 1940’s. At this time, Penn and Villanova were playing at the Palestra, while St. Joe’s, La Salle and Temple were playing at Convention Hall. After the five universities saw how a round-robin city series would benefit both themselves and the community, the universities agreed to make the deal. When the announcement was made in February of 1954, the Big Five was born.

Since then, every Big Five team can boast that they have been to the Final Four. Therefore, the potential for close, competitive games becomes a reality whenever a Big Five team takes the floor of the Palestra. Last year, Penn came within five points of beating eighth-ranked Kansas, after head coach Roy Williams agreed to play Penn because two of Kansas’ veteran radio announcers, Bob Davis and Max Falkenstien, had never been to the Palestra. In other action, after Villanova narrowly edged out Arkansas in a raucous Palestra classic, Razorbacks coach Eddie Sutton came into the interview room, sat down, and said: "I just told our kids that this is the way basketball should be, in this kind of atmosphere." In an interview given after losing to La Salle, De Paul’s head coach vowed that they would never come back to the Palestra.

"Why wouldn’t he want to come back here after all the nice things you said about this place?" said the son. "I don’t know. I guess he doesn’t like losing," said the father. "But if you’re really interested about what made this place jump on a Saturday night, let me tell you about some of the city series games I saw here."

There is nothing like it when two Big Five teams decide to come to 33rd and Walnut, each bringing 4,000 fans who have a blood-loyalty to their team, ready to settle a college basketball game Big Five style. The essence of Big Five basketball is found in this setting. If La Salle played St. Joe’s at the Palestra, cutting the arena at half court, one half would be crimson and gray, the other would be blue and gold. One side chanting, "Here we go Explorers, here we go....," the other side chanting, "The Hawk will never die...". Typically, games of this nature are settled either in OT or on a last second shot at the final echo of the Palestra’s horn.

While the Hawks and Explorers have had some fantastic battles over the years, the Palestra was also home to other intense Big Five matchups. In 1966, St. Joseph’s reserve guard Steve Donches, who subbed in when Billy Oakes fouled out near the end of the game, hit a 29-footer to beat Villanova 71-69. After the game, Donches walked to the Philadelphia Bulletin building at 30th and Market to see the newly developed photographs that came from a machine gun camera taking pictures that afternoon.

In an almost explosive Villanova / St. Joe’s matchup, security got word of a bomb in the building. As security cleared everyone away, Channel 6 TV man Les Keiter stayed with Toby DeLuca, his statistics man, at the top of the Palestra and broadcast what was going on. "We’re not leaving here," said Keiter over the air. "We’re going to be here broadcasting everything that’s going on." For his bravery, Keiter was branded a hero because he looked down the barrel of a bomb threat and kept on talking. Later, however, Keiter admitted that Channel 6 gave him a call during the bomb scare and told him not to leave. He continued broadcasting for a few more years in the Big Five and then retired to Hawaii where no one would even think of bombing a basketball arena.

"The bomb still isn’t in here, is it?," asked the son as he began clenching his seat.

"No son, they eventually learned that there was no bomb after all," said the father. "But there have been some strange things that have happened here over the years."

In 1969, Penn beat Villanova, 32-30 as Quaker Steve Bilsky nailed one in the final second in 1969. On the other extreme, it took 3 OT’s in 1958 to see La Salle beat Villanova, 111-105, in the highest scoring game in Big Five history. More recently, however, when unranked Penn upset sixth-ranked Temple earlier last year, it ended a winning streak by the Owls over the Quakers that stood since 1983. Also, in 1958, Temple beat St. Joe’s in front of sardine-packed crowd of 9,648.

After explaining some of the games, the father took the son down to the court where the players came out from the locker room. "Everyone will tell you that Lionel Simmons was the best Big Five player ever," said the father. "But if you ask me, Guy Rodgers was the best player ever to dribble a basketball on this court."

When a poll was taken years ago to select a Big Five Dream Team, La Salle’s Lionel Simmons, the Big Five’s all-time leading scorer with 3,217 points, garnered the most votes. However, in the minds of some (including the father’s), Temple’s Guy Rodgers was the best player ever in the Big Five.

"We’re talking about a guy who played 40 years ago," said Scheuer. "Nobody ever played or ran the fast break like Guy Rodgers."

"Everybody wanted to be the next Guy Rodgers but there has not been the next Guy Rodgers," said Vetrone, whose fascination with Big Five and college basketball extends back to 1936 when he and his uncle couldn’t get into a Temple / Stanford New Years’ Eve game at Convention Hall because 11,000 people were inside while 3,000 waited outside. "If there had been widespread TV then as there is now, people would still be talking about him."

Others making the list included Villanova’s Harold Porter (who had some classic battles with Ken Durrett), Penn’s Corky Calhoun, and La Salle’s Larry Cannon, who when asked at a high school Q-and-A session who the best player he ever saw was, replied: "I practice in front of a mirror with him everyday."

"Hey dad, I’m going to get some find some streamers. There’s got to be some lying around here somwehere," said the son, popping off of the wooden bench.

"You can try to find some later," said the father. "But even if you did find streamers, we’re not allowed to throw them on the court anymore."

The boy froze for a moment. Then, pointing his face as though he was talking to his shirt, said in a hushed and tender tone, "That’s too bad".

As former Executive Secretary Dan Baker pointed out, "Some other teams tried to emulate it in a more destructive way by throwing other objects on the floor." Against Villanova, even hot dogs were thrown from the stands at Villanova guards Frank Gillen and Chris Ford.

"It took away a Philadelphia tradition," said La Salle head coach Speedy Morris, who also coached his high school team (Roman Catholic) in many Philadelphia Catholic League Championships at the Palestra. "It was as traditional as a Philly cheese steak, soft pretzels, or Tastykakes."

However, the removal of streamers was symptomatic of the changes to the Big Five that happened after Villanova won the National Championship in 1985. In 1986, the presidents of the Big Five schools agreed to a contract through 1995 that included each school playing each other in a limited round-robin style. However, in 1991, Villanova said that they couldn’t play all their city series games that were included in the contract. Therefore, under the watch of then Executive Secretary Dan Baker, a compromise was reached whereby reducing the Big Five schedule to 5 games.

"That was very disappointing," said Baker. "Schools felt that their interests were not being served by playing all the city series games at the Palestra and many teams echoed Villanova’s sentiments. I tried my diplomatic best to keep the Big Five going in the face of the reluctance of Villanova to play at the Palestra and play all their city series games."

With the reluctance of Villanova also came more changes. Big Five teams stopped playing their regular season games at the Palestra in 1986. Loyalty to conferences, such as the A-10 and the Big East, began to take precedence over Big Five games. Finally, local high school talent began to look beyond the city limits to play basketball.

"I do miss it, but life goes on," said Morris. "With the conference affiliations and everyone having their own arenas, it’s taken away from that. But the old guys that have always been a part of it, we all miss it."

However, with the re-introduction of the Big Five last year, a new breed of players, coaches, and fans have a chance to find out what so many old-timers already know: That there is still something mystical about the Palestra; a reverence that swaddles the entire arena. When on a bright afternoon game, the sunlight highlights the dust in the air, the Palestra becomes almost beatific, and the championship banners that hang from the iron rafters look more like religious icons than collegiate flags. Perhaps this is why from 1939 until 1991, the Palestra held 20 NCAA Tournaments.

The spirit of the Big 5 is alive and well in Philadelphia today. It is one of the few things that grandfathers can tell stories about that will make their grandchildren listen. About how St. Joe’s coach Jack Ramsay would throw his coat to the crowd after a victory. Or how pigeons would roost on the iron-archings high above the court. Or how cheerleaders used to cry when their team lost. Or when Bob Vetrone let one slip when broadcasting a Villanova / Georgetown game, by saying "This is un-bleeping believable." Or the way dueling bands would play from high atop the Palestra in each corner. Or how John Mc Adams voice would still resonate minutes after announcing the starting line-ups.

As the father and son began to exit the arena through the corridor outside section 213, the father turned and looked into the empty, sullen interior of the Palestra. He saw band members decked out in ironed shirts, as Matt Guokas inbounds the ball to Guy Rodgers, who leads a fast break before he passes it to Ed Pinckney, who sees Howard Porter eyeing a jumpshot from the perimeter as Corky Calhoun posts up low in the box. The ball is fed underneath to Eddie Jones, who selflessly dishes it to Michael Brooks for a two-handed dunk, as 8,000 streamers cascade onto the floor. That’s Big 5 basketball at the Palestra, and the spirit lives on.