Wow. I don't even know where to begin. Excuse me if this post is all over the place, but that's where my mind has been the past few days. For me, basketball and nearly everything else has taken a back seat to the loss of Coach Tarkanian.
We all knew this was coming and we knew it would be soon. But that didn't make it any easier. I thought I was long prepared for Tarkanian's passing and I didn't think it would have a huge impact. I was wrong. Really wrong. Even though I didn't know the man well, it honestly felt like I just lost a best friend.
My mind went through a myriad of emotions. It went to different extremes and hit upon anger, sadness, gratitude and every point in between.
Though the anger has never left me, Tarkanian's passing opened up old wounds and I became enraged with the NCAA, with the backstabbing people at UNLV, and at the media that sensationalized and portrayed the man as something he wasn't.
But it wasn't about all those people. It was about a man who changed the lives of so many, especially those in a city with no real identity. It's rare to find a person who can touch so many people from different walks of life. Tarkanian could hobnob with a janitor as easily as the rich and famous. If you were willing to talk basketball, you could have Tark's ear. He was every man, but he was as unique as they come.
I was one of the thousands of people whose life was profoundly impacted by Coach Tarkanian. My life would be nothing like it is today if it weren't for Tarkanian. It may have been better, it may have been worse, but it is what it is now because his creation made it impossible for me to consider any life alternatives.
My first Rebel game was the final home game of the 1985-86 season when the Rebels beat Cal State Fullerton. I was left paralyzed by the electricity of the crowd and aerobatics on the court. It was a great hook, but not quite enough.
After graduating high school in 1986, my immediate future was going to take place a few hundred miles north at UNR. However, a family tragedy put those plans on hold. I made the decision to stay in town with my family and attend UNLV for one year before continuing my education at UNR. As a full time student at UNLV, we received free tickets on a first come, first serve basis. Suffice it to say, I made sure I was near the front of the line, spending the night in the parking lot at the Thomas and Mack to grab our tickets at 7 am. I had some of the best tickets in the house for the best show in town.
That 1986-87 team was so special. Not only were they the best team in the land, but I found myself even more drawn to the program as they were vilified nationally. With my family background in Las Vegas, I was able to easily identify with being hated by everyone that didn't love me. It was easy for me to subscribe to the "us vs the world" mantra held by the team. Loyalty ran thick with Tarkanian and I've always held that trait in the highest of regards. Even though I didn't know anybody on the team or sidelines personally, I felt like I was one of them. And it was easy for other fans to feel similarly because the Rebels truly were a team of the Las Vegas community. The Rebels embraced the community and received the same in return.
That team was amazing. They had such unity and strong sense of pride. I remember the final home game of that season. As the seniors were honored, tears rolled down my face. My mother, who I had sneaked down into the student section, didn't understand why. I explained to her that it wasn't going to get any better than this. Obviously - and thankfully - I was very wrong. As a 19 year old pimple-faced freshman, it was a tough year for me personally with the family tragedy and the Rebels helped by offering a healthy escape. They also helped me forge an identity. I felt as if I owed the program and I would show it through loyalty. Unfortunately, that season was stopped a little bit short as they dropped a tight one to eventual champion Indiana in the Final Four.
How strong was the grip? Here we are 29 seasons later and I have not missed a single home game in that time.
The first time I met Tarkanian was Saturday, February 12th of 1990. He was eating at a restaurant owned by a common family friend. The owner, knowing I was a huge fan, took me to his table, as Tark was eating with a friend, and introduced me. I was starstruck and Tark knew it. He invited me to sit with him a little while as he set his meal aside. He asked me how I was doing in school and what I thought about the team and so on. It was only a 10 minute conversation but it meant so much to me. As I left, I wished him luck in our next game, which was against Fresno State. Nobody felt like a bigger jinx when Greg Anthony crashed to the floor and shattered his jaw in that very game. But that event galvanized the Rebels and Greg's selflessness in immediately returning from such a painful injury made him a leader. The Rebels went on to thrash Duke in the National Championship game.
As the buzzer sounded and the Rebels were crowned champions, once again, I was in tears. While the town celebrated wildly, I was in mourning because the magical season was over. I was able to celebrate days later with the parade, but my immediate emotion upon scaling the tallest mountain was grief. Yeah, something was wrong with me. I've long since learned to enjoy the moments because none of them are guaranteed.
I'll fast forward to Tark's final game since I still haven't re-watched the 1991 Final Four. What merits mentioning, however, is the final home game of that undefeated regular season. Tark started all six seniors, drawing an immediate technical foul and spotting Cal State Irvine a 2-0 lead. I wasn't supposed to be at that game. My sister got married that day and I was part of the wedding party. Talk about a dilemma. The wedding video clearly shows me in nervous agony with a devil on one shoulder and angel on the other. In retrospect, it's quite comical. I looked for validation from ANYONE at the wedding, but with each mini-tantrum foot stomp, you could see the answers were "don't dare leave". I couldn't get the okay from anyone. I was screwed, my streak was going to be snapped. I finally made it over to my mother and with a gentle smile, she told me I needed to be at the game. I don't think I waited for her to fully answer. I arrived at the game as the fireworks exploded and headed to my front row seat in my tuxedo.
I was a mess the day Tarkanian retired. I was sitting in the front row wearing my silver and gray makeup and matching wig, acting the fool as all college students should. After the game, I was interviewed by Channel 13 and I vowed, on air, to never attend another Rebel game because of UNLV's mistreatment of Tark. I meant it at the time and through the subsequent months, but as the season approached, I was able to rationalize my return because Tark players were still on the team. I despised the new coach with a passion, but I felt a slave to the loyalty I promised years before.
After the final Tarkanian player (Reggie Manuel) graduated, it was the perfect time to let go. Without Tarkanian, the Rebels were quickly becoming a laughingstock with sub .500 records. It was no longer fun and detaching wouldn't be difficult. Or so I thought.
But I couldn't do it. That damn stubborn loyalty. It's simple to be a fan when things are going well, but only the toughest fans can withstand the hard times. I couldn't just quit. It wasn't fair to the kids who committed to the university, it wasn't fair to the program, and it wasn't fair to the things I believed in. Stick it out, through thick and thin. Be a man.
The years without Tark aren't the same and it's unfair to expect them to be. But remaining true to the loyalty displayed between Tarkanian and his teams has been rewarding. Through that, I've gained so many lifelong friends and cherished moments.
Along the way, I've had the privilege of getting to know hundreds of former players and many coaches. I've learned a lot about the game itself and the inner workings of college basketball. Those experiences did come with a price. No longer were the Rebels mystical to me, no longer were the players larger than life. I understood it as a program trying to stay above water with kids that face the same struggles as everyone else.
It also led me to starting Rebel-Net.com, which has opened up even more avenues. One of which was meeting up with Tarkanian again. A couple of years ago, I was invited to join on Tarkanian's radio show. I did nothing to deserve that, but I gratefully jumped at the opportunity. I rarely said anything on air. I was sitting next to an idol, a legend, and I wanted to absorb all he had to say. His mind was still as sharp as his wit and his colorful stories always put a smile on everyone's face. I'm not going to lie; all those years later and I was still in awe.
My decision to stay at UNLV remains the most pivotal decision of my lifetime. I would have never stayed at UNLV if it wasn't for Tark. I am who I am today, in large part, because of UNLV. My career and hobbies are directly tied to UNLV and Rebel basketball, respectively. My closest circle of friends are directly tied to Rebel basketball. My girl, and my two beautiful children, are directly tied to my career and UNLV.
Instead of focusing on what might have been had I not attended UNLV, I look at what I do have and I couldn't be happier.
I'm so thankful for Coach Tarkanian, but not only for winning at the highest levels in the most entertaining of ways. I'm thankful for his strength and resolve in fighting for things he believed in. I'm thankful for the opportunities he granted to kids who might not otherwise get one - many went on to make something out of their lives while a few tarnished his reputation. I'm thankful for the respect he showed to everyone. I'm thankful that this iconic figure remained humble and true. I'm thankful for getting to know him, even if it was only a little bit. My life is what it is, in large part, because Tarkanian created something so powerful.
So much about Tarkanian stood out to me. At first, the only thing that mattered was that he had five times more wins than losses. That's probably the most important thing to most people. But that was one of many facets of the frequently misunderstood Tarkanian. He was a strong patriarch who was bound by important values that have lost steam over the years. One thing that always impressed me was this son of Armenian immigrants was more American than most multi-generational Americans. He used the American Dream and climbed from rags to riches and fame while preserving who he is. He dared to challenge an imposing institution that nobody else dared to challenge. Oh, it's easy to challenge the NCAA NOW, but that's only because Tarkanian blazed that trail first. He stood up to hypocrisy without regard to his own reputation and safety. He and his family paid for it dearly, more than a 2.5 million dollar check could ever cover. There aren't many things more American than that and I will always admire him for his resolve.
Man, I'm going to miss him. More than I thought I ever would. He'll go down in history as a great coach, but to me he was a great man who coached basketball.
My deepest condolences to the Tarkanian family. Thank you for allowing Coach to be a part of our lives.
Rest in Peace, Tark. I'll never forget you. Neither will Las Vegas.
We all knew this was coming and we knew it would be soon. But that didn't make it any easier. I thought I was long prepared for Tarkanian's passing and I didn't think it would have a huge impact. I was wrong. Really wrong. Even though I didn't know the man well, it honestly felt like I just lost a best friend.
My mind went through a myriad of emotions. It went to different extremes and hit upon anger, sadness, gratitude and every point in between.
Though the anger has never left me, Tarkanian's passing opened up old wounds and I became enraged with the NCAA, with the backstabbing people at UNLV, and at the media that sensationalized and portrayed the man as something he wasn't.
But it wasn't about all those people. It was about a man who changed the lives of so many, especially those in a city with no real identity. It's rare to find a person who can touch so many people from different walks of life. Tarkanian could hobnob with a janitor as easily as the rich and famous. If you were willing to talk basketball, you could have Tark's ear. He was every man, but he was as unique as they come.
I was one of the thousands of people whose life was profoundly impacted by Coach Tarkanian. My life would be nothing like it is today if it weren't for Tarkanian. It may have been better, it may have been worse, but it is what it is now because his creation made it impossible for me to consider any life alternatives.
My first Rebel game was the final home game of the 1985-86 season when the Rebels beat Cal State Fullerton. I was left paralyzed by the electricity of the crowd and aerobatics on the court. It was a great hook, but not quite enough.
After graduating high school in 1986, my immediate future was going to take place a few hundred miles north at UNR. However, a family tragedy put those plans on hold. I made the decision to stay in town with my family and attend UNLV for one year before continuing my education at UNR. As a full time student at UNLV, we received free tickets on a first come, first serve basis. Suffice it to say, I made sure I was near the front of the line, spending the night in the parking lot at the Thomas and Mack to grab our tickets at 7 am. I had some of the best tickets in the house for the best show in town.
That 1986-87 team was so special. Not only were they the best team in the land, but I found myself even more drawn to the program as they were vilified nationally. With my family background in Las Vegas, I was able to easily identify with being hated by everyone that didn't love me. It was easy for me to subscribe to the "us vs the world" mantra held by the team. Loyalty ran thick with Tarkanian and I've always held that trait in the highest of regards. Even though I didn't know anybody on the team or sidelines personally, I felt like I was one of them. And it was easy for other fans to feel similarly because the Rebels truly were a team of the Las Vegas community. The Rebels embraced the community and received the same in return.
That team was amazing. They had such unity and strong sense of pride. I remember the final home game of that season. As the seniors were honored, tears rolled down my face. My mother, who I had sneaked down into the student section, didn't understand why. I explained to her that it wasn't going to get any better than this. Obviously - and thankfully - I was very wrong. As a 19 year old pimple-faced freshman, it was a tough year for me personally with the family tragedy and the Rebels helped by offering a healthy escape. They also helped me forge an identity. I felt as if I owed the program and I would show it through loyalty. Unfortunately, that season was stopped a little bit short as they dropped a tight one to eventual champion Indiana in the Final Four.
How strong was the grip? Here we are 29 seasons later and I have not missed a single home game in that time.
The first time I met Tarkanian was Saturday, February 12th of 1990. He was eating at a restaurant owned by a common family friend. The owner, knowing I was a huge fan, took me to his table, as Tark was eating with a friend, and introduced me. I was starstruck and Tark knew it. He invited me to sit with him a little while as he set his meal aside. He asked me how I was doing in school and what I thought about the team and so on. It was only a 10 minute conversation but it meant so much to me. As I left, I wished him luck in our next game, which was against Fresno State. Nobody felt like a bigger jinx when Greg Anthony crashed to the floor and shattered his jaw in that very game. But that event galvanized the Rebels and Greg's selflessness in immediately returning from such a painful injury made him a leader. The Rebels went on to thrash Duke in the National Championship game.
As the buzzer sounded and the Rebels were crowned champions, once again, I was in tears. While the town celebrated wildly, I was in mourning because the magical season was over. I was able to celebrate days later with the parade, but my immediate emotion upon scaling the tallest mountain was grief. Yeah, something was wrong with me. I've long since learned to enjoy the moments because none of them are guaranteed.
I'll fast forward to Tark's final game since I still haven't re-watched the 1991 Final Four. What merits mentioning, however, is the final home game of that undefeated regular season. Tark started all six seniors, drawing an immediate technical foul and spotting Cal State Irvine a 2-0 lead. I wasn't supposed to be at that game. My sister got married that day and I was part of the wedding party. Talk about a dilemma. The wedding video clearly shows me in nervous agony with a devil on one shoulder and angel on the other. In retrospect, it's quite comical. I looked for validation from ANYONE at the wedding, but with each mini-tantrum foot stomp, you could see the answers were "don't dare leave". I couldn't get the okay from anyone. I was screwed, my streak was going to be snapped. I finally made it over to my mother and with a gentle smile, she told me I needed to be at the game. I don't think I waited for her to fully answer. I arrived at the game as the fireworks exploded and headed to my front row seat in my tuxedo.
I was a mess the day Tarkanian retired. I was sitting in the front row wearing my silver and gray makeup and matching wig, acting the fool as all college students should. After the game, I was interviewed by Channel 13 and I vowed, on air, to never attend another Rebel game because of UNLV's mistreatment of Tark. I meant it at the time and through the subsequent months, but as the season approached, I was able to rationalize my return because Tark players were still on the team. I despised the new coach with a passion, but I felt a slave to the loyalty I promised years before.
After the final Tarkanian player (Reggie Manuel) graduated, it was the perfect time to let go. Without Tarkanian, the Rebels were quickly becoming a laughingstock with sub .500 records. It was no longer fun and detaching wouldn't be difficult. Or so I thought.
But I couldn't do it. That damn stubborn loyalty. It's simple to be a fan when things are going well, but only the toughest fans can withstand the hard times. I couldn't just quit. It wasn't fair to the kids who committed to the university, it wasn't fair to the program, and it wasn't fair to the things I believed in. Stick it out, through thick and thin. Be a man.
The years without Tark aren't the same and it's unfair to expect them to be. But remaining true to the loyalty displayed between Tarkanian and his teams has been rewarding. Through that, I've gained so many lifelong friends and cherished moments.
Along the way, I've had the privilege of getting to know hundreds of former players and many coaches. I've learned a lot about the game itself and the inner workings of college basketball. Those experiences did come with a price. No longer were the Rebels mystical to me, no longer were the players larger than life. I understood it as a program trying to stay above water with kids that face the same struggles as everyone else.
It also led me to starting Rebel-Net.com, which has opened up even more avenues. One of which was meeting up with Tarkanian again. A couple of years ago, I was invited to join on Tarkanian's radio show. I did nothing to deserve that, but I gratefully jumped at the opportunity. I rarely said anything on air. I was sitting next to an idol, a legend, and I wanted to absorb all he had to say. His mind was still as sharp as his wit and his colorful stories always put a smile on everyone's face. I'm not going to lie; all those years later and I was still in awe.
My decision to stay at UNLV remains the most pivotal decision of my lifetime. I would have never stayed at UNLV if it wasn't for Tark. I am who I am today, in large part, because of UNLV. My career and hobbies are directly tied to UNLV and Rebel basketball, respectively. My closest circle of friends are directly tied to Rebel basketball. My girl, and my two beautiful children, are directly tied to my career and UNLV.
Instead of focusing on what might have been had I not attended UNLV, I look at what I do have and I couldn't be happier.
I'm so thankful for Coach Tarkanian, but not only for winning at the highest levels in the most entertaining of ways. I'm thankful for his strength and resolve in fighting for things he believed in. I'm thankful for the opportunities he granted to kids who might not otherwise get one - many went on to make something out of their lives while a few tarnished his reputation. I'm thankful for the respect he showed to everyone. I'm thankful that this iconic figure remained humble and true. I'm thankful for getting to know him, even if it was only a little bit. My life is what it is, in large part, because Tarkanian created something so powerful.
So much about Tarkanian stood out to me. At first, the only thing that mattered was that he had five times more wins than losses. That's probably the most important thing to most people. But that was one of many facets of the frequently misunderstood Tarkanian. He was a strong patriarch who was bound by important values that have lost steam over the years. One thing that always impressed me was this son of Armenian immigrants was more American than most multi-generational Americans. He used the American Dream and climbed from rags to riches and fame while preserving who he is. He dared to challenge an imposing institution that nobody else dared to challenge. Oh, it's easy to challenge the NCAA NOW, but that's only because Tarkanian blazed that trail first. He stood up to hypocrisy without regard to his own reputation and safety. He and his family paid for it dearly, more than a 2.5 million dollar check could ever cover. There aren't many things more American than that and I will always admire him for his resolve.
Man, I'm going to miss him. More than I thought I ever would. He'll go down in history as a great coach, but to me he was a great man who coached basketball.
My deepest condolences to the Tarkanian family. Thank you for allowing Coach to be a part of our lives.
Rest in Peace, Tark. I'll never forget you. Neither will Las Vegas.
