Grief in March: What It Feels Like to Be Bottom of NCAA Tournament Greatness

He’s the one everyone sees and few remember, an almost invisible piece of history standing six feet tall.

Newspaper photos from the next day showed his attempt to create a different fate. His arms outstretched. Hands held up as the ball landed nearly a foot from the UCLA point guard’s fingertips.

The same goes for the footage played so many times over the years during the NCAA tournament. Move his feet across to compete. Shoot those arms up. Stock market stops a miracle 4.8 seconds in the making.

The ending never changes.

Tyus Edney’s shot always goes in. Derek Grimm’s regrets never go away.

If only the Missouri quarterback had jumped. If he moved his hands an inch towards the ball. If only he’d missed cutting his fingernails this week.

“I thought I gave him a pretty hard shot,” Grimm recently said over the phone about the 1995 play that changed so many lives, “but obviously not hard enough.”

Edney achieved his miracle on his way to a national championship.

Grimm never returned to the NCAA Tournament in his final two collegiate seasons, becoming part of a faded photo in someone else’s scrapbook.

Every year around this time, the 48-year-old returns to his awkward place in college basketball history.

He’s sitting in a bar watching the NCAA tournament when it’s always about his playing time.

“Remember when Tyus played Edney?” Grimm will ask someone.

“Yes, yes,” came the reply.

“Well, he shot over me.”

Of course they don’t remember it. Attention is always drawn to the March Miracle Workers.

Jaws dropped at Christian Laettner’s shot that lifted Duke in 1992. Fear filled the air after Lorenzo won Charles’ dunk for North Carolina State in 1983. Disbelief reigned over Edney’s coast-to-coast fading layup.

Anyone remember Deron Feldhaus of Kentucky raising an arm to attack Laettner? That Houston’s Hakeem Olajuwon failed to box Charles? That Grimm’s efforts weren’t enough against Edney?

It’s the other side of the games that makes this month the most memorable in esports: March’s heartbreak. Every year it lingers on every field and infiltrates almost every locker room. 67 of the 68 NCAA tournament teams are home losers.

Even UCLA’s illustrious history at this event is filled with sadness. Bruins fans who enjoy the image of Adam Morrison weeping after Gonzaga’s epic collapse in 2006 cringe at the desperation of their own heroes.

Two years ago, David Singleton watched helplessly as Jalen Sugg’s layup somehow fell over his outstretched arms into the basket to lead Gonzaga to victory. Kiki Vandeweghe cried in 1980 after missing a late layup against Louisville. Bill Walton left the court in disgust after squandering a seven-point lead in a 1974 double overtime loss against North Carolina State.

Grimm stood wide-eyed in disbelief in the pavilion of Boise State University as the Bruins Edney swarmed the multicolored square in ecstasy. Reserve forward Bob Myers—the future general manager of the Golden State Warriors—was the first teammate to reach Edney and lift him triumphantly into the air.

Across the field, Simeon and Sammy Haley, the six-foot-tall Missouri twins, fell to their knees in pain in front of the bench. Tears streamed into the locker room. No one could really process any of it.

“I remember thinking, whoa, what just happened?” Grimm said he saw Edney’s unlikely shot exceed all expectations. “All I know is it went in and literally half a second later, wow, it went in and that was it. It is over.”

The worst day of his basketball career started ominously.

Grimm awoke on the morning of March 19, 1995 with flu-like symptoms. A temperature of more than 100 degrees. Severe dehydration.

There was great doubt whether he would play.

“I remember not going to the shoot and feeling awful,” said Grimm, “not a big fan of needles, and they said, ‘Well, we’ll put you on an IV,’ and I said, ‘If you think that it might work.’ “

Rest and IV fluids coupled with determination were enough to get him in the arena for the tip.

“I knew right away that I couldn’t miss this match,” he said. “At least I had to try.”

Missouri didn’t stand a chance without the dynamic power forward, who could sink three-pointers a stretch of four before the term was invented. Grimm was his team’s third-leading scorer and rebounder, also scoring an astonishing 47.5% of his three-pointers.

The Tigers rebounded as No. 8 in the NCAA Tournament after losing five of their last six games. A 65-60 win over Indiana in the first round allowed Grimm to witness another memorable moment in March, when he heard part of Bobby Knight’s tirade at a tournament official who said the erratic Hoosiers trainer wouldn’t turn on to attend the press after the match. conference.

Taking on the top-seeded Bruins two days later in the second round did not intimidate the Tigers. On the eve of the game, Grimm spoke seven words that couldn’t have been more prophetic.

“We just need to finish their break,” he said.

In a game of huge runs, Missouri built a nine-point cushion early in the second half before the Bruins pulled in 15 straight runs. Grimm played well and shrugged off his symptoms. His three-pointer with 3:49 left gave the Tigers a 72-69 lead.

The tour moved on to table tennis. With Missouri trailing by one point and the clock ticking back less than 10 seconds, guard Kendrick Moore drove to the right side of the field and spun near the free throw line. A jump pass found teammate Julian Winfield in the paint for a hard-fought layup that gave the Tigers a 74-73 lead.

Was it enough? When UCLA called a timeout and Missouri players flocked to the field to celebrate, Grimm glanced at his watch. All that stood between his team and the biggest tournament in school history was that 4.8 seconds.

During the Bruins’ battle, coach Jim Harrick ordered Edney to walk the field and take the final shot. In the Tigers’ line of scrimmage, Coach Norm Stewart’s plan was to upset the Jitterbug point guard. Slow it down, make it change direction, waste a precious second or two. don’t get dirty

What happened next could please only one coach and break countless hearts.

Edney, curled up in the backcourt, caused a run when he took Cameron Dollar’s inside pass. Loosely defended by the Tigers’ Jason Sutherland, Edney shook his counterpart as he crossed half the field with a behind-the-back dribble. He went to the other side of the field and raced to the basket, a one-of-five quick breakaway.

Grimm stepped forward to challenge Edney about three feet from the basket, the last line of defense.

“Very surprised he’s come this far,” said Grimm. “I remember something went through my mind – don’t foul, give him a hard time.”

Twenty-eight years later, Edney said it was by-the-book defense: hands up, wall up, make it hard to score.

“Honestly, I think he did what he had to do,” said Edney. “He has to be there to make it difficult and play a flawless game.”

Given those long arms, Edney had to twist his body around Grimm to get a shot over his fingertips. The ball landed high above the backboard and brushed the front of the rim before falling through the net as the buzzer sounded.

Buoyed by his breakaway, UCLA won the next four games en route to the championship, averaging 12 points. Meanwhile, Grimm returned to campus with incurable grief.

“I remember being emotional after that game and being a little goofy at school for the next few weeks,” he said, “and just, wow, that’s crazy.”

The shot propelled Edney to something of a celebrity after his brief NBA career. Just before he stepped into a Beverly Hills clothing store, he was once recognized after a small talk by heavyweight boxing legend Mike Tyson.

“He said, ‘I know who you are, man,'” Edney said, recalling the exchange.

Grimm faded into relative anonymity, the Tigers entering the National Invitation Tournament in his junior year before finishing with a record loss in his final collegiate season. He never imagined that the play Edney was involved in would be his last on college basketball’s biggest stage.

“I just took it for granted because I was young and naive,” Grimm said, “that we’d probably have two more chances at the tournament.”

After not being drafted, Grimm played in nine games for the Sacramento Kings during the 1997–98 season before embarking on a pro career with the Continental Basketball Assn. and abroad.

“Anyone who pays me,” says Grimm, who set up the teams in the Philippines, Turkey, Kosovo and Japan, among others. “I went to play for a while.”

Returning to his hometown of Morton, Illinois, Grimm now owns some commercial and residential real estate and operates a screen printing and embroidery business with his wife, Jenna Grimm’s Inc.

Other than Edney’s repeated shot during the NCAA tournament, Grimm hasn’t gone back to take another look. It really makes no sense.

“There’s not much you can do about it,” he said with a chuckle.

Grimm’s only consolation is that the Bruins won the national championship, meaning he was indirectly involved in something special.

“It’s great to be a part of something so iconic,” he said, “even if you’re on the losing side.”

Grimm and Edney never set foot on the same field again, despite overlapping professional careers – Edney spent two seasons with the Kings before Grimm’s arrival and also spent many years playing abroad. Edney is now the assistant to San Diego coach Steve Lavin, who was part of Harrick’s staff who designed the most popular play in UCLA history.

Edney asked a reporter this month how Grimm felt about the play and was told that despite the deep-seated fear, he was a good player.

“Okay,” said Edney. “So when I meet him, can we laugh and have a drink?”

Probably, although some of the laughter may just be out of courtesy.