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Here’s the point, though: Kansas and Memphis are probably the two best alley-oop teams in college hoops. And in a way, that great play defines these teams.
“I can’t imagine there are many teams that have caught as many as us two,” Kansas coach Bill Self said as confirmation.
I love the alley-oop. I love it for about 20 different reasons, beginning with the name. I love how it is a beautiful play that involves great teamwork. I love that a well-run alley-oop — good look, great pass, huge dunk — changes the dynamic of a game. I love the way the crowd responds to the alley-oop — it triggers the most spontaneous cheer in sports.
Most of all, though, I love what the alley-oop represents. College basketball is, for me, filled with too many coaches who think they’re playing chess. They micromanage every possession like tyrant Hollywood directors. They call constant timeouts, they shout out new plays every time down the floor, they act like Monet with the chalkboard, they come up with all these complicated new defenses and bewildering new offenses — you know, like they’re trying to plan the invasion of Normandy or something.
Look, it’s still just five-on-five with two hoops. UCLA’s Ben Howland is a fine coach, no doubt, and you have to admire his team’s success, but man, it can drive you nuts watching him run up and down the sideline while screaming “Michigan!” or “Stanford!” or whatever code word he has come up with. It works, sure, but from an outsider’s view, it seems like joyless basketball, robot basketball, punch-your-timecard basketball. Coaches should demand discipline. They should provide leadership. But at some point, basketball is supposed to be about the players, right? This isn’t “Hoosiers” there, Norman Dale.
(A quick aside: You probably remember how Norman Dale demanded that his team make four passes before they shoot. Well, to give you an idea about how different Bill Self is, he told his team before the North Carolina game that the key was four passes. But in his case, he meant that he wanted to force North Carolina to make four passes before shooting — he thought that would mean his team had taken the Tar Heels out of their game).
Anyway, that’s the biggest reason why I love the alley-oop. Sure, it takes discipline to run it right, to set the screens, to make the right cuts, to deliver the precise pass. But, in the end, it’s also about letting players enjoy the games. It’s about getting players to think on their own. It’s about getting out of the way and remembering the game isn’t about coaches; the game is about players.
That’s how Self and Memphis’ John Calipari coach basketball. That’s why there will be some alley-oops tonight.
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The alley-oop term apparently comes from the French circus; performers would shout “allez-hop” when they were about to jump. The term does not translate into English, so it became “alley-oop.” And it might battle the croissant for America’s favorite French import.
First, Alley Oop was a comic strip about cavemen that was popular during the Depression. Then it was a football play, which basically involved San Francisco quarterback Y.A. Tittle throwing a very high pass and letting the tall and athletic receiver R.C. Owens jump up over a defender to catch the ball. Interestingly enough, this was one of the three pass plays in the Chiefs’ playbook last season.