Collins' contributions to KU's title-game rally shouldn't be forgotten

Everyone remembers Carlton Fisk’s homer. It is unforgettable. Fisk came up in the bottom of the 12th inning of perhaps the greatest World Series game ever played, game six, 1975. The score was tied. Fisk crushed a Pat Darcy pitch down the left-field line. He jumped up and down and tried to wave the ball fair.

The ball hit the foul pole that is now named for Carlton Fisk.

Yes, everyone remembers that home run. Few, though, remember Bernie Carbo’s home run. And that one was even bigger. That’s how sports history goes. Drama lasts. The final moment lasts. And people sometimes forget what mattered most. In the eighth inning of that same game, Boston trailed by three runs, and Carbo had two strikes against him. The game seemed over. The series seemed over. On the next pitch, Carbo just barely managed to foul off what would have been strike three.

On the next pitch, Carbo crushed an amazing three-run home run to deep center that tied the game and gave Fisk his stage.

Mario Chalmers’ shot will be remembered the way Fisk’s homer is remembered now. He hit that incredible three-point shot that tied Memphis in the final seconds of the NCAA Tournament. “Mario’s Miracle,” Sports Illustrated called it. Super Mario, everyone calls him. In the wild moments after Kansas beat Memphis and won its first national title in two decades, I wrote that Kansas kids will be shooting the Chalmers shots for the next 50 years, and I believe that still.

The only shame of it will be that people might forget about Sherron Collins’ play. He could become the Bernie Carbo of this great Kansas team, and that would be a shame. Collins’ play deserves to be remembered. His play, like Carbo’s, was even bigger.

Collins’ play came with Kansas down seven points, with less than two minutes on the clock, with the Memphis Tigers’ players and coaches already thinking about ring sizes and the visit to the White House. Who comes back from seven down in the final two minutes? John Elway, maybe. Some of the Jayhawks players would talk honestly about this, too; they thought the game was over. They would play hard to the end because that’s what you do, but some of them, most of them, did not really believe they could win.

Sherron Collins did believe, though. This is the guy’s gift. Collins had a rough year. He was hobbled by a seemingly endless string of injuries — foot, knees, ankles — and even when he had played, he was only a percentage of himself. All along, though, Kansas coach Bill Self predicted that when it mattered, when the team needed him most, when the game was close and time was running down, Sherron Collins would be the man in the middle.

Self and other coaches call it “toughness,” but there’s something more to it — lots of players are tough. The thing about Collins is that he sees himself as the hero of the story. The pressure moment comes — and you know how coaches will talk about how someone “wants the ball.” Well, Sherron needs the ball. He plays as if he’s already read the script and knows that he’s supposed to be the star.

Maybe that comes from growing up on gritty courts in Chicago. Maybe it is just something he was born with. Whatever the reason, every time Kansas faced trouble this season, you would see Collins emerge and take a big shot, make a bold play, do something. He didn’t always come through, of course. But he always forced his way into the game.

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To reach Joe Posnanski, call 816-234-4361 or send e-mail to jposnanski @kcstar.com. For previous columns, go to KansasCity.com.