That Championship Season was a Pulitzer Prize winning drama play featuring a larger than life high school basketball coach. Each year, a couple of hundred or more high school basketball teams get their ‘that championship season’ ticket punched. My ticket got punched in 1966 and I played for a larger than life coach.
Coach Matt Mazza was a burly, cigar chewing behemoth who had a brief NBA career. He was a master of dissecting opponents (more on that later) and improvising game plans that took away their strengths. Just in the last ten days, I’ve heard new Mazza stories that I hope you enjoy as much as I do.
Roll ’em, roll ’em, Rawhide
Tall Jim was a 6’6″ center who might have cracked 170 on the scales if he was permitted to carry ball bearings getting on the scales. The Niagara Frontier League was a bruising, rough and tough league. If you had a ‘back up’ element in your game, you weren’t going to be able to play in our NFL. So, with his slight frame, Jim like to take a breather from the incessant pounding by drifting to the outside on offense.
You weren’t permitted to deviate from Matt’s strictures without consequences. And, Jim found that out the hard way. The next practice, Jim noticed a rope on the floor. Matt had him tie it around one ankle. Then, Matt let out enough rope to establish the limits of Jim’s freedom to move. And knowing Matt, It was not a short practice.
The Ultimate Student Athlete
In assessing high school student-athletes, if proper rating is given to each side, then Steve is, hands down, our school’s favorite for Mr./Ms. Student-Athlete. And, departing from my normal procedure, Steve gets to tell his own story.
My favorite moment occurred in practice. Dennis Rose was guarding me. I thought I was open and went up for my patented two-inch off the ground jump shot. Rose put his hand on the ball, let me get to the top of my shot, then rolled the ball off my hand so that I shot nothing but air. Big Matt rolled his eyes as if to say, we better win this year.
Scouting Reports
Matt requested two of the team’s players meet him at the high school. He was going to take them to scout the opponent for the championship game. It was a late wintry day and it was cold. The school was closed and Matt was late. Matt rolls up late and they finally got some heat. They arrive at the game mid-way through the second quarter. A couple of minutes before half-time, Matt says “I’ve seen enough. You guys will beat them.”
The next day, the blackboard in the dressing room was filled with a detailed scouting report of each player. The trip was obviously a ruse but the two minute scouting trip had to have been a huge confidence builder. If only the seniors had let the sophomore in on the secret. Maybe they didn’t because …
Chemistry and Basketball
the sophomore had taken a whiff of chlorine during a chemistry lab experience on the day of the semi-final. He was taken to Mrs. Soper, the school nurse. Matt rushed into the nursing office yelling “what happened?” Told that chlorine had kicked his center’s butt, he left screaming “I’m going to kill him.”
Mrs. Soper called the phone in the chemistry room. “Mr. Mazza is on his way. It might be a good idea not to be there when he arrives.”
Matt had three flights of stairs and an extremely long corridor (for a 300+ man) to traverse. By the time Matt reached the room, the teacher was gone. Wisely, he didn’t seek refuge in the principal’s office. An angry Matt would have equated the principal with the teacher. Meanwhile, the real villain was sleeping off the chlorine.
Skating and Basketball Players
A strict no-no for Matt. Yet, several teammates had ice skates. In Griffon Manor, big feet youths could count on L. D. to lend his size 12 skates. One night, I borrowed L. D.’s skates to go to the local ice skating rink. We were playing tag and having a good time when the most feared words imaginable were heard.
“Here comes Coach Mazza!”
Immediately, the ballplayers scrambled over the boards farthest from the rink entrance. As we ducked down, Matt remained stationary with his ever present stogie. Friends would skate by announcing his continuing presence. Finally, he left but we remained hidden for a few, frozen minutes more.
I haven’t ice skated since.
Scatological Alert
The last game of my senior year, Matt started five seniors for the only time that year. Bob was one of the seniors getting his first start of the season. Bob was 5’9″ and could dunk a volleyball. He was quick and athletic but slight of build.
Bob was a whirlwind in the 4 plus minutes he was on the court. When he was substituted for, Matt created him with a big smile.
“Where have you been all year?”, Matt asked.
Bob replied, “At the end of the f’ing bench.” Then, he walked to the end of the bench.
