Rhythmically and repeatedly: that roiling throng, in blue and white, chanted, squealed and intoned, continuously, insistently, ominously.
"Hey-hey-hey-Hey! KC! You look so good to me...."
The student section of KC Central High School's glee club, was accompanied by a mesmerizing bass drum beat that invoked even as it convoked primal African rhythms, vibrations, and spirits.
The venue was Kiehl Auditorium in St. Louis, Missouri; the year, 1966. The occasion: the Missouri State High School Basketball Championship finals. The combatants: Springfield Parkview High School from Springfield, Missouri, and Kansas City Central High School of Kansas City, Missouri.
Me: I was a gushing, wide-eyed, 15-year old, spectator, still in junior high, who had traveled with a friend and his father "downtown" to see this game. My friend, having attended the preliminary round, and having read the sports pages, extolled, in-between our classes, this KC team.
I had been rather blasé about his expostulations, at first; after all, St. Louis was the be-all and end-all of Missouri sports, I thought. KC was not on the radar of my perception.
Then, he dropped the bomb: "Hey man, everybody on that KC team can dunk, even the little guy; and he's no bigger than us!" My jaw dropped! That was amazing. He and I were both runts, less than 5'11", and could barely touch the net of a ten foot high school basketball goal. Dunk?
This I had to see. This, I did see!
In the midst of their musical miasma, the KC Central players, after warming up, went to center court and lined up. One after another, the tallest going first, each and every member of that team dribbled to the hoop and dunked. Tensions mounted.
The little guy's turn was coming up. Drum roll. The Central team formed a double row. The little guy dribbled through them. Then, gathering speed and himself, he approached the hoop. Rises. Rises some more. Still rises. And slams! The place explodes!
"Woohoo!" Goes the crowd. "Woohoo!"
Game over already!
An unmistakable message had been sent to Springfield Parkview, a previously undefeated all-white team from southwest Missouri. A not-so-subliminal message, whose import was clear: "Prepare for the fire and the fury of KC, white boys. Top this!"
I don't even remember the final score. Central won, needless to say, having been aided by twins named Odell and Rodell McMurray.
These two McMurray brothers, another KC Central marvel, on display, dunked with basketballs in each of their hands, boom-boom!
I was spent, pre-game. Too through. Before the game had ever begun, it was already over. Springfield knew that it was over, too! It had to be. They had watched KC's half-court histrionics and amazing athleticism, also. They had to have wondered, along with everyone else who witnessed: "My God! What is this?"
"Hey-hey-hey-Hey, KC! You look so good to me!"
Thursday, February 20, 2014
KANSAS CITY RHYTHMS, VIBRATIONS, AND BEATS
KANSAS CITY RHYTHMS, VIBRATIONS AND BEATS
"Hey-hey-hey-Hey! KC! You look so good to me." 
Rhythmically and repeatedly: that roiling throng, in blue and white, chanted, squealed and intoned, continuously, insistently, ominously.
"Hey-hey-hey-Hey! KC! You look so good to me...."
The student section of KC Central High School's glee club, was accompanied by a mesmerizing bass drum beat that invoked even as it convoked primal African rhythms, vibrations, and spirits.
The venue was Kiehl Auditorium in St. Louis, Missouri; the year, 1966. The occasion: the Missouri State High School Basketball Championship finals. The combatants: Springfield Parkview High School from Springfield, Missouri, and Kansas City Central High School of Kansas City, Missouri.
Me: I was a gushing, wide-eyed, 15-year old, spectator, still in junior high, who had traveled with a friend and his father "downtown" to see this game. My friend, having attended the preliminary round, and having read the sports pages, extolled, in-between our classes, this KC team.
I had been rather blasé about his expostulations, at first; after all, St. Louis was the be-all and end-all of Missouri sports, I thought. KC was not on the radar of my perception.
Then, he dropped the bomb: "Hey man, everybody on that KC team can dunk, even the little guy; and he's no bigger than us!" My jaw dropped! That was amazing. He and I were both runts, less than 5'11", and could barely touch the net of a ten foot high school basketball goal. Dunk?
This I had to see. This, I did see!
In the midst of their musical miasma, the KC Central players, after warming up, went to center court and lined up. One after another, the tallest going first, each and every member of that team dribbled to the hoop and dunked. Tensions mounted.
The little guy's turn was coming up. Drum roll. The Central team formed a double row. The little guy dribbled through them. Then, gathering speed and himself, he approached the hoop. Rises. Rises some more. Still rises. And slams! The place explodes!
"Woohoo!" Goes the crowd. "Woohoo!"
Game over already!
An unmistakable message had been sent to Springfield Parkview, a previously undefeated all-white team from southwest Missouri. A not-so-subliminal message, whose import was clear: "Prepare for the fire and the fury of KC, white boys. Top this!"
I don't even remember the final score. Central won, needless to say, having been aided by twins named Odell and Rodell McMurray.
These two McMurray brothers, another KC Central marvel, on display, dunked with basketballs in each of their hands, boom-boom!
I was spent, pre-game. Too through. Before the game had ever begun, it was already over. Springfield knew that it was over, too! It had to be. They had watched KC's half-court histrionics and amazing athleticism, also. They had to have wondered, along with everyone else who witnessed: "My God! What is this?"
"Hey-hey-hey-Hey, KC! You look so good to me!"
Rhythmically and repeatedly: that roiling throng, in blue and white, chanted, squealed and intoned, continuously, insistently, ominously.
"Hey-hey-hey-Hey! KC! You look so good to me...."
The student section of KC Central High School's glee club, was accompanied by a mesmerizing bass drum beat that invoked even as it convoked primal African rhythms, vibrations, and spirits.
The venue was Kiehl Auditorium in St. Louis, Missouri; the year, 1966. The occasion: the Missouri State High School Basketball Championship finals. The combatants: Springfield Parkview High School from Springfield, Missouri, and Kansas City Central High School of Kansas City, Missouri.
Me: I was a gushing, wide-eyed, 15-year old, spectator, still in junior high, who had traveled with a friend and his father "downtown" to see this game. My friend, having attended the preliminary round, and having read the sports pages, extolled, in-between our classes, this KC team.
I had been rather blasé about his expostulations, at first; after all, St. Louis was the be-all and end-all of Missouri sports, I thought. KC was not on the radar of my perception.
Then, he dropped the bomb: "Hey man, everybody on that KC team can dunk, even the little guy; and he's no bigger than us!" My jaw dropped! That was amazing. He and I were both runts, less than 5'11", and could barely touch the net of a ten foot high school basketball goal. Dunk?
This I had to see. This, I did see!
In the midst of their musical miasma, the KC Central players, after warming up, went to center court and lined up. One after another, the tallest going first, each and every member of that team dribbled to the hoop and dunked. Tensions mounted.
The little guy's turn was coming up. Drum roll. The Central team formed a double row. The little guy dribbled through them. Then, gathering speed and himself, he approached the hoop. Rises. Rises some more. Still rises. And slams! The place explodes!
"Woohoo!" Goes the crowd. "Woohoo!"
Game over already!
An unmistakable message had been sent to Springfield Parkview, a previously undefeated all-white team from southwest Missouri. A not-so-subliminal message, whose import was clear: "Prepare for the fire and the fury of KC, white boys. Top this!"
I don't even remember the final score. Central won, needless to say, having been aided by twins named Odell and Rodell McMurray.
These two McMurray brothers, another KC Central marvel, on display, dunked with basketballs in each of their hands, boom-boom!
I was spent, pre-game. Too through. Before the game had ever begun, it was already over. Springfield knew that it was over, too! It had to be. They had watched KC's half-court histrionics and amazing athleticism, also. They had to have wondered, along with everyone else who witnessed: "My God! What is this?"
"Hey-hey-hey-Hey, KC! You look so good to me!"
