They overcame

Sporting News, The, March 11, 1996 by Michael Knisley

In January, Gene Keady and his team fell in love. It happened in an instant, one of those moments when something suddenly is there that wasn't before, and things change forever. They were brought together late in the afternoon of January 13 in the visiting locker room of Minnesota's old Williams Arena.

Not that they'll call it love. Not now, anyway. Not yet. To call it love is to give up too much of what college boys, especially college basketball players, are made of. You give up cool. You give up panache. You give up machismo. To call it love is to give up too much of what is demanded of a college coach, too -- especially a college coach in the middle of a season. You give up authority. You give up distance. And yes, you give up machismo, too.

Addressing it now, they're embarrassed, particularly the players. Embarrassed at the telling of the tears and the group hug that occurred after a good victory at Minnesota, before they sent their coach on his way to his father's funeral. Instead, they favor the telling of the moment later, when Keady, catching himself crying, slipped away to the bathroom to break the mood by blowing his nose for all to hear.

But it's love, nonetheless, the strongest kind of love, the kind of love forged from trouble, from surviving trouble together. The trouble has been told and re-told since January. The team that grew out of the trouble is a story still in the making, fixing to face its toughest times.

"I feel so good about this team," Keady says. "They stepped forward and showed some character I didn't see six months ago. When we had our tragedy and my dad died, the six seniors in my system really carried us.

It was really a family situation, which is what we preach here. The test of character is when you have a critical time. That's what happened. And so far, they've passed all the tests."

Many claim Gene Keady consistently does the most with the least
talent. If you look at the McDonald's All Americans he has signed
since coming to Purdue in 1980-81 compared to the prime beef his Big
Ten counterparts have cooked up over that same span, you'd have to
agree:

But without Robinson, without Martin or anyone else who has been consistently special at lighting up the scoreboard, this hardly seems like a Final Four club. At least not a team that will wow the nation with its offensive artistry.

"I like them in the tournament," Haskins says. "I really like the way they play. But because defenses are so good now and because coaches are so good at teaching defense, you need that one player to step up and create and make a shot himself. I don't know if they have that player who can create enough shots. They play within themselves and within the system. But to win a national championship or get to the Final Four ... I don't know if they have enough players to do that."

Probably not. But it's going to be fun to watch.

Lisa Keady is conscious now. She's home. She knows people. She can talk. She can remember. The rehabilitation of her motor skills will be long and hard. Keady was with her this week in New Jersey, helping her to re-learn life's basics. Like how to use a fork, or how to handle the television remote control she'll need come tournament time.

"Wouldn't it be amazing?" says Morgan Burke, Purdue's athletic director. "It would be almost a fairy-tale deal if they won it this year. And they're good enough to do it."

In love, all things are possible.