This doesn't shock TB. The Princeton-Penn rival during Carril's time was a lot of things and was ultra-competitive. In the end, though, there was nothing but admiration for the other side.
Carril might have been the biggest target of vitriol from the Penn stands, but there isn't a knowledgeable Penn fan out there who didn't appreciate what Carril stood for and did and how his teams played hard.
TB's Penn colleague Quaker Meeting House wrote a long piece yesterday about his experiences with the coach and with Princeton basketball in general. Like most people, QMH was quite awed by Carril, whose presence alone was enough to get your full attention.
TB asked QMH (he's the one in the middle of the picture above) if he could put it here today so Princeton fans could see it as well, and he immediately agreed. Here is QMH's post, word-for-word (TB did take it upon himself to correct a few punctuation errors, but hey, it's Penn, right?):
He's probably not alone among folks in the Penn basketball community. Carril's death
recalls a different time in Ivy League basketball, when Penn and Princeton were
the "Killer P's" and everyone else was the "Little
Six." Quite simply, Penn-Princeton men's basketball is the best rivalry—any
sport—in the Ivy League, and for more than four decades it might have been
the best rivalry in all of college basketball. Throughout that time the players
came and went, writing their three and then four-year chapters
before moving on into the history books. But for three of those decades there
was one constant, and for Penn fans he sat on the enemy bench: Pete
Carril.
Carril's first year at Princeton, 1967-68, the Tigers tied Columbia for the Ivy
title and then lost to the Lions in a playoff to determine the league's NCAA bid.
Over the next 28 years of his career, up until his infamous "I'm
Retiring/I'm Very Happy" chalk talk in 1996, Penn and/or Princeton won the
Ivy crown a staggering 26 times, the lone exceptions coming in 1986 (Brown) and
1988 (Cornell). The "ands" in that and/or came in 1980, 1981 and
1996, when Penn and Princeton finished the regular season tied and had to play
a third game for the NCAA bid.
And remember, the Ivy League Tournament wasn't even a blip on anyone's radar
through all those years. Nope. The regular-season champion got the Ivy League's
bid to the NCAA Tournament. Every game in the "14-game tournament"
was important. And those Penn-Princeton games? Wars. Absolute wars.
What's amazing is that Carril coached against the Quakers through the entirety
of arguably the program's two most iconic eras. Think about it. His
first season, Penn's celebrated Class of 1971 was playing freshman ball. His
last season, he ended the Quakers' three-year run of NCAA Tournament
appearances (thanks to a trio of 14-0 Ivy League seasons). Along the way, he
squared off against no fewer than six different Penn head coaches: Dick Harter,
Chuck Daly, Bob Weinhauer, Craig Littlepage, Tom Schneider, and Fran Dunphy.
Coach Carril had a staggering 310 wins in Ivy League play—all these years
later, no other coach in League history has even 200—but Penn fans will revel
in the fact that he finished with a losing record against the Quakers. He went
27-34.
QMH got a call from Coach Weinhauer late on Monday. Weinhauer was the outlier
among the six Penn coaches mentioned above, going 9-3 against Carril including
a split of those first two Ivy playoff games (Penn winning 50-49 in 1980; the
Tigers winning 54-40 a year later). Coach wanted to talk about Carril and he
wanted a statement put out. It was important to him that Coach Carril and, by
extension, the entire Princeton basketball community, understand the respect
that everyone in the Penn basketball family had for Carril. He must have said
it at least three times: they need to know that we hated facing them, but man
did we respect them. There isn't a Penn player or coach out there who didn't
respect the hell out of Coach Carril's Princeton teams!
QMH arrived at Penn long after Coach Carril had retired. In fact, it stuns him
to realize that Coach was retired nearly as many years (26) as he coached at
Princeton (29). And yet, he is nearly as stunned to realize the role that the
man played in his life.
Coach Carril first came into QMH's orbit when QMH was in college at Dartmouth. When
Carril brought his Princeton team to Hanover and Leede Arena on March 3, 1989,
QMH didn't know about Penn and Princeton's dominance throughout the 70s and
80s. What he did know was that Dartmouth needed to beat the Tigers that
night, then beat Penn the next night and hope that Harvard could beat
Princeton. If that happened, then…see you at the Ivy League playoff, Tigers!
With a packed house constantly yelling "Sit Down Pete!" and
"Yoooo-da!" Dartmouth did what it had to do and dismantled the
Tigers, 53-43. The next night, with a potential playoff so close you could
almost touch it, the Big Green routed the Quakers by 21. With the game itself
never in doubt, the drama came whenever the press row phone rang. (See, kids,
there was a time before cell phones when the schools called each other to give
score updates…). It wasn't until late in the game, after the starters had been
pulled and the seniors had gotten their moments, that the bad news from
Cambridge was read out loud: Princeton 73, Harvard 64.
There would be no Ivy League playoff. Dartmouth, in QMH's mind the far superior
team, was out of the NCAAs and Princeton was in. (By the way, do not bring
up the injury Dartmouth star Jim Barton suffered at Princeton earlier in the
season. It was probably the difference.)
Nearly two weeks later, QMH was at the Providence Civic Center with his father
and one of his best friends—coincidentally, a Princeton freshman. Together,
they witnessed what's been called the most important game in NCAA Tournament
history: Georgetown 50, Princeton
49. QMH, proud to a fault, didn't
cheer for the Tigers for even a second of it. In his mind, that spot should
have been Dartmouth's. (Now he wonders what the NCAA Tournament would look like
today if the basketball gods had in fact put the Big Green out there with the
Hoyas.) The rest of QMH's college experience was totally dominated by the
Tigers. The names are still so familiar: George Leftwich. Sean Jackson. Matt
Eastwick. Kit Mueller.
After graduation, QMH took a job at the Ivy League office. In Princeton. And
during that year, QMH became a part of Coach Carril's orbit.
QMH's boss at the Ivy office was Chuck Yrigoyen, who had only recently been the
Princeton basketball SID for Coach Carril. Chuck quickly got QMH involved with
the Tuesday/Thursday noon hoops games at Jadwin Gym, and while occasionally
Coach Carril would join in usually he could be found at the track next door
walking laps with his Walkman on. Two memories stand out:
*Sitting in the locker room after a particular day's game, QMH and Chuck were
getting ready to go back to work when Coach came in, headphones still on.
Chuck, jovial as ever, said "what do we got today, Coach? Italian guitar
music? Opera?" Coach got that smirk on his face and wordlessly handed
Chuck his headset. Chuck put it on and quickly burst out with his distinct laugh.
At which point Coach put it back on, got that twinkle in his eye and, in full
throat, sang out: "Welcome to the Hotel California! Such a lovely
place…"
*The second came one of the times Coach Carril joined in the noon game. QMH was
assigned to guard him, and what QMH remembers are three things: Coach barely
left the top of the key, choosing instead to pass the ball around and instruct
his teammates on where they should go; when left open, he absolutely nailed every
damn underhanded set shot he took; and when it was over, he playfully needled a
furious QMH about how thankful he was that QMH had taken it easy on the old
guy.
Chuck's status in Coach Carril's "inner circle" also allowed QMH to
be a part of many postgame dinners and drinks that year, whether it was Andy's
Tavern or Conte's Pizza. For a 23-year-old, it was the closest thing to being
with a celebrity.
That same year, in his capacity as an Ivy League employee, QMH got to witness
his first ever game at The Palestra. You might remember it. January 30, 1993.
Led by youngsters like Matt Maloney (18 points), Tim Krug (12) and Jerome Allen
(11) and veteran Barry Pierce, Penn rolled the then four-time defending
champion Tigers, 64-46.
An unforgettable indoctrination.
Following his Ivy internship, QMH returned to Dartmouth for six years as an
assistant SID. It was during that time that he got to see the Penn-Princeton
rivalry for what it was, two powerhouse programs duking it out year after year.
In particular, from afar he witnessed that historic 10-day period in 1996 when
Penn beat Princeton to force a one-game playoff; the Tigers returned the favor
with an overtime in the playoff at Lehigh ("I'm retiring/I'm very
happy"); and then, of course, that NCAA Tournament game between Princeton
and UCLA.
QMH's next stop in his career was Northwestern University, and in his second
year he was promoted to working with the men's basketball program. The
Wildcats' new head coach? Bill Carmody, for so many years Coach Carril's second
lieutenant at Princeton. Over the next five years, QMH got a crash course in
Carmody's iteration of the famed "Princeton Offense." The son of a
basketball coach himself, QMH couldn't have asked for a better experience.
(QMH's favorite play? "Chin," which broken down most simply involved
getting the ball to the wing and setting a screen for a player at the off-ball
elbow. Depending on how the defense reacted, the off-ball player either cut for
a layup or popped out for an open jumper. Whenever Coach Carmody called
"Chin," QMH would excitedly pop up in his seat because he knew it was
a guaranteed bucket.)
Carmody had quite a staff at Northwestern. There was Paul Lee, who later worked
at Marist and continues to coach these days at the high school level. There was
Craig Robinson, a former Tiger under Coach Carril who later was head coach at
Brown and Oregon State and is currently executive director of the National
Association of Basketball Coaches (NABC). And the kid on staff? Why, none other
than Mitch Henderson.
Man, those were five fun years. And yeah, every now and then during that time
The Man himself might show up. QMH remembers at least two or three occasions
walking into practice and getting to re-acquaint himself with Coach Carril.
QMH is so thankful to have those relationships. They shaped him personally and
professionally and he wouldn't trade the experiences for anything. He loved
seeing Coach Robinson for those years when Robinson's daughter was playing at
Princeton, and following Michael Brown's death in 2020 QMH was moved to contact
Craig knowing they had so many great battles in college. Of course, QMH sees
Mitch all the time since he now coaches the Tigers—the fourth Carril player to
do so since Coach retired—and it's always good to recount some of the good
ol' days. (After the game, of course. All business before that.)
Of course, QMH eventually left Northwestern for Penn, moving from Coach Carmody
to Coach Dunphy and "the Dark Side" as Coach Carmody jokingly said
when QMH broke the news to him. As the years went by, QMH would occasionally
see Coach at a Penn-Princeton game. Sometimes he might say hello, but more
often than not he wouldn't. He figured Coach had probably forgotten who he was,
but it was better not to know it. The memories are too precious.
Coach Carril's passing, sadly, is yet another reminder for an extended
cross-section of Penn basketball fans that time waits for no one. Earlier this
summer, the Penn community mourned the passing of Booney Salters, a key member
of the Quakers' 1979 Final Four team and a guy who had lit up every room he’d
entered since then. Booney was directly involved in some of the most iconic
plays in program history, among them hitting the game-winning
shot in Penn's 1980 Ivy playoff win over Princeton.
The DP headline after that game? "Salters Sits Pete Down One Last
Time."
#FightOnPenn
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