Mark Montieth: ‘A great fraternity’

Flory Bidunga doesn’t understand what he’s gotten himself into. How could he? A kid who was raised in the Republic of the Congo and didn’t move to Indiana until he turned 16 can’t be expected to understand the significance of having “Mr. Basketball” added to his resume.

The people around Kokomo High School, where he played the past three years, have given him a crash course.

“When I first came here, I didn’t know anything about it, but with time I learned about it,” said Bidunga, who was a clear choice for this year’s honor. “I’ve learned it’s a great thing, so obviously I’m proud of it.”

Bidunga, a Kansas recruit who led the Indiana all-stars in their annual series with a Kentucky team last weekend, hasn’t scanned a list of previous winners of the honor to get a feel for what kind of club he joined. It wouldn’t matter much if he did. How could he be expected to know 32 of them played in the ABA or NBA and four played for the Harlem Globetrotters or similar touring teams? What could names such as Oscar Robertson or George McGinnis possibly mean to someone who grew up in central Africa and hasn’t been steeped in Hoosier Hysteria?

Asked if he is aware of any previous winners, Bidunga said, “I know Braden Smith (2022) was one.” Then he paused a moment and asked, “Is Ty Haliburton one?”

Told no, Bidunga asked, “What about that kid from Indiana who went to Golden State?”

That would be Trace Jackson-Davis. And, yes, he was Mr. Basketball in 2019.

The award doesn’t convey the status it did in the era when winners were told with tongue only slightly planted in cheek that they were now more famous than the governor, because high school basketball doesn’t have the same hold on the public’s attention. Bidunga, however, will learn that, in Indiana at least, having been Mr. Basketball and playing in the annual all-star series against a team from Kentucky can be a lifelong ace in the hole. It will always be with him, lending status, confidence and a pleasant memory. Maybe even a job, if he ever needs one outside of basketball.

‘A great honor’

It is, indeed, “a great thing,” according to past winners. So great that most if not all have a clear memory of how they learned they had won the award.

Crispus Attucks star Hallie Bryant, who at 90 is the oldest living Mr. Basketball (1953), took a call from game director Bill Shover on his family’s party line. “It was like winning the Oscar in Hollywood,” he said.

Milan’s Bobby Plump, the 1954 winner, grew up in a house without running water or a telephone, so Shover had to call Schroder’s Drug Store in Pierceville, just outside of Milan, and ask someone to tell Plump to call him back. Plump had hit the game-winning shot in Milan’s state championship victory and won the Trester Award for mental attitude just a couple of months earlier but knew nothing about Mr. Basketball. So when he called back—collect—and Shover told him he had been voted the state’s best senior player, Plump blurted out, “Oh, —-!”

Larry Humes (1962) was playing a pickup game at a park near his home in Madison when his high school coach, Bud Ritter, drove over to deliver the news.

“It was on Good Friday,” Humes said. “I was happy, surprised … shocked, really. It was a great honor. I just wanted to be on the all-star team.”

Rick Jones (1963) was called down to the principal’s office along with Muncie Central teammate Mike Rolf. First, Rolf was informed he had been selected to the all-star team. And then Jones was told he would be Mr. Basketball. “It changed my life,” Jones said.

Billy Keller (1965) was sitting in a math class at Washington High School when his coach, Jerry Oliver, called him into the hallway. “You probably ought to be seated when I tell you this, but I want you to know you’ve been selected Mr. Basketball,” Oliver told him.

“I shouldn’t have gone back in because I couldn’t really concentrate on what I was doing,” Keller recalled.

Billy Shepherd (1968) finished his college career as Butler’s all-time leading scorer, was voted Most Valuable Player of the East-West all-star game in 1972 and played three seasons in the ABA. Nothing, however, topped the feeling he got when he received the phone call in his Carmel home informing him that he would wear the No. 1 jersey in the all-star series against Kentucky.

It happened to come on April 1, and the caller made a point of mentioning it wasn’t an April Fool’s joke.

“It was a once-in-a-lifetime phone call,” Shepherd recalled. “I don’t think words can describe the effect it had on my life. It was that big of a deal.”

The backstory

It wasn’t a big deal at first. A lost detail amid the award’s 85-year history is that it was born randomly, an unintended consequence, really. And for some, it was given retroactively.

George Crowe is regarded as Indiana’s first Mr. Basketball, but it’s not as though someone at The Indianapolis Star, the original sponsor of the honor and the all-star game featuring the recipient, had a brainstorm and announced it. It was a product of evolution rather than a big bang.

A basketball clinic was scheduled for Butler University’s fieldhouse on Friday, Aug. 18, 1939, led by Frankfort High School coach Everett Case, whose team had won that year’s state championship. It was open to coaches and fans, so either Case or someone at the newspaper came up with the idea of conducting a game afterward to help draw a crowd. Frankfort’s seniors would play an all-star team of seniors from schools around the state.

But how to select a team? Beginning in June, ballots were placed in the Star and about half a dozen other newspapers in the state for fans to pick a team of two guards, two forwards and a center, along with a coach for the group.

The player whose name appeared most often on the ballots, easily, was Crowe, who had led Franklin High School to the final game of the state tournament, where it lost to Frankfort. The highly regarded Crowe had been widely expected to receive the Gimbel Medal, the predecessor to the Trester Award, but the voting panel of school principals awarded it to Jim Myers of Evansville Bosse, which had lost to Franklin in the semifinals.

Sportswriters throughout the state were incensed. One from the Munster Times wrote, “The five men who ignored colored George Crowe of Franklin muffed a swell opportunity to prove—at least to all Indiana basketball fans—that Indiana does have racial tolerance.” Another from the Journal and Courier in Lafayette wrote, “The cherished Gimbel prize will never be the same again after the lack of courage or lack of intelligence displayed by the selection committee.”

Perhaps spurred by all the fiery prose, fans mailed in 48,375 votes for Crowe to play in the game, which the all-stars won, 31-21. Crowe, a center, scored five points, grabbed 10 rebounds and dominated defensively.

No attendance figure was given for the game, but about 1,200 people attended the clinic. That was enough to motivate Star Sports Editor Blondie Patton to push for a game against an all-star team from Kentucky the following year, and the series took off. Fans continued to be part of the voting procedure, joined by sportswriters and radio broadcasters, from 1940-1942. The game was canceled because of World War II in ’43 and ’44, then resumed in ’45. Fans were removed from the voting procedure, and the game was moved from August to June.

Patton also informally dropped the tag “Mr. Basketball” into his newspaper articles for the first time that year and continued using it in subsequent years. It made its way into a headline for the first time in 1947 when Bill Garrett was voted the honor and stuck for good. As time passed, it was retroactively applied to the players who had been the leading vote-getters for the all-star game by the fan ballots from 1939-1942.

Appreciation grows

It took several years for the concept of a Mr. Basketball award to spread across the country. California in 1950 became the second state to name one. Some, such as Illinois and Ohio, didn’t begin selecting one until the 1980s. There are competing honors these days. Gatorade, for example, sponsors a player of the year award in every state.

It remains an institution in Indiana, although slightly less entrenched. The Indiana Basketball Coaches Association now administrates the award as well as the selection of the all-star team, via voting from coaches and select media members. The Star remains the title sponsor of the game against Kentucky that is played in Indianapolis, and the Indiana Pacers are a sponsor of the Mr. Basketball honor.

Life is more complicated these days, but becoming Mr. Basketball remains a big deal—one that only grows in stature over the years, according to the winners. It guarantees a measure of immortality among basketball fans, if nothing else.

Kojak Fuller had that pointed out to him by his mother. Fuller, out of Anderson High School, was given the honor after Sherron Wilkerson became the only player to vacate it by quitting the all-star team out of anger over his playing time following the first game of the series in Kentucky in 1993. Fuller refused it at first, but his mother convinced him to change his mind.

“She told me, ‘Years down the line, when people open books, your name will be there,’” Fuller recalled.

People do remember. Last year, Humes, Keller and 1964 winner Denny Brady were brought in to sit together at a table and sign autographs before the all-star game in Indianapolis. It was a reminder of the long memory the honor inspires and the respect it still generates.

“As time goes along, you appreciate it a little more,” said Humes, who was a Division II All-American at Evansville. “You realize it’s an honor you’ll have for the rest of your life. And you try to live up to it. I represented Mr. Basketball off the court and on the court. Even today, I represent Mr. Basketball.

“It’s a great fraternity. You look back on it, and you’re grateful to be in it. And it opens doors for you if you take advantage of it.”

Shepherd tries to keep the fraternal spirit alive by dropping notes to other Mr. Basketballs he meets. A few years ago, he was invited to speak to the Indiana all-stars and tried to explain the delayed gratification that would come with their honor.

Bidunga will find out eventually.

“I can’t speak for what it means to them, but I’m sure as they look back on it, it will mean just as much to them as it does to all of us,” Shepherd said. “It becomes a bigger deal as time goes on.”•

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Montieth, an Indianapolis native, is a longtime newspaper reporter and freelance writer. He is the author of three books: “Passion Play: Coach Gene Keady and the Purdue Boilermakers,” “Reborn: The Pacers and the Return of Pro Basketball to Indianapolis,” and “Extra Innings: My Life in Baseball,” with former Indianapolis Indians President Max Schumacher.