Bill Boone '60 - Charlie Bowerman, the Wizard of Alamo, the sportswriters called him. He was the original proof of the statement that "White men can't jump," or run or play defense. However, that "White Man" could shoot and pass and dribble the ball like nobody else I ever played with or against. He was so intense, so relentless, and so determined that he should have been called "The Assassin of Alamo." If he had been 6'9, he would have been the Larry Bird of his day. He was a truly gifted basketball player and made everybody on the floor a better player. Anyone who didn't watch him when he had the ball ran the risk of getting hit in the head with the ball or in the case of Rusty Cleland, in the chest. How many times in practice did Charlie whip a pass into the post and drill Rusty right in the chest?

Charlie and I went to different schools together. He was an Alamo Warrior and I was a Ladoga Canner in the late 50's when there were still ten small schools in Montgomery County. To be quite honest, I don't remember much about playing against Charlie in high school. I think that Alamo always played Ladoga at Ladoga because we had pretty good fan support and Alamo's gym was quite small. Charlie was a junior and I was a senior when we played the last time at Ladoga. I seem to remember that the game was close for three quarters with Alamo holding a lead going into the last quarter (I'll have to check my scrapbook) and then we put on a furious rally to win going away.

I remember getting several easy baskets that night off missed free throws. In those days, the free throw lane only six feet wide. It really did look like a keyhole. The old-time radio announcers referred to it as the key and some announcers today refer to a player shooting from the "top of the key" even though the free throw circle and the lane doesn't look anything like a keyhole anymore. The rules makers ruined my game when they widened the lane to twelve feet. It really looked weird to see the lines extend straight down from the free throw circle to the respective end line. The international lines look even stranger as they go at an angle to end line to widen out the post area even more. The other rule change that killed me was when they gave both inside positions to the defense on all free throws. The rules used to give one inside space to each team. That was a great advantage to the shooting team. One player was only three feet away from a score on every free throw. When there was a foul on the other end of the floor, I would sprint to our end to get one of those inside positions. We had some really bad foul shooters my senior year (I include myself in that category) and a lot of free throws just rolled off to one side or the other--easy pickings for the player with the inside position. I remember getting several easy put backs that night as we rallied to beat the Warriors.

After I graduated in 1956, I went off to Wabash to study and become a coach and Charlie finished his senior year at Alamo.  I played basketball my freshman year at Wabash and made the traveling team, but didn't play enough to letter. We had several juniors that year including Benny Fellerhoff from Muncie Central and Hal Traviola, a football player who played basketball like he played football. The returning sophomore lettermen were Sherm Franz, Mike Costello, John Hollett, Bucky Dennis, and Bob Wedgeworth. We also had a freshman sensation from Southport named Tom Bennett who came in and made an immediate impact on Little Giant basketball. I'll say more about these Little Giants later on.

When I remember Charlie Bowerman, I think immediately of all the hours we spent before practice playing HORSE, going one on one, and playing keep-a-way. When we played HORSE, the wager was always the same--loser buys the winner a coke at the Scarlet Inn. Did I ever win, you ask? All I can say is that Charlie never spent a nickel in the Scarlet Inn his junior year. I have no doubt that after I graduated in 1960, he probably found another FISH (That's slang meaning someone you can always beat) to play HORSE with. My guess is that it was Rusty Nichols, during Charlie's senior year. When we played one-on-one, the result was the same; he always won. If I played him tight he drove on me, if I backed off, he shot the deadly two-hand set shot over me. He always won. After we tired of playing those two games, he wanted to play keep-away. He would dribble the ball like Marcus Haynes and I would be like Red Plotz and try to take it away from him. It never happened. The Harlem Globetrotters always beat the Washington Generals and Alamo always beat Ladoga when we were at Wabash. Do you remember seeing the movie about the Harlem Globetrotters? I'm sure Charlie must have watched it a dozen times. At one point on a long bus trip in bad weather, the bus got stuck and after spinning its wheels for a long time, Goose Tatum, a favorite of Abe Saperstein walked up to where the coach was sitting and asked in a slow Southern drawl, "How many more miles now, Abe?" Charlie played the Goose on one of our long bus trips and asked Coach Brock, "How many more miles now, Abe?" Coach Brock cracked up. Only Charlie could have gotten away with that with the curmudgeonly coach of the Little Giants.

During practice, we ran a lot of three line drills for conditioning and ball handling (Do basketball coaches still use the same drills?). After one group went it jogged back on the outside of the regular floor waiting for the other groups to finish. It seemed like we ran for hours. To break the monotony, Charlie and I played Johnny Unitas and Raymond Berry. Whoever ended up with the ball was Johnny U. and the other one was Raymond Berry. We worked on our long, full-court passes on the way back. It may have seemed like horseplay to some, but Coach Brock never yelled at us, but then he never yelled at Charlie. He sure yelled at me a lot. Coaches seem to know who they can get on to make everybody work. That was probably a part of my contribution to Wabash College basketball.