Five years ago, on a cold February night, Clem Haskins made a rare return to Williams Arena some 15 years after he resigned amid scandal in 1999. He was surrounded by his former players from the Gophers team that reached the 1989 Sweet Sixteen, there to be honored for the 25th anniversary of their NCAA Tournament run.
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He wore a charcoal suit and a blue shirt and shook away the nerves of the night once he saw some of his former players. But he knew the night wasn’t about him. It never again will be at The Barn.
So Haskins remained in his seat as the former players were introduced on the famed raised court at halftime, trying to hide his emotions, spurned by the school he once loved because of his role in extensive academic fraud that included a tutor preparing nearly 400 pieces of coursework on behalf of players, according to an NCAA investigation.
Fans, though, took notice of the massive absence on the court. They chanted Haskins’ name and eyes turned toward him. The players he taught saw it as a chance to pay back their coach. Against the school’s wishes, a few of them entered the stands and brought Haskins onto the floor. Haskins’ eyes welled with tears, and for a brief moment, it felt like this might be the beginning of a new relationship.
The university and NCAA, of course, will never again record the accomplishments of Haskins’ final six seasons from 1993-1999, part of the sanctions imposed on the school. But, for one night, it seemed public recognition of all that was accomplished during that time — most notably the school’s only Final Four appearance, in 1997 — might take place.
Instead, three years later, the 20-year anniversary of that 1997 run came and went without ceremony. Players weren’t invited on the court. Haskins wasn’t invited back. The banner that once commemorated the best team in school history remains tucked away in an undisclosed location, never to be displayed again.
“I don’t know why it was a lifetime ban,” said Bobby Jackson, the point guard and star of that team. “But at the end of the day, you’ve got to deal with the consequences of the problems you create, and I’m cool with that.”
“You tell me what young college student at that time did everything right and didn’t make mistakes?” Bobby Jackson says of the Gophers’ scandal. “The biggest thing is just learn from those mistakes.” (Brian Bahr / Getty Images)
Given more than two decades of hindsight, that chapter of Gophers basketball is a complicated one. On one hand, the NCAA found indisputable evidence of academic fraud that extended to at least 18 players and caused two top administrators to join Haskins in resigning. And yet, it’s become clear in the years since that corruption of many kinds has been a prevalent force in the sport that, to some, can make the Gophers’ misdeeds pale in comparison.
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“What happened with us compared to today’s basketball corruption is peanuts,” Jackson said. “And we’re still being penalized.”
The record books no longer reflect the 31-4 record that 1997 team posted, or the thrilling double-overtime win that sent them to the Elite Eight or the win over UCLA in San Antonio that advanced the Gophers to the program’s first and only Final Four. But for the members of that team, the memories remain vivid. They don’t often see each other or chat on the phone, save for this week, Final Four week. But when they do talk, it all comes back with ease — the stories that can’t be taken away of the 1997 Gophers.
The 1995-96 season had ended without an appearance in the NCAA Tournament. Jackson, in his first year on campus, had been hurt most of the season. Forward Courtney James had suffered a foot injury, too. Others, like guard Eric Harris, hadn’t played as well as they hoped. But seven wins in their final nine regular-season games raised hopes entering the offseason.
Coaches weren’t allowed to keep the whole team on campus over the summer, but captains made it clear that there would be a price to pay for skipping optional workouts. Track exercises took place a little after 5 a.m. Weight lifting was at 6 a.m. And full-court pickup games followed, often with Haskins watching from the stands.
Those 5-on-5 games became fabled among the participants. The Gophers usually had more than 10 players there, the basis, many of them said, for teamwork that became apparent the following season. Games were conducted on an invite-only basis.
“Good hoopers know good hoopers,” forward John Thomas said of how the rosters were filled.
Shortly after one session began on an early summer day, a face many players knew only from TV and magazines walked up the stairs to the raised court. Some looked on in awe.
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“We got winners,” Kevin Garnett said, according to three former players. He was with some of his new Timberwolves teammates after his rookie season in Minnesota and had heard about the pickup games that were going on at Williams Arena.
But Haskins hopped out of the stands for the only time all summer. The coach welcomed Garnett and thanked him for coming to Dinkytown. But, he said, my guys are already in line for the next game. You’ll have to wait your turn, he told KG.
“That was coach Haskins,” Harris said. “He didn’t care if it was Kevin Garnett or Michael Jordan — he was just all about his own guys.”
James had played Garnett in AAU games growing up, so he knew what to expect. He told his teammates not to be intimated when Garnett started talking trash, a feat easier said than done.
“He was the trash talker of all trash talkers,” James said. “And he backed it up. But we held our own. We were pretty good, so it was competitive. Of course, he had an advantage and he blocked a lot of shots and scored whenever he got the ball by the basket, but we held our own and battled and competed. I think that’s what he respected the most. We didn’t back down from him. If he was talking crazy, we would talk crazy right back. … But it was fun. It definitely made us better. It did nothing but help.”
The 1996-97 Gophers reached Christmas with a 9-1 record and early signs of a team that could compete with any in the nation. But Haskins remained hard on his players and feared a few days off at the holidays might distract them. They were set to play Long Island University on Dec. 28, a relatively easy nonconference game before the Big Ten schedule began.
Sensing they weren’t fully ready, Haskins delivered a warning the day before the game. For every point they score over 50, Haskins told his team, you’ll be running one series of sprints at practice the following day.
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Just as Haskins feared, the Gophers struggled out of the gate against Long Island. They eventually pulled away for a 104-84 victory, but it wasn’t a pretty result in a game Haskins felt should have been out of hand early.
Still, players didn’t think he’d follow through on his threat. They had won, after all, by 20 points.
“So we all thought, no way is he actually going to make us run 30-something,” James said. “And then we get to practice the next day and there are no ball racks on the court.”
They looked around confused before Haskins emerged with a whistle around his neck, still upset about the defensive performance the night before.
“Coach was like, ‘Hold up, you thought I was playing? Everybody on the line,’” Thomas said. “Literally the entire practice, that’s all we did.”
The message was clear.
“There should be a time when we can move on and at least acknowledge the success … that our teams had at the U,” Trevor Winter (left) says, “even if there’s no denying that mistakes were made.” (Brian Bahr / Getty Images)
In the early 1990s, there were few restrictions as to how long a coach could keep his team on the court. Those rules changed before 1997, ending Haskins’ marathon practice sessions and yielding a few quips from the coach after poor performances.
“I remember how upset Clem would be sometimes saying if the rules hadn’t changed, if they let me practice you, I’d have you on the court right now,” said Trevor Winter, the team’s center. “And he was not lying.”
Even still, the practices were a grind. The Gophers were a physical team in games and even more physical in practices where fouls were seldom called.
“We used to look forward to games because they were easier,” Winter said.
Inevitably at the end of each practice, there was a player or two who had been on the receiving end of a scolding from Haskins. No one was immune.
“He gets a lot of love now, but when you were in the trenches, you hated him because he was so raw and honest,” Harris said. “He wasn’t afraid. But once you saw him keep that disposition with everybody, you had to respect it. It was hard to hear at times whether it was in the film room or in practice, but we respected it.”
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The practice sessions often yielded some difficult-to-have conversations that players dreaded.
“But I needed discipline and structure and he provided that for me,” Jackson said. “Did I like it? No. I don’t think anybody liked it, but it made us stronger as young men and taught us how to deal with adversity. He taught us how to be professional at the college level. It was tough coaching, but I needed it.”
The grind extended beyond the court too. The players learned early that Haskins had people around Dinkytown tipping him off if any players had late nights at the local watering holes, which always led to lengthy runs the next day. So they decided they’d game Haskins’ system with a trip to Mystic Lake Casino in Prior Lake. Surely, they thought, we can have fun down there without repercussions.
The next day at practice, Haskins asked his players how the night before was, then pressed for more information, waiting for someone to fess up.
“I don’t know to this day how he got all the reports about guys going to the casino, but he would always find out,” Harris said.
On Selection Sunday, the Gophers watched the bracket unveiling together at Williams Arena. They were worried a loss to Wisconsin in the final game of the season might keep them from a top seed, so they arrived with low expectations. When the bracket was revealed and had the Gophers as a No. 1, the room erupted.
“It was definitely surreal,” Thomas said.
The Gophers cruised by 16th-seeded Southwest Texas State in the opening round and beat No. 9 seed Temple by 19 points to advance to Haskins’ first Sweet Sixteen since the Elite Eight performance of the 1990 team.
But there, a contest loomed against No. 4 seed Clemson, one of the only teams that could match the Gophers’ size and strength. For all of regulation and two overtime sessions, the teams traded blows in the paint.
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“It was a bloodbath,” said Winter, the Gophers’ 7-footer.
But the mix of Jackson, the Big Ten Player of the Year, and Sam Jacobson lifted the Gophers to a win in double overtime. Jackson scored a career-high 36 points. Jacobson had 29.
“Bobby and Sam just took over the game,” James said. “They pretty much carried us to victory.”
A less dramatic win over No. 2 seed UCLA followed in the Elite Eight. In a gray suit, Haskins climbed an old steel ladder and cut the remaining pieces of the net, holding proudly proof of his first Final Four trip.
“It’s something you dream about,” Harris said. “And it came to fruition for all of us.”
The Gophers lost in the Final Four to Kentucky, Haskins’ home-state school. For years, members of the team didn’t talk about the game. Four went on to the NBA. Others moved into professional life around the Twin Cities.
Thomas used to watch every game after it was played to study what he could do better. But it took 10 years before he watched again that loss to Kentucky.
“I just didn’t want to re-live it,” Thomas said.
Jackson now works in the NBA with the Sacramento Kings as a player development coach, meaning he talks frequently with young pros about their college days. During one chat, Jackson said, an NBA player told him he was getting paid “5-10 grand a month,” to play college basketball. Jackson couldn’t believe it.
“He wasn’t even the best player on his team,” Jackson said. “I’m like, well, I wasn’t getting shit and I was the Big Ten Player of the Year and Defensive Player of the Year. And I wasn’t getting any money.”
It all leads to a complicated legacy for the 1997 team and Haskins. The wrongdoings are undeniable, even if they occurred in a sport with a corruption problem that’s been deemed so serious the FBI is investigating. But just because worse offenses have occurred doesn’t mean the Gophers are exonerated of misdoings, yielding difficult questions about who should be held accountable and for how long.
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“At the end of the day, that’s all on the players,” Jackson said. “(Haskins) didn’t write our papers, he just coached us. At some point, they have to move on and allow this man to be a part of something great. Allow people to get over that history. I’m not proud of what I participated in. But I was a young college student. You tell me what young college student at that time did everything right and didn’t make mistakes? The biggest thing is just learn from those mistakes. But I don’t think (Haskins) should still be punished.”
The questions many Gophers fans grapple with surround whether the punishment for the 1997 team matches what’s been handed elsewhere for similar improprieties. And in the wake of an ongoing pay-for-play scandal in the sport, there’s a feeling from some that those Gophers have served their punishment and should, if nothing else, be able to get a nod for their basketball achievements.
“Were there things that were done wrong? Absolutely,” Winter said. “And is it fair to say, ‘Well, if other people are doing it, then it’s OK if we did it?’ No, that’s no excuse. But I just feel like, not to go to cliché on it, but time heals those kinds of wounds. And I feel like there should be a time when we can move on and at least acknowledge the success that he had and the success that our teams had at the U, even if there’s no denying that mistakes were made.”
Haskins declined comment for this story. But through interviews with his former players, it’s clear he’s still hurt over a lack of recognition from the school. He never coached again after resigning from Minnesota. He lives on a farm in Kentucky with his wife Yevette.
“The university and the NCAA are in a difficult position because they think to honor Clem would be an admission that it’s OK rather than addressing potential solutions,” Thomas said. “So I understand the position. But you can’t take away what he meant to us.”
Jackson still speaks occasionally with the coach he credits for grooming him into the man he is today and is saddened by the pain that still exists. But for a program that went through middling years after Haskins, Jackson feels like it’s an unintended showcase of Haskins’ coaching ability. No Gophers team has lost fewer than 10 games since that 31-4 season, and the program has just two NCAA Tournament wins in the more than two decades since.
“When was the last time Minnesota went to the Final Four? When was the last time they won a Big Ten championship? Twenty-two years ago,” Jackson said, referring to his 1997 team. “You get what I’m saying? It’s 2019. That was 22 years ago. It’s amazing that the team hasn’t been close since, but it also says how special we were as a team with what we accomplished because of how close we were.
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“We all still love (Haskins) and respect him. He’s human. It hurt him because he was a part of something special and the NCAA doesn’t want to acknowledge that he was a part of something special. Or us. It’s still tough on all of us.”
But each year as the Final Four begins anew, as it does this week in Minneapolis, players from that 1997 team send a few messages to get caught up. It used to be on email. Now they chat over text and reflect on the fun stories of that team since there are few tangible reminders that the 1997 Gophers existed. They’ve all been stripped or hidden or denied.
“But,” Winter said, “you can’t deny the memories.”
(Top photo: Stephen Dunn / Allsport / via Getty Images)
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