Tomorrow, hard to believe, marks the 50th anniversary of one of the most memorable college basketball games of my lifetime, the 1971 NCAA Championship game at Houston's Astrodome between my underdog hometown Villanova Wildcats and the dynastic UCLA Bruins of John Wooden, who were in the midst of winning championships for 7 straight years and 10 of 12. The 'Cats were only the seventh Philadelphia Big 5 team to make the Final Four, and were attempting to be only the second, after Tom Gola's 1954 LaSalle Explorers, to win the championship (see my post about the Big Five and the Final Four written in 2013, before Villanova shockingly won two titles in the space of three years in 2016 and 2018).
Villanova's success in 1971 was not totally surprising. Led by 3-time All-Big 5 player and 2nd Team All America forward Howard Porter, what they lacked in depth they made up for with an estimable, iron man starting five that also included front court stars Hank Siemiontkowski and Clarence Smith, and future NBA backcourt players Chris Ford and Tom Inglesby. And they did what UCLA couldn't: on February 11, they defeated Notre Dame, 99-81, at the Villanova Field House (cheekily dubbed the "Cat House" by most Philadelphians). But when they lost their next game, the aforementioned 73-69 City Series thriller against LaSalle at the Palestra, they stood at 15-6 and dropped out of the national Top 20. It was to be their last loss of the season prior to March 27.
After defeating Boston College, 90-77, on March 2 to end the season at 20-6, they snuck into the 25-team NCAA tourney and were put in the East Regional. Their first game was played at the Palestra against their city and "Holy War" arch-rivals, the Jesuit St. Joseph's Hawks. Led by Porter's 26 points and 18 rebounds, the Main Line's Augustinian Wildcats easily dispatched the Hawks, 93-75, with Siemiontkowki adding 23 points and Inglesby 20 to offset Hawks' star Mike Bantom's 20. At this point the going would ostensibly get tougher. They would next play 26-2, 9th-ranked Fordham at Reynolds Auditorium in Raleigh. But, with Porter scoring 25 to lead all five starters in double figures, the Rams proved no more difficult, as the 'Cats moved out to an 11-point halftime lead and coasted to an 85-75 triumph.
This led to the East Regional Final and a rematch with Penn, who had upped their record to 28-0 by defeating Duquesne and blowing out 6th-ranked South Carolina in the tourney's first two rounds. What ensued was the most shocking game I have ever watched (and that includes the Eagles' victory over the Patriots in Super Bowl LII). The 'Cats opened up a 41-16 lead in the first half before expanding it to 59-22 in the second, ultimately coasting to a 90-47 blowout. Porter exploded for 35 points and 15 rebounds, Siemiontkowski added 20 and Smith 15, while no Quaker even reached double figures. It was the single greatest team performance I have ever witnessed in college basketball, with the possible exception of Villanova's 1985 championship game victory over Patrick Ewing's Georgetown Hoyas.
In the semi-finals, Villanova would face Jim McDaniels and 7th-ranked Western Kentucky. Despite the Hilltoppers attempting 32 more shots and grabbing 11 more rebounds than the 'Cats, Villanova prevailed, 92-89, in double overtime, as Siemiontkowski played the greatest game of his career, scoring 31 points and grabbing 15 rebounds, while Porter added 22 and 16. This put Villanova in the final against UCLA.
By this point, my youthful enthusiasm for my hometown team reached a point hitherto reserved for Jack Ramsey's great St. Joe's teams of '65 and '66, both of whom ultimately let me down in the tourney. I truly believed, after the Penn game and the nail-biter against Western Kentucky, that they would prevail. Sure, Sidney Wickes was the consensus player of the year, but he was no Alcindor! But, as seemed inevitable to a young Philadelphia sports fan disappointed by the Hawks of '65-'66, not to mention one whose first season of following the Phillies was the ill-fated 1964, things immediately didn't go as I had hoped. Wooden's teams were always prepared, and they were prepared, as almost all others were not, for Jack Kraft's famous 2-3 zone defense. Indeed, the Bruins' two best players, Rowe and Wickes, were held to a combined (!) 15 points, but UCLA couldn't seem to miss―they shot 55% from the field for the game―and nobody was prepared for the career-best performance of center Steve Patterson, a 13-a-game scorer who exploded for 29 on 13-18 shooting. Meanwhile, nobody for Villanova save for Porter and Siemiontkowski could hit the broad side of a barn. When UCLA opened up a 45-37 halftime lead, my hopes had dwindled considerably.
But then Wooden made what, though it appeared to be a sound decision on paper, turned out to be a mistake. For the second half, Wooden made the decision to stall, going to a four corner offense (remember, these were the days before a shot clock) in order to force 'Nova out of their zone into a man-to-man. But this backfired, as Porter et al. showed themselves more athletic than the Bruins. The 'Cats steadily-but-slowly whittled away at the lead, until they came within three, 63-60, with a minute to play. Alas, Porter missed a 15-foot jumper and UCLA escaped with a 68-62 win and their 5th straight championship. Porter, however, who scored 25 in this, his last game, went away with the Most Outstanding Player trophy for the tournament.
But even this was not to be. Rumors had circulated for a couple of months that Porter had signed a contract with the Pittsburgh Condors of the ABA, which would, if true, have made him ineligible. When the Chicago Bulls of the NBA drafted him, the Condors objected, and the agreement he had signed with the Condors in December was made public. As a result, he was stripped of his Most Outstanding Player award and Villanova was forced to forfeit all their games dating back to December 16, 1970. Hence both the award and the runner-up slot for the tourney are officially "vacated" in the record books. But all of us who watched the game, let alone those of us with an emotional investment in the team, will never forget what happened on the court that day in the Astrodome.
Porter, it seems to me, having watched the Big 5 for 56 years, remains the 5th-best player I ever saw play in the unofficial association, behind only the aforementioned Durrett, LaSalle's Lionel Simmons, St. Joe's Jameer Nelson, and Villanova's Kyle Lowry. And this is out of dozens who eventually played in the NBA. Porter himself, though never achieving the stardom anticipated for him because of an inability fully to transform himself from a back-to-the basket post player to NBA small forward, nevertheless played seven years in the league, three times averaging more than 10 points a game. His best season came with Detroit in 1976-77, when he averaged 13.2 points and 5.9 rebounds. One thing that never left him was his beautiful rainbow jumper, which he learned from reading a book by NBA legend Oscar Robertson.
Villanova, of course, has now made it to the Sweet Sixteen in its 31st trip to the tournament in the ensuing 50 years. Nine times it has reached the Regional Finals, has made the Final Four four times, and won the National Championship in 1985, 2016, and 2018. This record is nothing short of astonishing for a smallish Catholic University with only a D-2 football program. Porter, meanwhile, struggled mightily after the end of his playing days, despite having graduated on time with his degree back in 1971. He had problems with cocaine, and ended up sleeping at his mother's house while managing a 7-11 store in Sarasota, Florida. Eventually, he seemed to manage to escape his problems, moving to Minneapolis―in his words, he was the only person in America who ever moved from Florida to Minnesota!―and becoming a probation officer. However, on the night of May 18, 2007, Porter called on a prostitute in St. Paul, who led him to an apartment in which two men were waiting to rob him. After assaulting him, they dumped him in a Minneapolis alleyway, where he was discovered the next day and died a week later at the age of 58. This was a sad, sobering end to the life of one of my favorite players. But my memory still recalls vividly his exploits of 50 years ago, and that sweet jumper of his swishing through the net.
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