The unique, unifying quality of sports
Before three-point shots and slam dunks, a basketball game was played in Kentucky between the West Virginia University Mountaineers and Adolph Rupp’s Kentucky Wildcats.
Back then, in the late 1950s, Kentucky was the center of the college basketball world. Rupp was a celebrated coach, a wizard of the hardwood. Rupp’s teams were practically unbeatable on their home court.
The long and short of it is that the upstart Mountaineers beat Kentucky. (At the end of the game, Rupp reportedly told WVU All-American Jerry West, “Young man, you are the greatest basketball player I’ve ever seen.”)
Flying back to Morgantown later that night, the victors probably did not know what was in store for them once they landed. West and his teammates might have expected an empty tarmac followed by an undisturbed walk through a deserted airport terminal to the team bus.
Surprise! There were jubilant, happy West Virginians everywhere. The outpouring was spontaneous, an improvised celebration by an overjoyed fan base. The players were embraced, swarmed over, loved.
Why bring this up, an occurrence so far in the past that few people alive then are around today? Because it speaks to something that goes on today after each home victory by the WVU women basketballers, an iteration of the 1959 event in which the love and joy and respect is even more of a two-way street.
I’ve been attending Mountaineer women’s games for seven or eight years now. I began because it gave me something to do in my early widowhood. Ticket prices were reasonable. Parking was free, and unencumbered by traffic jams. Finding a seat in the Coliseum has never been a problem.
In short, the games were entertaining and free of the hassle and cost of attending the men’s games.
In the days since, I’ve become a real fan. I sweat it out when the Mountaineers fall behind, and despair should they lose. I relax and enjoy the spectacle of an easy win.
(This year’s home schedule has provided both kinds of contests. The game against a top-ranked club, TCU, resulted in a 51-50 loss, on a last second three-pointer by a sharp-shooting Horned Frog. Last week, the WVU women rolled over Cincinnati on the strength of a 118-point outburst, their highest point total in decades.)
The Cincinnati game, the 24th win of the season for the Mountaineers against six losses, took a little over 90 minutes to complete. The post-game revelries lasted nearly an hour.
Now, I’m not sure when the celebratory ritual I have in mind started. Maybe three years ago with the arrival of Mark Kellogg from coaching stints in Texas. Then again, maybe not. Maybe it began so low key that I didn’t notice it at first.
The practice consists of the players – the whole squad – walking the perimeter of the court and greeting fans who position themselves in front of the first rows of seats.
There are high-fives; there are autographs scribbled on basketballs brought to the games for that purpose, on basketball jerseys, on scraps of paper, and even on body parts.
Hugs are exchanged while selfies seem to be the coin of the realm.
And not only do little girls and boys get in on the action. Grandmothers, grandfathers, middle-aged men and women, all wait their turn with the players. At the last home game of 2025-2026, even members of the WVU pep band and dance team jumped in line.
As for the players, they all give the appearance of enjoying themselves. Here’s hoping they feel that being part of this communal experience is a reward almost as good as a win itself.
Last season, everyone wanted face-time with All-American JJ Quinerly. This year it’s been star guard Jordan Harrison, who noted after the Cincinnati game that the fans were so thick that “it took a while to get past our bench” area.
Harrison is a native of Oklahoma, Quinerly hails from Virginia. Both are African-American.
I watch from the stands, fascinated. In a day marked by deep divisions, this practice refutes the notion, in a small way at least, that we are doomed to go our separate ways. Hooray for the unifying power of sports.
Richard Robbins lives in Uniontown. He can be reached at dick.l.robbins@gmail.