I finally got around to seeing Glory Road, a recent movie that revolves around a little known basketball team from Texas Western College (now the University of Texas El Paso) and their struggles to make a name for themselves in the 1960s.

The movie encompasses one year – the initial season of head man Don Haskins, whose previous coaching experience involved leading a girl’s basketball team at the high school level.

Haskins, who was married with two small children at the time, actually took a pay-cut to accept the job.

The job description did not list any money for recruiting and required Haskins and his family to actually live in one of the dorms as part of some type of leadership program.

Haskins went on to well deserved Hall of Fame recognition as one of the great coaches of all-time, albeit it took a while for him to gain admittance.

The focal point of the movie was Haskins’ decision to bring in seven African-American players in his first year at the helm. To say it created a storm of protest is putting it generously.

But Haskins stood tall and their unbelievable road to the finals is a must-see for anyone who loves hoops.

Since I have been an associate member of the National Association of Basketball Coaches for 43 years, I know I must have attended the final game versus Kentucky.

The date was March 19, 1966 at the Cole Field House on the campus of the University of Maryland. But I still do not remember much about the game and I was certain I was there.

Texas Western won of course, 72-65, but strangely enough, Kentucky was chosen as the top college team in the country by both press associations – the Associated Press and the United Press.

I remember that they still played a game for third place in those days.

Texas Western beat Utah and Kentucky beat Duke in the semi-finals and then Duke must have defeated Utah for third place.

The reason for the column revolves around one of the players on the Texas Western squad, a 6-7 250-pound behemoth named David (Big Daddy) Lattin.

Five years after Texas Western won the NCAA crown, I was in Pittsburgh attempting to restore an American Basketball League franchise that was floundering.

I did my part in hurrying along that prospect.

I had joined the Steeltown franchise in June of 1970 after seventeen years with the Atlanta Hawks, fourteen of which were played in St. Louis under the same banner.

We were a huge success in St. Louis, winning the NBA title in 1958 by beating the Boston Celtics in the final series, four games to two, which earned us the distinction of being one of the few teams ever to dethrone the Celts during the heyday of Red Auerbach, Bill Russell and company.

Our record was second only to the aforementioned Celtics from 1956-1970, the final two seasons being played in Atlanta, their new home.

I had left the Hawks in 1970 to become President of the Pittsburgh team then known as the Pipers.

The team had played there once before moving to Minnesota and returned in 1969.

A five-year contract and part ownership in the team helped me decide to take a new group’s offer – especially since they assured me a merger with the NBA was “just around the corner.”

“You can see the merger coming,” they said.

Prophets they were not as I found out several months later.

The new owners, a New Jersey conglomerate named Haven Industries allowed me to run the team out of an Atlantic office for several months before moving to Pittsburgh.

My first move was to hire veteran NBA coach Jack McMahon to lead the team (still known as the Pipers). Mac had been a member of our NBA title team (in 1958) and had served as an assistant coach for us and as a head man at San Diego.

I had intended to immediately change the name of the team, but when an initial public contest to do just that went haywire, I called an old friend, Pepper Wilson, a former GM of the Cincinnati Royals who had some connection with the Cincinnati Zoo, and asked him to check around and see if he could come up with some new name.

A few days before my call to Pepper, the new owners advised me that the merger between the two leagues had “fallen through.”

So much for my 10 percent ownership.

“I would like the name of a bird or animal that is ferocious looking,” I explained. “And one that is virtually extinct.”

“It, he or she should exemplify our outlook,” I remarked.

Grim was a good word to describe our situation.

Wilson came up with the name of a bird to fit both descriptions – a California-based creature called the condor, of which only seven were reported still around.

The wonderful cartoonist of the Pittsburgh Press – Bill Weinstein – created a marvelous drawing of a fighting bird that caused delight among our too few fans.

We did improve our team’s record from the previous season and our attendance jumped well beyond our predictions helped, no doubt, by a crowd of nearly 10,000 fans who took advantage of my generous offer of free tickets for their family and friends.

Unfortunately, that night while we were on a winning streak, we hosted the Virginia Squires, a team led by the Doctor of Dunk, Julius Erving, and an assembly of fabled ABA All-Stars.

I won’t bore you with the final score.

But back to Big Daddy.

I had to redo the Pittsburgh roster adding new players virtually every four days until I had a cohesive unit that was moving up the win ladder.

It featured one of the ABA’s most feared basketeers, a 6-5 225-pound ex-boxer named John Brisker. He was the man and when he drove the lane, most teams just said “be our guest.”

He could play three positions and for a time, led the league in points per game and rebounding. Tough as nails, he could shoot the three and was nasty – make that really nasty – most of the time.

Our small forward, Stew Johnson, was a Pittsburgh area favorite who played college ball at Murray State, a Tennessee school known then and now for producing “sleepers.”

After one such lethargic outing, I told him I was going to release him “if he didn’t show something the next game.”

I was out of town the next home game scouting of all people, Wally Szczerbiak Sr., then a senior at George Washington University, in a game played down the road at Morgantown versus West Virginia University.

I called home after the collegiate game and was advised that Johnson had just scored 61 points.

It was that kind of year. We could score points but we needed a big man.

Enter Big Daddy.

After his senior year at Texas Western, David had been a draft pick of the San Francisco Warriors in 1968. He played there during the 1968-69 season and then played the next season at Phoenix.

I found out he was suddenly available.

He became the solutions to all my problems. Or so I thought.

The big man became our enforcer. He was more like 6-6 than 6-7, but he played much bigger. He was not a great shooter but he was a terrific defender and board man. He could run the court and his heart was as big as the state of Texas.

He has a smile nine miles wide and he became a local hero.

“Come see Big Daddy tear it up,” we advertised.

He was the short big man going against really big guys like Artis Gilmore and Mel Daniels and more than holding his own.

His spirit affected our team and we went on a win streak that saw us move into third place in our league.

He developed a jump shot from the top of the key which surprisingly went in more times than naught and he always followed his misses by crashing the boards.

Attendance rose from sparse crowds of a year ago to credible amounts, but the suits at Haven wanted to cut their losses.

“Cut expenses,” they cried. “Sell some players,” I was told.

I reminded them of the specifics of my contract. They could not interfere with my handling of their franchise in all matters.

They could fire me, yes.

They could question me. But they could not instruct me in any way regarding the operation of the Condors.

Fortunately for me, in late January of 1971, they did just that, buying out the remaining four years of my contract.

The team lived for another year then folded quickly as most of the good players I had brought in (especially Brisker who joined the Seattle Sonics of the NBA) jumped ship.

Which brings us back to the movie.

In the championship game versus Kentucky, Lattin and Bobby Joe Hill were the stars of that win.

Hoskins started five African Americans against the Wildcats – Harry Flournoy, Orsten Artis, Willie Worsley, Hill and Lattin.

A sixth, Willie Cager, who missed part of the season, quickly was inserted when Worsley was injured and a seventh, Nevil Shed, also saw action.

Hill scored 20 points but Lattin might have been the key.

He had 9 rebounds, connected on 5-of-10 field goal attempts, was 6-6 from the line and managed to play most of the final minutes of the game hampered by four fouls.

Pat Riley, now the president of the Miami Heat, was a member of that Kentucky team alongside future professionals Louie Dampier, Tommy Kron and Larry Conley.

Dampier and Riley each scored 19 markers for the Wildcats.

Maybe I was at the game because I know I drafted Tommy Kron that same year – or shortly after – in the third round.

The leading scorer in the Final Four two-game set that year was soon-to-be NBA guard Jerry Chambers of Utah, who scored 70 in two games.

Jon Voight, a remarkable actor, plays the baron, Adolph Rupp, in a true-to-life portrait of one of the great coaches of modern day basketball. Surprisingly, he has Rupp down pat.

I got to know Mr. Rupp – both during his stay at Kentucky and afterwards – but that’s meat for another column.

Go see Glory Road. Like Sonny Vaccaro said in a recent Basketball Times article, the movie was a sign of progress.

It had an impact felt around the world. Maybe we just didn’t know it then.

Better yet, do what I did – buy the DVD and add it to your collection which should include Hoosiers and the wonderful Blue Chips, the most expensive basketball movie ever made.

But again, that’s for another day.