BRYAN ADRIAN
- Splinter Faction
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Good article, but enigmatic. Obviously, many unanswered questions, and probably inevitably so.
"I try to represent the un-sloppy way as much as I can." (Coach)
"Whatever is preserved grows enigmatic; time, and the pressures of interpretation . . . will see to that." (Frank Kermode)
"as allways, immage is everything" (graveline)
"Whatever is preserved grows enigmatic; time, and the pressures of interpretation . . . will see to that." (Frank Kermode)
"as allways, immage is everything" (graveline)
MikeMaloy15 wrote:I'm really glad the article was written, because it's wrong (and perhaps a personal failing on wftc's and my part) that knowledgeable Davidson fans* did not know who Bryan Adrian was.
* The one-time Martin Ides thing aside, 94 is definitely a knowledgeable fan of Wildcat hoop.
I heard a rumor that Martin Ides is coming to my office to remove my diploma from my wall.Reed '74 wrote:And 94cat says he was a history major!
"Tyreke Evans ... WON'T be the best player from his class. Such an honor applies to another gem playing in northern California -- Stephen Curry. "
Martin could probably take the wall with it ... so loosen the hanging nails a little.94cat wrote:MikeMaloy15 wrote:I'm really glad the article was written, because it's wrong (and perhaps a personal failing on wftc's and my part) that knowledgeable Davidson fans* did not know who Bryan Adrian was.
* The one-time Martin Ides thing aside, 94 is definitely a knowledgeable fan of Wildcat hoop.I heard a rumor that Martin Ides is coming to my office to remove my diploma from my wall.Reed '74 wrote:And 94cat says he was a history major!
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Even in death, I feel Bryan deserves some privacy. But there are some questions that don't seem too prying.Splinter Faction wrote:Good article, but enigmatic. Obviously, many unanswered questions, and probably inevitably so.
How did he wind up back in Davidson, and with Bo?
Do Board members of that era have recollections they can share? stan? CA? MM15?
Did Bob know Bryan from NY? from his assistant coaching stint at Ol' DU?
I posed this theory last month, but don't recall comment. There were partially remembered memories of Mike Maloy being a champion chess player. It now seems likely that label was applied to the wrong New York Davidson basketball player of the late '60s.
Conor Bree
~Tip well.
~Tip well.
- Steve Rodgers
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I think I may have posted this previously but my one contact with Bryan was while I was playing in Johnston Gym the fall of my Freshman year. Bryan walked out of Holland's office and across the balcony (towards Duke for you old timers who remember the place). I checked him out because he was such a legend and there was hope he would play again and rejoin the team. He looked awful, stringy dirty hair, dirty jeans and an army jacket. Subsequently Terry informed us that he wouldn't be coming back to school. It was unclear why. Grades , drugs, mental issues and injury were discussed among the student body. Further affiant sayeth naught.
Last edited by Steve Rodgers on Mon May 10, 2010 8:03 pm, edited 1 time in total.
When I was a freshman in 69-70, I discovered a sanctuary late at night high in the rafters of Johnston Gym . It could be a decent place to catch up on some reading when my carrel among the stacks in the old library became unbearable, as it sometimes did. On more than a few occasions, as I climbed toward my destination and even before I entered the arena itself, I could hear the distinctive sounds of Bryan Adrian pounding the ball against the floor. No other basketball sounds quite like them. Sure enough, when the dribbler came into view in the dim light, it was Bryan all by himself. It was difficult to pay too much attention to what I was supposed to be reading because Bryan's solitary presence and dedication was so captivating. Everything about his appearance and style was unorthodox, and yet so precise and disciplined. High arching pounding dribbles, executed with so much force that it seemed more an isometric exercise, followed a second later by hundreds and hundreds of the softest ones, as he pivoted and whirled. Routine after routine, where it seemed that the contest was to see how close he could match his deft footwork to the sidelines while dribbling with both hands in every direction and without ever once touching the line. I can tell you, this could go on and on for an hour and a half or more, and it seemed he would hardly ever take a shot. When he did toss it up, it would almost never touch the rim. Johnston Gym at such moments was so quiet, it was like standing on the rim of the Grand Canyon, and when one of his rare shots ripped through the net, there were echoes through the rafters. To this day I have felt as though I was eavesdropping through the window of Van Gogh's humble studio while the strange and lonely artist was rendering sketches for his next masterpiece.
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- Steve Rodgers
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I can't top Prophet, but here's my take.
Bryan was a truly unique talent. Couldn't run. Couldn't jump. All he could do was score, in the most unorthodox ways. Spin moves like Earl Monroe. A jump hook that I have tried to copy my whole life, but his was indescribable. Never seen before or since. I'd forgotten the pounding high dribbles, but they were there. Great free throw shooter. Great flatfooted mid-range shot. The fastest hands you ever saw. And he shuffled on and off the court slowly, like a gunslinger.
The knee injury was bad. I remember him playing with his leg taped from ankle to thigh, with no bend in the knee at all. There were rumors that the rehab was botched.
Like C.A., the last time I saw him walk across campus, he had grass clippings in his hair and a dazed look, alone, lonely, walking with a limp.
He was incandescent and unforgettable.
Bryan was a truly unique talent. Couldn't run. Couldn't jump. All he could do was score, in the most unorthodox ways. Spin moves like Earl Monroe. A jump hook that I have tried to copy my whole life, but his was indescribable. Never seen before or since. I'd forgotten the pounding high dribbles, but they were there. Great free throw shooter. Great flatfooted mid-range shot. The fastest hands you ever saw. And he shuffled on and off the court slowly, like a gunslinger.
The knee injury was bad. I remember him playing with his leg taped from ankle to thigh, with no bend in the knee at all. There were rumors that the rehab was botched.
Like C.A., the last time I saw him walk across campus, he had grass clippings in his hair and a dazed look, alone, lonely, walking with a limp.
He was incandescent and unforgettable.
While I can't come close to matching Prophet's eloquence, I'll put in my two cents worth. I was a senior Bryan's freshman year. I didn't know him personally, but he was known around campus as the stud freshman basketball player. Even then, he was a loner who stayed in his room a lot. He was said to suffer from severe migrane headaches. When you saw him on campus, he was in jeans and a fatigue jacket.
Mene Mene Tekel Upharsin
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I'm thankful to Prophet, Jersey, and WC for those compelling recollections. The human personality is such a mystery, and when a person, particularly a very gifted person, is willing to go through life seemingly without a need to explain himself in any way, it tends to get our attention and vex us.
"I try to represent the un-sloppy way as much as I can." (Coach)
"Whatever is preserved grows enigmatic; time, and the pressures of interpretation . . . will see to that." (Frank Kermode)
"as allways, immage is everything" (graveline)
"Whatever is preserved grows enigmatic; time, and the pressures of interpretation . . . will see to that." (Frank Kermode)
"as allways, immage is everything" (graveline)
Thank you, Prophet.
I only saw Bryan a couple of times in passing on campus when he would make acknowlegement of my "hi" with a brief, polite smile and nod while returning his eyes to the path.
Hours of solitude with a basketball in hand is probably a common experience for many of us who love the game. Not loneliness ... just private time for dreams and attempts at mastery of the game. Bryan's skills and the drills Prophet witnessed were in another dimension however.
I only saw Bryan a couple of times in passing on campus when he would make acknowlegement of my "hi" with a brief, polite smile and nod while returning his eyes to the path.
Hours of solitude with a basketball in hand is probably a common experience for many of us who love the game. Not loneliness ... just private time for dreams and attempts at mastery of the game. Bryan's skills and the drills Prophet witnessed were in another dimension however.