A reaffirmed love of the game made this year a lucky No. 13

Shaheen Holloway and Saint Peter’s address fans during Jersey City parade for Peacocks, which ended this site’s 13th year of coverage. (Photo by Jaden Daly/Daly Dose Of Hoops)

Triskaidekaphobia.

Webster’s dictionary defines it as fear of the number thirteen. If you were a fan of any team that played Seton Hall in recent years, chances are you may have experienced it when having to go up against Myles Powell. Personally, idolizing Dan Marino as a little boy made me embrace No. 13 in all its forms, so I never had to worry about that superstition.

What I did fear, though, especially when covering this now-concluded season, was that I would lose my passion and the desire to share my experiences with all of you. After a year of watching games on a living room television, you would think that to be impossible considering fans were back in the stands and media was back courtside, right? Well, easier said than done.

When I created this outlet on this day in 2009, I wanted to pour the love and energy I had for broadcasting college basketball into my writing, and would only stop if it got to be a chore and the passion some of you have complimented me on started to fade away. I also try to be as transparent and straightforward with you as possible, because without your readership and support, I would have no reason to do what I do, so I’ll break the fourth wall again and tell you that there was a stretch midway through the year — when the travel started to become too much, the frustration over what I felt was underachieving based on total page views — that I asked myself if it was really worth it. Only two other people, my mother and Josh Adams of our sister site, College Hoops Digest, knew that I was thinking about calling it quits after the last note of One Shining Moment.

Then, March validated my purpose, my commitment, my reason for more often than not being the only one on press row in MAAC gyms. One of those familiar haunts was my office on the first day of the month everyone in this game lives for. Fittingly, two innocuous postgame quotes — one from each coach I covered that night — ended up being the ignition for a magic carpet ride none of us will soon forget.

“I always know what we’re capable of, know what we can do, know how to put the recipe together.”

Steve Masiello said those exact words to me on March 1 after his Manhattan team was routed off its own floor. I’ll get to the winner of that game soon, but the aforementioned quote came after I had asked the longtime Jasper coach how strong his confidence was in his players delivering in a must-win situation entering the MAAC tournament. I was admittedly more critical of Masiello this season than I ever have been in his 11-year tenure, a run I’ve seen probably closer than any of my print or broadcast contemporaries. And while it hurt me in a way to doubt someone I hold in very high regard, it was business at the end of the day. The hardest column I’ve ever had to write was the one in 2015 that said Fordham would be better off moving on from Tom Pecora. That, too, was business. And although he didn’t know it at the time, Masiello’s words in the wake of a 22-point loss proved to be prophetic in that I, too, would find a way to rise to the occasion when the chips were down. I just wasn’t sure how I’d get there.

“You know what, J? We understand this time of year, what it’s about. We’re not worried about seeds, we’re just worried about playing well.”

Across the Draddy Gymnasium concourse and down a slight ramp leading to the visitors’ locker room, Shaheen Holloway attributed Saint Peter’s stifling 73-51 victory over Manhattan to a businesslike tenor set by a blue-collar outfit that, as the world would soon find out, embodied his own personality on and off the floor. Don’t get too high, don’t get too low, Sha often reminds everyone. It’s not about style points, but rather, about simply showing up and tackling that which lies in front of you.

And so that was the mindset in the most arduous stretch of college basketball travel on my schedule since the Providence-Brooklyn up-and-back NCAA Tournament trips in 2016. Washington, D.C., Atlantic City via Philadelphia, Brooklyn, Manhattan, back to Brooklyn, and then back down to Atlantic City with a Philadelphia detour before touching down at home, all in the span of seven days. For those who have followed my exploits long enough, you know I don’t drive, and therefore make my way around from one gym to the next by means of mass transit and car services. The logistics are never an issue. The fatigue that mounted more than ever this year, knowing that the mileage on my soon-to-be 36-year-old tires was far greater than it was in my prime, made me more sleep-deprived. But excuses, as Rick Pitino so often says, are a sign of weakness. This is business, and I systematically handled all of it. 

Speaking of Pitino, his Iona team’s loss to Rider in the MAAC tournament quarterfinals was the opening of the floodgates, so to speak. It had been seven years since someone not wearing maroon and gold had accepted a trophy from Rich Ensor. The concept of fresh blood on a championship stage became a reality after Dwight Murray’s runner in the lane splashed through the net and left Kevin Baggett vindicated after a decade of not reaching the semifinals. And after interludes with Mike Krzyzewski — for the last time — and Jim Boeheim, followed by a St. John’s meltdown, Seton Hall no-show and North Carolina cold spell, I had the opening to find myself again.

“In a New York minute, everything can change.” — Don Henley

Saint Peter’s and Monmouth tip off MAAC championship game that was somewhat unexpected after Iona was upset by Rider in quarterfinals. (Photo by Bob Dea/Daly Dose Of Hoops)

The MAAC championship game between Saint Peter’s and Monmouth was living proof. Either Saint Peter’s, a MAAC program with no consistent media coverage outside of this site and its own athletic department, would break through and allow me to share a story very few outside of New Jersey had or wanted access to; or Monmouth, on the doorstep three times before, would finally break through and afford a great program with an awesome group of people in and around it the chance to get the March payoff that not only eluded the Hawks, but was cruelly snatched so the NCAA could make money off Syracuse instead. No, I’m not bitter, not in the least. And neither are the Monmouth fans who I’m proud to call my favorite community in all my years doing this. I’ll miss those guys in the MAAC, but we’ll enjoy the CAA together.

As for the conference title game, Saint Peter’s suffocated the life out of Monmouth and Doug Edert baptized himself to the nation on a smaller scale than his eventual breakout five days later. But the biggest and most resonant nerve was struck in how the Peacocks’ leader ignored the skeptics and marched to the beat of his own drummer, did what he felt was right four years ago, two decades ago as a player, every day of his life.

“Sometimes you gotta believe in yourself, bet on yourself. And that’s what I did. Every place I’ve been, that’s what I did.”

As Saint Peter’s was headed dancing, I was seeing a vision myself in Shaheen Holloway and the path he carved out. Looking back, I had written for and been recruited by other outlets, only to remain steadfast in my conviction that I could build my own brand from nothing, which became more of an undertaking when I committed more of an effort into writing after the broadcast work seemed to fall off. Even though I cover the Big East and the high-major teams in New York and New Jersey, I’m generally known as the MAAC guy, and I embrace that. It didn’t matter that Saint Peter’s was given zero chance against Kentucky in Indianapolis, the Peacocks proved that nothing is impossible when Edert, Daryl Banks III and KC Ndefo spearheaded the epic overtime upset of John Calipari and the Wildcats. The systematic takedown of Murray State that followed only confirmed that we would all get the payoff some people spend a lifetime trying to achieve.

When I saw the East Regional bracket announced on Selection Sunday, I never expected it to play out the way it did, so the payoff of Saint Peter’s taking its Cinderella status to Philadelphia was an added benefit. Lo and behold, it didn’t end there. I had the payoff, and then I rediscovered my purpose, with an assist from the team that won my then-six-year-old heart almost three decades ago.

Hubert Davis vindicated himself and silenced critics, myself included, who thought he wouldn’t be able to maintain Roy Williams’ standards at North Carolina. (Photo by Bob Dea/Daly Dose Of Hoops)

Unless you don’t pay attention to my inane ramblings and passionate inflections, you probably know that even in a media capacity, I still bleed Carolina blue and it’s sometimes impossible to separate the two. Six years ago, the North Carolina team with Marcus Paige and Brice Johnson arrived in Philadelphia as the top seed in the East Regional, and proceeded to run through Indiana and Notre Dame on the way to reaching the Final Four. End of that conversation. There’s no need to talk about what happened after that, and when the Tar Heels cut down the nets that weekend with me in the building, it was one of the greatest nights of my career at that point. Did I expect the same thing in the same place six years later, knowing UNC had to go through a tough Marquette team and then reigning national champion Baylor? Absolutely not. Why would I think that, especially when Hubert Davis had done nothing in my eyes to validate himself as Roy Williams’ worthy successor? Losing at home to one of the worst power conference teams this past season in the Pitt Panthers didn’t help either, but UNC ran Marquette out of Fort Worth and built a 25-point lead erased by an officiating debacle, then needed overtime to upset Baylor to turn what looked like a go-through-the-motions weekend into a dream setup from a coverage standpoint by giving me Carolina and Saint Peter’s. Apparently, Jon Rothstein is right about college basketball being the catalyst for the unexpected becoming the ordinary. And if Jon’s sleeping in May, he’s doing something far more efficiently than I am, because I can’t sleep well at any point during the year.

Then Davis won me over in his pregame press conference with his reverence for his position and an unselfish love — an unconditional love, if you will — for his players and to want them to succeed and get every drop out of the experience he himself enjoyed three decades prior. Much like Shaheen Holloway’s and Steve Masiello’s words before him, Davis struck a chord on the dais in the bowels of the Wells Fargo Center.

“For me, this is not a job. This is missionary work. It really is. It’s put me in a position where I can help and serve. To be in that position is very humbling. I’m very thankful and appreciative, and it’s a great place to be, but I don’t want it to stop there. I want them to have more.”

Throughout each of my 13 years cultivating this space, it has always been about you, the readers. I’m here for you just as much as I am with you, and it’s my mission to help you understand and consume, to the best of my ability, this game we all love. It is always my hope that you get the full experience when you read or follow me, because if I don’t make you feel like you’re there alongside me, it means I’ve failed. While it usually ends in a loss on paper, but sometimes, it ends in a win emotionally. For me, and I apologize for the lengthy and circuitous path I traveled to say this, it certainly did this year, even if North Carolina’s 20-point win over Saint Peter’s didn’t seem like it. The team that baptized me to the sport reached its pinnacle yet again, and the team from the conference I’ve come to love and defend like it were my own son or daughter I don’t yet have advanced its brand into previously uncharted territory. How could it get better than that, you ask? Here’s how the last week of the season played out:

Matthew Lee celebrates as Saint Peter’s knocked off Purdue to reach Elite 8. (Photo by Bob Dea/Daly Dose Of Hoops)

Saint Peter’s knocked off Purdue to reach a stage no previous No. 15 seed had gone before, doing so in its usual workmanlike fashion and providing a forever moment when the Peacocks mobbed Holloway during his postgame interview on CBS. North Carolina fended off UCLA in one of the better games of the tournament to set up the aforementioned regional final. Longtime friend Tony Bozzella led Seton Hall to the WNIT championship game, winning a thriller on the road against Columbia in the process. North Carolina, who spoiled Mike Krzyzewski’s final home game, ended his career in the Final Four before coming up just short in the national championship game against Kansas. And Saint Peter’s was honored for its accomplishments with a parade down Kennedy Boulevard in Jersey City just over two weeks ago, which was where I ended my media coverage for 2021-22.

North Carolina claimed East Regional championship en route to unlikely national championship game appearance. (Photo by Bob Dea/Daly Dose Of Hoops)

But enough about me. Now let’s reach the part of the program where we thank some of the fine people who made all this possible. I’ll start by mentioning the teams, coaches, players and administrators within the site’s coverage radius for allowing me to share their stories. My staff has also committed itself to upholding the same standards year after year, and I couldn’t be more proud to count all of them among the masthead. Jason Guerette is the best wing man I could ever hope to have at Seton Hall games. Hopefully next season doesn’t conflict too much with his broadcasting commitments, because he was greatly missed more often than not this year. Jason Dimaio stepped up in his first true professional writing experience and became a young talent I’m proud and honored to help mold. Who else can say their first day on the job included a Rick Pitino press conference and the Hall of Famer answering one of their questions after a game? Jason is going places in this business, and his work on Hofstra games this year is only the starting point. If Vinny Simone comes back next year, a strong stable only gets deeper and better. Then there’s Bob Dea. I took Bob on a few years ago when Blackbirds Hoops Journal shut down, with the intent of showcasing his exceptional talent on bigger stages. Not only do I consider him the best photographer in the business, as biased as it may be, but his work all year after not shooting since March 2020 — culminating in the East Regional semifinals and final — proved there’s nobody better at capturing the moment in a timeless snapshot. And to everyone else who contributes, you’re just as much a part of the family as anyone else. If you’re looking to join, just reach out.

To the people I reconnected with after almost two years away and those I finally met this season, please know that our interactions with one another were the highlights of a difficult, but rewarding, five months. To those who inspire me every day to be as great as they are, like my mother, Julie, the best role model, influence, fan, and friend I’ll ever have; Josh Adams at College Hoops Digest for being a sounding board through a stretch where I thought I reached the end of my rope; Sam Federman, one of the next big stars in the business, for having the vision and passion at 17 that exceeds mine at almost 36; Erika Fernandez, whose own podcast was the push I needed to start one of my own, for being like a sister to this only child and one of my bigger supporters; Joe Jarzynka, my long-lost twin (we share an August 22 birthday, only nine years apart), for upholding and reestablishing the WSJU tradition and pipeline, and then using it to shape his own successful endeavors; Ray Floriani, for his versatility in writing various columns that showcase five decades in this business like no one else; Brian Wilmer, also of College Hoops Digest, for being my muse and friendly competitor the past two weeks while we worked on our own separate epilogues; and last, but not least, you, my readers, for choosing me to be the narrator of your journeys. I cannot put into words how truly irreplaceable you all are to me. Your support warms my heart, and to say I love and appreciate it is an understatement.

So on we go, and forward we march, with what I hope will be a different shift in how coverage presents itself next year and beyond. I want to do so much more with the podcast and a little less writing, so I’ll speak that into existence now and manifest it in the coming weeks and months. I want to do pregame and postgame Twitter spaces, and the only reason I didn’t was because I have an almost four-year-old phone that I’ve used for everything because I’ve been too lazy to get my computer fixed or buy a new one. Hey, full disclosure. Let’s try to do some of those soon, too.

“He reminds me of me, so maybe that’s why we’re kind of meant for each other. Two crazies love crazy.”

That was how Steve Masiello responded when I asked if he saw himself in Jose Perez’s demeanor, and honestly, it’s how I would respond if someone asked me about seeing some of myself in all of you. We bleed the same color blood, we get worked up over the same emotions, bad officiating, and various other anachronisms in this game, and I wouldn’t trade any of that for anything. So with that being said, may the road rise up to meet you, may the wind be always at your back, may the sun shine warm upon your face, the rain fall soft upon your fields. And until we meet again, much sooner than you think, may God hold you in the palm of His hand.

That fear of the number thirteen that I spoke of in the beginning was never there to begin with. The one thing I did fear, though, was the emptiness that would have come if thirteen was indeed the last number for this site like I contemplated it would be back in January. Thankfully, I don’t have to think about that, and neither do you. I’m not going anywhere anytime soon. After what last month proved, they’re going to need a f****** wrecking ball to take me out of here.

Thank you again, for everything. The kind words, the positivity, the trust you place in me to bring you closer to the action. There’s nothing I’d rather do more. And if the elevator tries to bring you down, go crazy. Punch a higher floor.

God bless you, my friends.

Jaden Daly

Founder and Managing Editor