Hofstra’s CAA title means more to those who have agonized, suffered and bore 25 years of crosses

Speedy Claxton raises CAA championship trophy aloft as Hofstra avenged having NCAA Tournament stripped from it in 2020 with victory over Monmouth Tuesday. (Photo by Hofstra Athletics)

By Christian Heimall (@ChrisHeimall)

Special to Daly Dose Of Hoops

WASHINGTON, D.C. — Three lead changes, four ties, and each team with its largest lead ballooning to seven at various points.

What started out as that familiar pit in the stomach of every fan when your team gets off to a slow start turned into that overwhelming confidence when it stormed back and seemingly took control. The ups and downs, ebbs and flows, and all-around energy shifts of a championship game provided every bit of optimism, anxiety, and euphoria.

This is not a post about the actual game, but the emotions of a fan who finally got to see something he always wanted to.

Something happens when you cover a team and not the sport as a whole. The fondness for the players, the coaches, the logo, and yes, the fans, grows on you. The roots grow deeper and thicker when that team is your alma mater. And no matter the time spent since graduation, or the distance traveled from campus, those feelings are hard to shake.

I graduated from Hofstra University in 2011, spending all four years as part of the student-run radio station, WRHU-FM. I didn’t enroll in Hempstead for athletics, but instead called Long Island home for the opportunity to call games on radio and learn the craft of being a play-by-play broadcaster. Something happened during those four years, though.

Despite all the mentoring and teaching about being ‘unbiased’ and ‘professional,’ the joy of seeing my team win overtook it all. 

My career as a student broadcaster ended in the same way that Charles Jenkins’ playing career did (not to compare arguably Hofstra’s GOAT to myself); with a semifinal loss to Gerald Lee and Old Dominion and, ultimately, a loss in the CBI to Evansville. It was an emotional time not knowing when my next broadcast would come, but also knowing a team and a program that had every shot at the NCAA Tournament had come up short with uncertainty about a chance to return.

I was fortunate to build relationships with players, coaches, and staff, many of whom I’m still friends with a decade-and-a-half since I left. So it should come as no surprise that despite my post-graduate career taking me to places like Iowa and North Carolina, or working for other schools and teams, that the Pride of Long Island still lived in my heart. I followed the team as best I could, attended games when they traveled to my area, and always put them on TV when the chance would arise. 

That love for the alma mater never wavered, and has helped maintain numerous connections. In 2016, it was ten of us reuniting at a bar in New York City to watch an overtime loss to UNCW. We reminisced and commiserated together, always vowing we would be back. In 2019, it was an expletive-filled group chat as we bemoaned a defeat at the hands of Northeastern. And one year later, it was a different tone, but the same expletives as the demons were exorcised…we thought. 

Less than one week after winning OUR first CAA tournament championship, the world shut down and COVID denied us all the opportunity to go dancing. Fast forward to tonight, six years removed from that roller coaster of emotion and willingly jumping on another one, this time with a front-row seat.

Three lead changes, four ties, and each team with its largest lead ballooning to seven at various points. What started out as that familiar pit in the stomach of every fan when your team gets off to a slow start turned into that overwhelming confidence when it stormed back and seemingly took control. The ups and downs, ebbs and flows, and all-around energy shifts of a championship game provided every bit of optimism, anxiety, and euphoria. 

After 40 intense, and incredibly well-played, minutes of basketball, it all came pouring out.

Cruz Davis and German Plotnikov hit clutch free throws to seal just the second Coastal Athletic Association tournament title ever. More importantly, it righted a wrong that the universe could not have predicted. 

I have long wanted to witness my Hofstra Pride men’s basketball team hoisting the trophy. And while watching it on TV is special, physically being there to see it is just that much better. Yes, I teared up on press row watching the final nine-tenths of a second tick off the clock. Not just because I’m someone who fell in love with the Pride almost 20 years ago, but because finally (FINALLY), for the first time since 2001, Hofstra is going dancing.

A celebration that was cut short by a once-in-a-lifetime tragedy will be run back tenfold and carried for as long as the madness will allow for OUR Hofstra Pride.