SquashTalk > 100 Years of Princeton Squash > Blair Richardson 73-74 Season Remembered

Princeton Squash 100
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Individual Memoirs
    Blair Richardson
     the 73-74 season

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    12 Seasons

1973-74: A SEASON TO REMEMBER by Blair Richardson (JBRichardsonJr@aol.com)

An Energy Crisis, a Reverse Corner, and an Unexpected Championship

It was Bobby Callahan's freshman year, and mine too. When the team all met for the first time in October 1973, we didn't know whether we'd even be good. We certainly had no idea we were about to start a dynasty that would last at least a decade.

We carried wooden rackets with names like "Bancroft Super Winner" and wore Stan Smith sneakers. The ball, a Cragin Green Diamond, was hard as a rock. It took ten minutes to warm it up, and it had an almost magical ability to break at about 12-all in the fifth game. Like clockwork, it seemed.

It was immediately apparent that we were a very young team. Three freshmen - Bobby, me, and David Bottger - would find our way into the top nine. There were three sophomores- #1 John Bottger, #2 Arif Sarfraz, and Tom "Volley" Raleigh, who never let a ball hit the ground. Juniors Hollis Russell, David Page, and David Scamurra had mature, creative games and anchored the upper middle of the lineup, while shotmaker Jeff Oakes battled for a spot near the bottom.

David Bottger and Arif Sarfraz

(l to r) Hollis Russell, Ron Beck, Dave Scamurra, David Page

The only senior in the regular lineup - also near the bottom with Oakes and me- was Ron Beck, who brought a special brutality to the game. Unlike the Philadelphia/New England boarding school contingent, Ron's motto could have been, "Try to take it from me, Preppy-Boy". Squash was suddenly a contact sport, and a drop shot from Ron just meant he'd hit it on the frame. Senior captain John Truby often found himself rooting for the team while the youngsters played, but he worked hard and unselfishly to develop the others in practice.

I learned early on about the team's history and recent frustrations. Princeton had been 8-3 the year before, losing to Navy, Penn and Harvard. We hadn't beaten Harvard since 1957 and hadn't won a national championship since 1955.

Even early in the season, a fierce competitive fire was evident, as there were more deserving players than there were spots. Although the gap between John Bottger at #1 and me at #9 was expansive, it seemed as though the differences between each player and the man just above him on the ladder were undetectable. The lineup often changed after each week's challenge matches.

In addition, the Bottger brothers brought an intense sibling rivalry that made their challenge matches riveting. Some shouting, and sometimes a little blood. But most of all, they just really wanted to win.

December 1973 was a turning point. An energy crisis shut down the campus. Coach Bill Summers must have sensed this team had a chance to go somewhere, or at least to avenge the loss to Navy the year before. He asked us all to come back early from

Coach Summers

Christmas vacation to get ready for the Navy match. As I remember it, we all came back, both the varsity and the JV.

Because the dorms were all closed, we moved into Jadwin gym, and slept on cots. The rest of the campus was dark, and eerily quiet under a coating of snow and ice in which there were no footprints. We all lived together. We practiced hard during the day, and at night we learned to play doubles.

For changes of pace, there were practical jokes. We put Hollis Russell's bed on the elevator, and sent it on its way. With Hollis in it. He good-naturedly went along for the ride.

Navy had beaten Princeton 5-4 the year before, so this match was to be a test - or so Coach Summers told us. But it turned out to be anticlimactic. Navy didn't stand a chance, and went down to us 9-0.

With little else in the way of sports going on, the Daily Princetonian named the team the "Athlete of the Week", and people started paying attention. We started to believe in ourselves.

Although we would lose a thriller to Penn 5-4, we went up to Cambridge and beat Harvard in their own house, 5-4, for Princeton's first win over them in 17 years.

When Harvard later beat Penn, it set up our final match with Dartmouth to decide the national nine-man team championship. If we beat Dartmouth 9-0, we'd win the title outright based on overall won-lost records. An 8-1 victory over Dartmouth would tie us with Harvard, but anything less would send us home as the runners up.

When the Dartmouth match began, we all knew the math. Someone lost early -- I don't recall who it was. But that just meant we couldn't drop another. One by one, we put together six victories in a row. Two to go, David Bottger and me.

Leading 2 games to none, I badly sprained my ankle, which immediately swelled up like a balloon. As I lay in the stairwell with the trainer, the Dartmouth coach took one look at my situation and pronounced, "He's done".

Then the trainer did his work. With what amounted to an "ankle cast" of tape, and Frankenstein-like mobility, I got back on the court one minute before they invoked the default rule. The stands were now packed. I simply went for winners when I could get close to the ball, and made enough of them to win the third game. As I turned to shake my opponent's hand, I saw Arif Sarfraz and Tom Raleigh whooping and jumping down into the court from the stands, followed by other teammates. They actually lifted me up into the air, onto their shoulders.

It all came down to David Bottger, and a shot I will never ever forget. Down 2 games to 1, in a fourth set tiebreaker, 16-all, receiving serve on the backhand side. Game point for us. Match point for Dartmouth. The end of our championship run one point away.

The Dartmouth serve was an arching lob. In an instant, the ball was on the ground, rolling near the front left side of the court. For a moment, we weren't sure what happened. David had stepped up and hit a backhand reverse corner off the serve return, a millimeter from the tin, on match point down. A millimeter above the tin, as it turned out.

David had just hit what I can truly say was the "bravest" shot I've ever seen. (NOTE TO DAVE: "Brave" is what you call a shot like this when it works. A millimeter lower, and other words would apply.) He ran away with the fifth game, and this surprising young Princeton team had brought home a share of the national championship for the first time in 17 years.

The following year, 1974-75, the starting 9 was essentially the same, but without Ron Beck. We knew we were good, and now, thanks to new coach David Benjamin, we were getting our Super Winners and our Stan Smiths for free. A year older, better, and fitter, we were undefeated national champions, thrashing Penn 8-1 and Harvard 7-2 in the process. Near the end of the season, Bobby Callahan's game came together, and he left those of us at the bottom wondering how we'd ever stayed close with him.

In the next decade, Princeton's squash teams, coached by Norm Peck and later by Bobby, were extraordinary juggernauts, led by such formidable players as Frank Brosens and John Nimick, and of course, the late, and extraordinary, Tommy Page, who deserves a separate tribute all his own. All in all, from the 1973-74 season through 1983-84, the Princeton team won 108 matches and lost only five.

Forgive me for going on too long, but I've had this inside for years. Perhaps the old Springsteen classic "Glory Days" should be playing in the background, and maybe I've gotten some of the details wrong. But of all my sports memories, what we did in 1973-74 was a special and dramatic achievement. We didn't know it when we started, but we had begun a dynasty. So to my friends and teammates, thank you for those wonderful times.

If I could lift you all on my shoulders, I would. Blair Richardson '77