The Wolfpacker: An Independent Magazine Covering NC State Sports
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50 ■ THE WOLFPACKER The Namesake Was Fictional, But The Camaraderie Was Real Tim Peeler is a regular contributor to The Wolfpacker and can be reached at tmpeeler@ncsu.edu. PACK PERSPECTIVE BY TIM PEELER A feared member of NC State basket- ball's legacy has finally creeped into the dark night. Ol' Joe Hayes — or at least the mem- bers of the club that bears his name — won't haunt the Wolfpack anymore. Dwindling membership forced the lead- ers of the club to disband it after one last meeting, on Dec. 7 before the NC State- Florida State basketball game. "Our membership has dwindled from about 40 people down to 15 or 16," said Van Giersch, who has organized the reg- ular meetings with his wife, Gigi, and members Thom and Grace Hodgson for the past 22 years. "Sometimes we only have five or six. Many of the members have just aged out and don't go to the games anymore." For years, some of the most devoted supporters of Wolfpack basketball have gathered in Joe's name, mostly for social time before or after home men's bas- ketball games. Early on, it was an invi- tation-only social club started by Norm Sloan, who religiously attended every postgame meeting with his wife, Joan. In the early days, they met at the Players Retreat or at the now demol- ished Velvet Cloak. In recent years, they've gathered at the University Club on Hillsborough Street prior to home ACC basketball games, a means for a mostly elderly collection of fans to re- member the early days when a passion for the hardwoods gripped the state. The club wasn't as active during the days of Jim Valvano, who didn't par- ticularly enjoy required meetings with boosters. When his successor, Les Rob- inson, who knew all too well that Joe Hayes' eyes were on him at the bars on Hillsborough Street, returned to Raleigh in the 1990s, he and his wife, Barbara, stopped by when they could, mainly be- cause Sloan had retired from coaching, moved back to the Triangle and wanted to get together with his old friends again. By then, they had moved to the University Club or at members' homes. Sounds exactly like the kind of mis- chief Hayes was accused of by legendary head coach Everett Case during his 16 years as head coach. The club was made up of former pro- fessors, administrators, former players, coaches and fans interested in getting together to talk about the days of Dick Dickey, Ronnie Shavlik, Vann Willi- ford, David Thompson and the legends that followed. Sometimes, those play- ers stopped by to tell stories about their days with the Wolfpack. Folks like George and Reba Worsley, Phil Kirk, Pattie Hunt, Ken and Thom- assina Kennedy, Wendell and Linda Murphy and about a dozen others were on hand for the final meeting. Widows and widowers were there, reminisc- ing about the times they spent talking about their families, framed by bas- ketball rivalries. A handful of members recall the joy of finding Dixie Classic tickets in their Christmas stockings. Mostly, though, they recall the fel- lowship and friendship the club has given multiple generations of support- ers through the years and the sadness they had as, one by aging one, they said goodbye to those friendships. "It breaks my heart that we have to do this," Giersch said. "But it is time to say goodbye to our friends and bid Ol' Joe Hayes adieu." But who the heck was Hayes? The Indiana-inspired sidekick was never an NC State coach. Nor a player. Nor an administrator, professor or staffer. He was much more important than that. In short, he was a figment of Case's imagination, a boogie man who roamed the Hillsborough Street watering holes in search of players out past curfew and re- ported back to the coaching staff. He lived in the cigarette smoke-choked rafters of Reynolds Coliseum, just waiting to cause mischief. Hayes was also the scapegoat Case used when misfortune befell his pro- gram, such as the three NCAA pro- bations, the broken wrist suffered by Shavlik in the 1956 ACC Tournament that eventually prevented Case's best team from winning the national cham- pionship, and the point-shaving scan- dal that ended the Dixie Classic and ir- reparably broke the coach's heart. Sometimes, it was unclear whether Hayes was for Case or against the Pack. Maybe it was Hayes who gave Vic Bubas the mumps before the 1950 NCAA semifinals. Maybe it was him, not Kentucky coach Adolph Rupp, who put NCAA investigators on the recruit- ing of Jackie Moreland. Maybe it was he who tempted four players to gamble and point shave in the early 1960s. Maybe it was he who whispered answers to Pete Maravich when the young player tried to get a qualifying score on the SAT so he could attend NC State. The Ol' Joe Hayes Club celebrated not the missteps, but the memories created by Case back when he and his teams dominated Southern Conference and ACC basketball. ■ Members of the Ol' Joe Hayes Club gathered for the last time on Dec. 7. The club, which has supported Wolfpack men's basketball for decades, is being disbanded due to declining membership. PHOTO COURTESY TIM PEELER