must've been '83 or '84... coming off the second-last good stretch of tradition... blackman, adams, nealy graduated and we made the mistake of leaving the cupboard bare... recruited roder, mitchell and jackson from st louis and a couple more clowns from illinois/wisconsin... now, this was not the fab five... more like the flub five... and they were horrid (though ben mitchell did stay on and have a fairly decent wildcat career... to the moment... one of the many disorganized, rudderless offensive trips down... defensive pressure and our guys were alternatively standing around or running away from the ball like fools... this must've taken a dozen years off jack hartman's life, because he would scream and yell to beat the band in frustration... one of these times... under a trap at half court... he yells... and in the cloud of desperation and idiocy... jim roder wheels around and passes him the ball... directly to his chest from about twenty feet... thought coaches head was going to explode