Front page news in a wireless world. Oh cruel irony.

(Ugh, ads on the front page of newspapers...so tacky)

No sports hook here, unless you count the displacement of various Hofstra sports teams from the north side of campus cause of this little ol’ presidential debate (to which you still cannot get a ticket). But this has got to be the first time ever—or at least in the Defiantly Dutch Era—that Hofstra has been featured on the front page of Newsday on consecutive days.

The Flying Dutchmen basketball team might have gotten the school on the back page in consecutive days during the 2000 and 2001 NCAA Tournaments, and I remember three back pages in a span of 10 days in the spring of 2006, when Hofstra was The Team That Beat George Mason Twice In 11 Days But Got Screwed Anyway.

But the front page is generally unchartered waters for Hofstra. When I was there, the Powers That Be were obsessed with Newsday and the coverage Long Island’s only newspaper provided the school.

The Powers That Be are still consumed with what is written and said about the school, but I imagine Newsday ranks a lot lower on the list of priorities today than it did 15 years ago, at least when it comes to generating debate-related publicity. I imagine Hofstra gets a much bigger boost when the words “Hofstra University” are uttered by Tom Brokaw or Bob Schieffer than from any newspaper story. And Hofstra hopes you’ll skip the traditional media and go straight to the bells-and-whistles page it has devoted to the debate at its official site (though it should be pointed out the Newsday front pages are displayed on the fourth panel of the page).

Plus, let’s face it: If you consider consecutive front pages a notable burst of publicity, you’re old. Like me. Nobody reads newspapers, which are hastening their own demise by gutting the news hole and staff and charging people the same (or more) to read less, and the old standards about timing a major news announcement for maximum (or minimum) placement in the newspaper are extinct.

Barack Obama originally planned to announce his running mate via email and text message Saturday, Aug. 23, at least until CNN stole his thunder by breaking the news the night before. For those of you fortunate enough not to have majored in communications and journalism, Fridays used to be reserved for releasing news that presidential administrations wanted to bury.

That’s today’s riff on the media. While we’re on the media, though, you should check out my blogging mentor the Icepick, who has some really insightful takes on the declining state of the American press here and here. And come back tomorrow for some Bucknell-Hofstra talk as well as some links and Loyal Reader email.

Email Jerry at defiantlydutch@yahoo.com.

What? It’s Wednesday! I’m right on time with my analysis of the men’s basketball schedule that was released Friday!

There is absolutely no way to make a PG-13 riff on this scene from Heathers (the greatest movie ever made), so let's just say the schedule-maker wasn't quite as cruel to the Flying Dutchmen basketball team as I originally thought.

Remember when I was complaining about how the out-of-conference schedule for the Flying Dutchmen basketball team was too weak? Well, five days after the entire schedule was finally released, I was very tempted to come here to complain about how tough and unfair it is.

Yes. I was about to officially become what I once loathed: The sports fan who thinks everyone’s out to screw his favorite team.

Alas, I am here to tell you that I was wrong. It’s a difficult schedule in terms of pacing and Defiantly Dutch-era fans won’t be happy with the placement of the true rivalry games, but a look back at last year’s schedule indicates it was more than fair in both those regards. Stupid no-good research shooting down my half-baked, blinded-by-fandom theories!

Devising a schedule is a complicated endeavor, particularly in a 12-team conference where each team has seven “rivals” it plays twice apiece and four other teams it plays once each. (Check it out: Looks like Hofstra finally gets to play George Mason twice a year in 2009-10 and 2010-11)

Still, loading the pre-New Year’s slate with winnable games against mid-major locals makes even more sense now, because it’s clear the conference schedule—especially during Intersession—was devised by a sadist. Or this guy, who really is out to screw Hofstra whenever possible.

Hofstra, which opens CAA play Dec. 6 at Towson, begins the New Year with a home-away-home trio of games against Drexel, Northeastern and Delaware, all in a five-day span from Jan. 3-7. The Flying Dutchmen didn’t play three games in five days at all last year.

The physical games against Drexel are exhausting enough when they occur 41 days apart, like last year, but this year the Flying Dutchmen take on the Dragons twice in an 11-day stretch. Ditto for Northeastern.

The schedule gets a little less rigid after students return to campus Jan. 28, which is the same day the Flying Dutchmen visit UNC-Wilmington. Can’t really complain about that: Hofstra opened the spring 2008 semester with a home game Jan. 28 against non-conference foe Longwood.

Hofstra is one of four schools (Georgia State, Old Dominion and William & Mary, the latter of which visits Hempstead Jan. 21) scheduled to play on the road on the first day of the spring semester. Only two schools open the semester with a home game (UNC-Wilmington and Northeastern).

(Along those lines: What’s up with half the conference starting classes the first two weeks of January? Northeastern, Georgia State, Drexel, UNC-Wilmington, Old Dominion and VCU all open on Jan. 12 or earlier. The best thing about New Year’s Eve back in 1993, 1994 and 1995 was knowing the first day of school was still four weeks away. Going back during or just after the Twelve Days Of Christmas would be no fun.)

Three of the four conference opponents Hofstra has played at least 20 times visit during a 14-day span in January. (The only one that shows up in February is Towson) I was tempted to pound the podium about how wrong it is that nobody gives any respect to the Defiantly Dutch-era rivalries…but the Flying Dutchmen played Delaware, Northeastern, Towson and Drexel after Feb. 1 last year. So there you go.

One thing I couldn’t complain about, even 500 words ago: The away schedule seems road trip-friendly. Manhattan is Thanksgiving weekend while Stony Brook is doable even on a Wednesday night in the middle of December. The wife has already pitched the idea of a trip to Drexel and the awesomely cramped Daskalakis Athletic Center during her vacation in mid-January, and what says Valentine’s Day better than a game at Delaware and dinner at Cluck U?

Immediate edit: Oh my. There is no longer a Cluck U in Newark. First the Stone Balloon goes to the great bar in the sky and now Cluck U. Why must the world be so cruel? OK it looks like our Valentine’s Day will be a game at Delaware and dinner at Friendly’s. Or Friday’s. Or there may be an Applebee’s there, I can’t remember.

And hell: With gas prices dropping daily and the economy robust, I’m figuring the gainfully employed Sully Ray will volunteer to drive to UMass and New Hampshire the Saturday before and after Christmas, respectively! Unless he wants to stick it to us like the schedule-maker, of course.

Email Jerry at defiantlydutch@yahoo.com.

In which my parents’ cats may or may not get an “F” after threatening my most prized Hofstra memento

Did my parents' cats pull a Santa's Little Helper and destroy a mini-basketball autographed by Butch van Breda Kolff and three other guys? You'll have to read to find out!

Those who know me well know the only thing I’m better at than procrastinating is sleeping. I can sleep 10 or 12 hours at a clip. I’m such a deep sleeper that when a comet wipes out most of humanity and turns almost all the survivors into zombies, I’ll sleep through it and wake up completely unaffected, ready to run through the empty malls and drive unabated around the vacant streets.

(Man, a 45-word sentence devoted to Night Of The Comet, the ultimate rainy Saturday afternoon movie. Did not see that one coming, at all)

I am famous for sleeping through the alarm and whacking the snooze bar as often as possible. One morning during my first year at Hofstra, Loyal Reader and former roommate John was so disgusted with the alarm going off every nine minutes that he fired a sneaker at me. I slept through it.

So my wife could not have been surprised Sunday, when she tried stirring me at my parents’ house.

“Get up, we’re going out with your mom.”
“Mmmmm.”

“C’mon, don’t you want to check your fantasy lineup one more time?”
“Mmmmm.”

“Jer, c’mon.”
“*unintelligible garbling*”

Then she said the magic words.

“Your mom says the cats are playing with the mini-basketball.”

Ever see a cartoon where the character moves so fast that he leaves his outline behind? That was me. I went from barely lucid to some state of super-consciousness. In one fluid motion, I got up, put on my jeans, opened the door and stormed down the stairs.

If the videotapes of Hofstra football games were the potential holy grail of last weekend’s scavenger hunt at my parents’ house, then the mini-basketball from Butch van Breda Kolff’s retirement dinner June 9, 1994—a mini-basketball autographed by VBK, former St. John’s coach Lou Carnesecca, former Princeton coach Pete Carril and Princeton icon and former Senator Bill Bradley—was the winning lottery ticket I accidentally found.

I wasn’t looking for it, but after a few hours in my possession, I realized I couldn’t do without it. I mean, we’re talking about a basketball featuring 1,913 victories, three Final Four appearances and three Hall of Famers, not to mention the memories of a raucous dinner at the Crest Hollow Country Club.

That puppy deserves to be displayed, ever so carefully, behind glass, for the rest of time. Never mind that this irreplaceable memento was in the basement for God only knows how long, collecting dust and God only knows what else, or that to have this irreplaceable memento taken from me mere hours after I re-discovered it would have been ironic in the sense that it wouldn’t be ironic at all.

That was then. This was now. And the thought of my parents’ cats ripping the mini-basketball to shreds, a la Santa’s Little Helper and the quilt produced by six generations of Marge Simpson’s family, made my stomach hurt.

“Good morning, honey,” mom said.

“Where’s the ball?” I said. Not the nicest greeting to the woman who bore and raised and showered me with unconditional love, I’ll admit.

I looked in the living room, where I’d left it on the floor the night before. Not there. If the cats killed the ball…I love cats. I really do. They are the best, most loyal and intelligent animal companions on the planet. But if my parents’ cats killed the ball, taking them from the house and putting them up for adoption (the cats, not my parents) would have been the kindest fate I could have administered. By far.

I stalked and scanned. Nothing in the hallway, nothing in the dining room. Where in the hell was the ball?

Then I saw it: Leaning up against my dad’s recliner. I ran over and picked it up, fearing it would disintegrate as I did so. No. It was still in one piece. Now for the second fear: It would be pecked with little scratch marks. No. No scratch marks.

Then it was time to peruse the ball to make sure its most important features remained intact: The signatures. And they, too, were fine and appear no more smudged than the last time I’d looked at the ball mere hours earlier.

“Aren’t you glad the cats are declawed?” mom said.

I picked the ball up, walked into the living room and placed it behind a whole bunch of frames on the highest and most cluttered table in the room, someplace even the damn cats couldn’t get to it. Then I saw one of them stretch out on the floor in the “look at me, rub my innocent little belly” pose. Damn cats.

So yes. The mini-basketball is still alive and placed, temporarily at least, on a shelf behind glass doors in our bookcase. Here are some admittedly crappy pictures taken with my cell phone. Believe it or not, my attempts to take pictures with a real camera were even worse. If I can find anyone (hint: I’m talking to you, darling wife!) to take better pics, I’ll post them.





I realize gushing over an autographed mini-basketball isn’t exactly the smartest thing to do for someone who still harbors hopes of getting back into sportswriting for a living (once again, if you’re hiring, email me at defiantlydutch@yahoo.com!). And today, the thought of asking someone for an autograph—particularly someone I’d covered months earlier, even if he was a retiring icon surrounded by fellow icons of his sport—makes me shudder.

But back then, I didn’t know any better. And even knowing what I know today, I’ve got no regrets about going into fanboy mode around VBK at 20 years old. Nearly 15 years later, I still haven’t covered anyone as interesting as him.

He was different—a living legend yet one whose ratio of accessibility to accomplishment was completely out of whack, and in a good way. He was a guy who came within two points of winning an NBA title with the Lakers, yet he lived at Twin Oaks and, I believe, coached Hofstra’s tennis team for a while.

I couldn’t believe it when the sports editor of The Chronicle told me I could just go to the Physical Fitness Center and talk to VBK after a practice. The first time I ever interviewed VBK after a game, he invited me into his office and offered me a beer and half his sandwich.

VBK loved his beer, something he noted during his hilarious speech at the Crest Hollow. He ranted and raved about how the doctors told him he could no longer drink real beer after his heart attack scare earlier in the year, so he was stuck drinking O’Douls.

He eschewed glitz and glamour in favor of sweatpants, sweaters and an authentic love for basketball and teaching. Upon retiring from Hofstra, he said he hoped he taught his players important things about punctuality and professionalism.

He also had no interest in coddling large egos or compromising his beliefs. VBK told Wilt Chamberlain to stay seated after the Lakers mounted a stirring comeback in Game Seven of the 1969 NBA Finals, a decision that surely played a big part in his vagabond late-career path to the backwoods of the ABA, the WBL (Women’s Basketball League) and a Mississippi high school before he landed at Lafayette, Hofstra and, for a brief time in 1996, the United States Basketball League.

It’s a cool memento of a bygone era, that basketball signed by VBK and three other guys. And it’s one I’ve saved from the cats. For good.

Email Jerry at defiantlydutch@yahoo.com.

Hofstra beats James Madison!!!

Even Homer Simpson—shown here dodging Sideshow Bob by assuming the identity of John Elway impersonator Cory Christopher—could not score a touchdown at the gun to bring Hofstra within 56-7.

That’s right. The Flying Dutchwomen volleyball team outlasted James Madison, three games to two Saturday in Virginia. (Note: I know the NCAA ditched the “games” reference in favor of “sets” earlier this year. But like with the NCAA’s new term for I-AA, I refuse to conform. Why change it to sets? Calling what everyone else calls sets “games” differentiated volleyball from tennis. So there.)

It was exciting stuff, with none of the first four games decided by more than five points and the fifth game decided by two points. The win was Hofstra’s second five-game victory in as many nights and improved the road-weary Flying Dutchwomen—who are is in the midst of a 47-day stretch in which it does not host a match on campus—to 2-1 in the CAA, a game behind their next opponent, William & Mary.

And that’s it. Nothing else happened this weekend between the Dutch and the Dukes. The football team enjoyed its weekend off by watching Division I football at Margiotta Hall. And the field hockey team took a couple days off after its overtime win over VCU Friday.

Ahh, as if refusing to discuss something really did mean it never happened. The seventh-ranked James Madison field hockey team beat the Flying Dutchwomen, 7-3, Sunday in Virginia. It’s only the third time since 2003 Hofstra has allowed as many as seven goals in a game.

And you no doubt know by now, the Flying Dutchmen absorbed an extraordinary beating Saturday in a 56-0 loss to top-ranked James Madison. My wife and I had an idea of how bad things were going when I logged on to WRHU.com in the second quarter and heard one of the announcers saying anything was possible in the face of a 21-0 deficit.

I doubt he was referring to the possibility of Hofstra suffering the most lopsided defeat in the program’s 68-year history (exceeding the 49-point margin of defeat against Lehigh in 1973 and American International in 1979) or only the third shutout since 1978. On the bright side, though, the 56 points allowed only tied a school record! (American International also scored 56 points) Somewhere, you just know that the loyal fans of Central Connecticut State and Charleston Southern are having a good laugh.

(Honest to goodness true story: As I finished writing this, John Discepolo—the former Flying Dutchmen punter and current WCBS-2 sports anchor—opened his report on the Giants’ rout of the Seahawks by saying “I can tell you guys, as a player, there’s nothing worse than traveling a long distance, getting your tails kicked in and then having to fly back seven hours. It is the quietest and the longest ride of your life. And that’s exactly what the Seahawks had to endure yesterday.” John was on the 1992 team that went to Montana and got smoked 50-6 in the season finale. See? Who says you can’t be productive staying up all night?)

We have no idea how brutal the bus ride home was. But to get an idea of how ugly the game was to watch, check out the running thread at the Hofstra board at CAAZone.com. Dave Cohen can only hope the rest of the fan base isn’t as livid today.

A quick look at the final stat packet indicates the game may not have been as close as the final score indicated. The highlight for Hofstra occurred on the opening kickoff, when Chris Edmond recovered a fumble at the James Madison 41. The next three plays resulted in a loss of eight yards and Shane Casciano’s punt was blocked and returned for a touchdown on fourth down.

Hofstra, which was shutout for only the third time since 1978, was limited to 195 yards of total offense on 65 plays and had only four plays of 10 yards or more. The Flying Dutchmen moved beyond the James Madison 30-yard-line just once, but Roger Williams missed a 27-yard field goal late in the first half.

So…yeah. Good thing I got that Hofstra/receiving votes anecdote out of the way Friday. As good as James Madison is, the loss confirms the fears of those who wondered how the rebuilding Flying Dutchmen would fare against the meat of a brutal schedule. Cohen and his staff get a chance to retool against non-conference foe Bucknell, which has won three games by a combined 13 points, and Maine, which is 0-2 in the CAA, before playing three straight teams currently ranked among the top 15 in the I-AA coaches’ poll.

On the brighter side, the weekend wasn’t a completely lost one here at DDHQ. The trip home to the original DDHQ was a successful one as I found some cool Defiantly Dutch-era swag in the basement…and, I hope, the holy grail amongst a box of videotapes buried in my bedroom closet: Old SportsChannel football broadcasts!

(Oh, when my wife reads this: That’s why there’s a brown bag filled with unboxed, unlabeled videotapes sitting in the living room. Don’t worry. I didn’t go crazy at a porn store’s going-out-of-business sale!)

More tomorrow on the coolest item I found in the basement. And less on James Madison’s dominance.

Email Jerry at defiantlydutch@yahoo.com.

Dutch ranked 39th in new poll!

Doug Sisk: Awful in his prime, but still better today than Luis Ayala and Aaron Heilman.

Sorry for the longer than anticipated sabbatical. The off-board work took longer than I anticipated to complete. (And my entire audience wonders where it’s heard THAT before)

Ahh who am I kidding? The only person who noticed I was gone was Sully Ray, who says he reads me every day but still sent me an impatient email Wednesday wondering where I was. I guess, like so many readers who are starved for time and an attention span these days, he scans instead of reads and misses end-of-story tags that explain my impending absence. Sniff.

Anyway, we’ll be back to a regular Monday-Friday posting next week. But a few quick things before Hofstra tries to take down top-ranked James Madison Saturday in Virginia:

—After the Flying Dutchmen lost to Albany, I figured there was no chance I could use Loyal Reader Rob’s hilarious observation made a few days before the game, when he noted Hofstra received five votes in the first I-AA poll of the season. Wrote Rob: “It made me think that if we were running The Chronicle, it would have a front-page story that [read] ‘Dutch Ranked 48th in New Poll.’”

It’s true. Back then, Hofstra was so far below the radar in most sports—softball and men’s lacrosse being the exceptions—that any national recognition was a big deal. And as sports fans who were ticked off that nobody seemed to be paying any attention to the Division I program right on campus, Rob, myself and the rest of the editorial board didn’t need much of an excuse to want to splash sports on the front page.

Still, I like to think we resisted the urge most of the time and kept the front page for the truly important news of the week. Like the endless friggin’ secretaries strike in 1995 or the re-opening of Dunkin Donuts across from campus. (I don’t care how convenient that one was and is, some of the best memories of college involved driving to the Dunkin’ Donuts in East Meadow in the middle of the night for a sugar- and caffeine-fueled pick-me-up)

Where was I? Oh yeah. The I-AA poll. Amazingly, Hofstra crawled back into the “others receiving votes” category this week, when it garnered TWO votes in the coaches’ poll. That tied the Flying Dutchmen for 39th in the nation with Colgate and San Diego…but a vote ahead of three other schools, including Harvard. Hofstra: No longer half as expensive as Harvard, but twice as good in football!

Now I’m as big and supportive a Hofstra fan as anyone you’ll ever find, and I haven’t seen any other I-AA games this season. But I’m not sure how two voters could place the Flying Dutchmen in the national top 25 after two wins over a pair of teams with a combined record of 2-8—especially given the razor-thin escape against Rhode Island, which was picked to finish last in the CAA North, and Stony Brook’s slumping offense, which is on pace to score negative points by Oct. 18.

Oh well I’m not complaining. I just hope Hofstra does enough against James Madison to remain among those receiving votes. And if the Flying Dutchmen win…I better see a front page story about it in The Chronicle.

—Regardless of how the football team fares Saturday, at least it’ll play. Which is more than Colgate can say.

—Hmm, need a San Diego reference here. Skyyyyyyrockets in filght!

—The Sports Network, which runs the writer’s poll, foresees a 30-17 win for James Madison.

—According to crack Hofstra SID Jim Sheehan, the Flying Dutchmen haven’t played the nation’s top-ranked team since 2002, when they fell to Montana 21-0 at Shuart Stadium. Overall, Hofstra is 3-10 against Top 10 teams since 2001.

—Keep your fingers crossed—all four of you!—that this weekend is a bountiful one at Defiantly Dutch. We’re heading up to the original DDHQ—that would be my parents’ house—for a visit and I’m going to head into the basement and see what kind of old-school artifacts I can dig up. I know what I want to find, I just hope the items didn’t vanish with time.

Email Jerry at defiantlydutch@yahoo.com.

See? I told you so. The trends were in favor of Hofstra limiting Stony Brook to a field goal.

Nobody's umbrella ended up two miles away inside out Friday. Thanks, local weathermen!

Before we get chatting about what will almost surely be the most lopsided victory of the year for the Flying Dutchmen football team, I’d like to give a big shout out to the weathermen who scared the wife and I into sitting home Friday instead of actually seeing the 43-3 win in person.

As a member of the media, I’ve always hated it when the public uses a negative experience—or a negative perception—to broadly and unfavorably paint the rest of us with the same stroke. But, you know, I’m already over blasting all weathermen.

I know, I know: You can’t predict the weather and its various quirks and hiccups. Well, if it’s unpredictable, then stop gushing over your super duper new awesome Doppler 92,000,000 and how it’s going to make my life so much more awesome. You never hear media members prattle on about how the newest digital recorder is going to bring you your news in a more accurate and timely fashion, do you?

Plus, I don’t mind criticizing weathermen because they’re not like cops. You’re not going to be sitting there during a downpour or a blizzard going “Damnit! Where is a weatherman when I need one?” and wishing you’d never said anything negative about their entire species.

Where was I? Oh yeah. My wife and I sitting home and watching MSG-Plus (how can MSG have a Plus when they’re so bereft of programming they aired MSG, NY or MSG Vault for 13 hours on the flagship between 8 am Sunday and 4 am Monday?) because we feared we’d end up watching the game in a Charleston Southern-type end-of-the-world monsoon. Instead, LaValle Stadium was blanketed in a gentle mist.

Apparently, we weren’t the only ones scared off by lousy weather reports. The listed attendance of 2,105 seemed quite generous judging by the acres of empty space.

What we missed was a final score that did indeed evoke nostalgia, though not the type I was imagining last week. One trend I forgot to mention Friday was Hofstra’s 3-1 mark and razor-thin average margin of victory (6.5 points) in its last four games against non-scholarship programs.

But instead of providing a reminder of the days when Hofstra was the non-scholarship team scaring the bejeezus out of the Big Dogs, the Flying Dutchmen harkened back to the old-fashioned beatings they would administer to undermanned opponents—like in 2005, when they beat Albany and Stony Brook by a combined score of 91-7. Or, if you’re like me, it was reminiscent of 1995 and that 56-6 Homecoming thrashing of Charleston Southern that felt as if it easily could have been 156-0.

It was a victory whose dominance was not in the stats but in the details. Hofstra had only two more first downs than Stony Brook (18-16), outgained the Seawolves by just 105 yards (316-211) and held a narrow advantage in time of possession (32:03-27:57).

But the Flying Dutchmen did what a scholarship program is supposed to do against a Stony Brook-type program: Take advantage of mistakes, put the proverbial foot on the proverbial throat (as opposed to the Mets, who put their actual hands on their actual throats—two years running!) and don’t give the non-scholarship opponent a chance to believe it can pull off a miracle.

Stony Brook’s one chance to create some momentum on its first possession evaporated when a wide-open Dwayne Eley dropped a sure touchdown pass on second down. The Seawolves turned the ball over on downs and didn’t move back into Hofstra territory until they were down 31-0.

Leslie Jackman made the play of the night—and, according to ESPN, the 10th-best play in America; he’s still no Chris Parsons—when he stripped Edwin Gowins of the ball near the sideline and raced 60 yards for the touchdown. Two other interceptions led to touchdowns.

There was no need to fill up the stat sheet up 17-0 a minute into the second quarter, 24-0 midway thru the period and 31-3 at halftime. By that point, the only objective was to get out healthy heading into this weekend’s game against a far more formidable foe: James Madison, which is ranked no. 1 in the I-AA coaches’ poll and no. 2 in the writers’ poll.

The only remaining suspense Friday was provided by the Dutchmen’s quest to keep the Seawolves out of the end zone and an impressive third quarter punt by Roger Williams, who ran 20 yards to chase down an errant snap, turned around and managed to boot the ball inside the Seawolves’ five-yard-line.

Good thing he didn’t pay any attention to the weathermen. Otherwise he probably would have fallen to the ground and conceded the lost yardage, because who could possibly punt in that monsoon?

(Note: Posts may be sporadic as I finish another writing project over the next couple days)

Email Jerry at defiantlydutch@yahoo.com.

Schmitt's Hofstra Status Long Ago Cemented

Below is the first-ever Defiantly Dutch feature story, which was culled from an interview with John Schmitt after his number was retired at Shuart Stadium last Saturday. This is the type of occasional feature I had in mind when I started the blog—something interesting, I hope, that you’re probably not going to find anywhere else—so I’m curious for any feedback the Loyal Readers may have. Stay tuned to Defiantly Dutch for another (hopefully interesting) feature next week. Thanks to Schmitt for taking the time to chat last weekend and to Jim Sheehan, the MVP of sports information directors, for facilitating the interview.


Long before Shuart Stadium, hopes of a national championship in Division I-AA and retired numbers displayed on Margiotta Hall, there was the Cement Bowl, flowers in cement and one very sick newlywed in November 1962.

“We had a wedding date set for November 24 and about November 15 or 12 or 10 we got invited to the bowl,” John Schmitt said. “So I said to coach [Howdy] Myers ‘I gotta get married that weekend, it’s two weekends before the bowl game.’ He says ‘How long you gonna be?’ I said ‘Well, I’d like to take five or six days.’

“So we got married and we went up to the Concord Hotel for our honeymoon. And I got sick—I was taken to the hospital. I had a virus [and] I was sick almost my whole honeymoon. I came back, I was 20 pounds lighter and everybody wanted to see what my wife looked like because I worked off 20 pounds. They didn’t know I wasn’t even with her.”

Before the stomach-churning honeymoon, though, the Schmitts made their contribution to the construction of what is now Shuart Stadium. “They took her flowers from our wedding and put it on the 50-yard-line,” Schmitt said. “One of the contractors building those stands was pouring the concrete. So he put the flowers in there. It was immortalized.

“See where that CAA [sign] is? Right behind that CAA, about eight rows up, are the flowers.”

Schmitt, of course, can now point to something much more tangible after his number 77 was retired at halftime of the Flying Dutchmen’s 23-20 win over Rhode Island last Saturday. It was the latest honor bestowed upon Schmitt by Hofstra, which previously awarded him a trio of alumni awards as well as made him one of the inaugural inductees into the school’s Hall of Fame.

“It was really, really exciting and such an honor,” Schmitt said. “And then to see my jersey up on Margiotta Hall—I had no idea that that was happening. When I looked around and saw that, I couldn’t believe it. That was fantastic. That really was fantastic.”

Schmitt had plenty of football left to play after graduating from Hofstra following the 1963 season. He parlayed a free agent tryout with the Jets into 11 seasons as the anchor of their offensive line. He started at center Jan. 12, 1969, when Joe Namath followed through on his guarantee in the Jets’ shocking upset of the Colts in Super Bowl III.

“This is my third ring,” Schmitt said as he fiddled with the jewelry. “My first one I lost surfing in Hawaii, believe it or not. I came in at the end of the day and there was no ring on my hand. I almost died. I had it insured so I bought a new one and then wore it out because I take it off so much to show people. A year ago Christmas, I had a new one made and I had ones made for my two sons and son-in-law.

“This is brand-spanking new. I wear it every day. I never leave home without it.”

Schmitt wouldn’t trade the ring—or the experience of being a part of the Jets’ only championship team—for anything. But that doesn’t mean he’s completely over the Cement Bowl loss to West Chester (known back then as West Chester State College), either. Schmitt took great—pardon the pun—pride in playing both sides of the ball during his career at Hofstra. But he was so weakened prior to the Cement Bowl that he could only play defense in the 46-12 loss.

“They don’t do that today,” Schmitt said with a laugh, talking as much about his in-season honeymoon as playing on both lines. “That was a long time ago. Long, long time ago.”

Nobody’s going to go two ways any time soon in the NFL—especially now that this guy is retired—but Schmitt’s throwback lessons about preparing for life after football are even more relevant today. As an undrafted free agent playing in the days before salaries exploded, Schmitt feared every year would be his last, so he worked multiple jobs during his career and founded an insurance firm in 1973 that remains wildly successful today.

“My best year, 1975, I made $55,000,” Schmitt said. “Kevin Mawae was my best friend on the Jets…a few years back he was making $4.3 million. He made more in one game than I did in 12 years.

“But the average [career] is 3.7 [years]. If you’re fortunate enough to play six or seven or eight or nine years, if you use your head and invest your money wisely, you can be very much set up for the rest of your life.”

Of course, it doesn’t always work that way—then or now. Yet Schmitt wasn’t surprised when he spoke to a group of Jets and found his message falling on deaf ears.

“The guys think that football’s never going to end—and I did too, by the way,” Schmitt said. “After 12 years I thought I could play three more. But your body wears out and things happen and situations change. And it’s really, really tough. A lot of guys just never think that it’s going to end and never prepare for the time when they’re not a football player.

“It’s sad, you know, because I see a lot of my friends. Granted, they had a better time when they played football than I did, because they were out every night enjoying themselves and I was working every night.

“But in the long run, what I did paid off a lot more.”

Email Jerry at defiantlydutch@yahoo.com.