We just got it to him. There were no set plays we ran, but we knew where it needed to go. We were going to get the ball to Damon. After another timeout, Concord had to take action, and Johnson delivered, swishing a footer from the baseline. It was the 9th lead change of the game. Bailey got the inbound pass against the Concord pressure and took off, a blue blur in the open court.
As he approached the lane, Mutch stepped across and drew contact. The referee thought otherwise. Blocking foul. Bailey made both three throws. Massey rushed back, misfiring from 16 feet, and Bailey was fouled in the battle for the rebound. The Stars met for a quick huddle, then Bailey made a slow, purposeful walk to the other end for the foul shots. With the ball cocked to the right of his head, he launched. There was no way he was missing.
The ultimate competitor was in his element. There were some comparisons to Romeo Langford or whomever, but man, he could take over a game.
And he made everyone on the floor better. The way he was wired, you learned that and chased that, wanted that. The whole mentality of all of us was changed. Concord, without a timeout to plot strategy after the Bailey free throws, went for the tie.
Not once. Not twice. Four times. Johnson from the top of the key. No, but the long rebound kicked right back to him with 14 seconds. Massey from the left wing. Nope, but that board kicked long to the opposite side where Sharp grabbed it with 11 seconds. This way, you were still tied. Sharp hesitated, then let it fly from the right wing.
Off the rim, into the left corner where Massey beat Chad Mills to the ball with remaining. That was quite a moment, maybe relief. They had their chances, for sure. Even watching that part of the game later, they had a lot of opportunities. Somehow, in the bedlam, the blare of the horn pierced the noise. It was over. BNL had won the state championship. From that point, sheer joy, pandemonium, chaos, hugs, tears, bedlam. He probably had marks on his leg where I had my claws in him.
It was pretty crazy. Somehow, in the midst of the team dogpile at midcourt, Bailey wrestled free from the death-grip hug of Johnny Mike Gilbert and disappeared. How in the world could the most famous player in state history escape the cameras?
Then they found him. He had climbed into the teeming masses, found his parents, and was hoisted high with his fist raised in triumph. The image is everlasting. And he was correct. The celebration lasted several minutes before IHSAA officials could restore order and hand out the blue ribbons and that gorgeous, gigantic state championship trophy. Guess who held it aloft first? He had earned that. To finally be able to climb the mountain top, for the few people we had against us, to shut up that kind of talk was definitely a driving force.
I had heard it, and I knew the guys I was playing with were just as good, just as committed as other teams. To finally be able to do it was a little more special. For me, I wanted to find my mom. I knew what she had gone thought that whole year, dealing with the tension between Dad and me, the grumbling from the crowd. So I wanted to find her and my grandparents, to thank them. I got back to Dad later, thanked him for kicking my butt.
So much has changed. Then class basketball shifted the landscape, probably forever. Ruined it, the old-timers still say. A quarter of a century since 41, people crammed into the Hoosier Dome to watch Bailey play his final high school basketball game. Twenty-five years since he scored the last 11 points in the Indiana state championship game to lead Bedford North Lawrence to a title over an undefeated Concord team his senior year.
Yet, no one really knows — no one except Bailey — what it was like to be that teenager who everyone, it seemed, wanted a piece of. Even if all they could get were a few blades of grass from his yard. A lot of odd things went on," said Bailey, That Bailey managed to stay grounded amid all the hysteria that had built up around him is nothing short of remarkable. Nothing seemed to faze him. Nothing fazed him, it appeared to those on the outside, but Bailey remembers looking in the mirror back in those days, thinking, "Am I really this great?
But his parents weren't about to let that happen. Bailey said they taught him to block out the outside noise. Bailey came on the basketball scene as a toddler. At men's leagues around town where his dad played, he would wait for timeouts, toddle onto the court and shoot. Sometimes, he could get the ball to the basket. Sometimes, he couldn't. It didn't matter. He was shooting. And by junior high, a mere fresh-faced year-old, he had catapulted to that icon status. To recruit him as an eighth-grader.
Bailey had no idea at all. Not even an inkling when he headed to the gym for his game that Knight would be there to watch.
His junior high gym seated about 1, people and it always filled up — since Bailey was playing. Bailey was on the court warming up when he suddenly realized the IU coach was there.
And he knew he was there to watch him. For me, nobody wanted me to be better than I wanted me to be," he said. After the final buzzer sounded, Knight told his assistant coaches: "Damon Bailey is better than any guard we have right now.
I don't mean potentially better. I mean better today. Knight's quote about Bailey was in that book. Bailey's "coming out party," as Bush calls it, happened in a game early his freshman year. Bedford was playing Bloomington South, ranked third in the state.
That early game set the tone for Bailey's high school career. He would amaze his fans, his coach and his teammates game after game. News helicopters, not just local news helicopters, but helicopters from national sports outlets, would fly in and land on the high school baseball fields for games. Getting a ticket to see Bailey play was nearly impossible. Regular season games were moved to Hinkle Fieldhouse or Assembly Hall to accommodate the crowds.
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