I’ve loved college basketball ever since I learned that my childhood dentist was once a starter for the only team to ever win both the NCAA title and what was then the more respected post-season tournament, the NIT, in the same year, the 1949-50 City College of New York Beavers. Dr. Irwin Dambrot instilled an appreciation and a passion for the college game while he was neglecting to provide me a sufficient enough gas dosage to put me out while he removed four wisdom teeth from my mouth in the same session. Were it not for his sense of humor and his ability to storytell, I might still be screaming from the trauma I endured.
That same year, a 22-year-old son of Italian immigrants who were running a grocery store on Manhattan’s East Side named Luigi P. Carnesseca graduated from what at that time was an inferior school both academically and athletically, St. John’s University, whose campus was then based in a cluster of office buildings in downtown Brooklyn. The campus eventually moved to the relatively rural environment of Jamaica, Queens, mere minutes from where my family eventually moved themselves. And as the CCNY program devolved in the wake of the aftermath of a major point-shaving scandal which many of his teammates were implicated in, Dr. Dambrot’s devotion was to the then-Redmen who played most of their home games in a bandbox on-campus noise trap called Alumni Hall. And he was particularly enthusiastic about their new young coach named Lou Carnesseca.
So this nice Jewish boy, just like Irwin Dambrot, became a St. John’s fan. And I’ve remained such even though I’ve come to embrace other programs, most notably UCLA, where a friend and I shared season tickets and his daughter shared many post-game play session with the grandson of arguably UCLA’s greatest ambassador, the legendary John Wooden. I had the privilage of sharing some lovely chats with the Wizard of Westwood, much to the envy of so many other fans who weren’t quite as lucky. And when “Coach” heard my accent, he immediately identified me as a Noo Yawkah and he accurately IDd me as a St. John’s fan.
“There are few finer coaches and leaders I’ve encountered in this game than Lou”, he gushed. “But he needs to get a wardrobe consultant”.
Carnesseca was at that point in his second tour of duty coaching his alma mater, and they were a perennial threat. And by that point the magic of cable was beaming the Monday night package of Big East showdowns into even homes in Los Angeles, first through superstation WOR-TV and then ESPN. For anyone around in that era, it was a magical time, ultra-competitive and ultra-passionate programs. And amidst the varied exaggerated coaching personalities that included the imposing John Thompson of Georgetown, the bookish Jim Boeheim of Syracuse and the wily Jim Calhoun of UConn it was Looie and his sweaters that stood out the most.
Which may explain why I’m a bit wistful as I read the NEW YORK POST’s Don Burke’s story from yesterday where one of the first things addressed after the headline was the story behind the wardrobe malfunction that defined him to even someone as nuanced and classy as John Wooden:
Lou Carnesecca…died on Saturday afternoon…Carnesecca, who would have turned 100 on Jan. 5, retired from coaching in 1992, but kept an office on the Queens campus for more than 30 years in his role as an assistant to the university president and remained a presence at many of the team’s home games until 2022.
He had his most successful season in 1984-85 when, led by Mullin, the Johnnies went 31-4 and reached the Final Four. Just prior to the start of that season Carnesecca received a gift from the coach of the Italian women’s national team — a pair of garish red, blue and brown sweaters.
“One was uglier than the other,” wrote Carnesecca, who quickly tossed the sweaters in a closet in his Alumni Hall office. “They looked like some kindergarten kid’s finger painting.”
They stayed buried in that closet until January when the Johnnies were scheduled to leave for a game in Pittsburgh and Carnesecca was under the weather. His wife, Mary, suggested he bring a sweater so Carnesecca, who said he always listened to Mary, reached into the closet and grabbed one of those ugly sweaters.
Carnesecca took a lot of abuse when he wore it to the game at Pitt while telling everyone it was his lucky sweater. The sweater soon took on life of its own as the Johnnies went on an extended winning streak. Carnesecca wore it all the way to the Final Four in Lexington, Ky. where the Johnnies eventually lost to Georgetown in the semifinals.
But make no mistake–what he may have lacked in fashion taste was more than made up for by his basketball acumen and success, as THE NEW YORK DAILY NEWS’ Peter Sblendorio detailed:
In his 24 seasons, Carnesecca took St. John’s to 18 NCAA Tournaments and to six berths in the NIT, winning the latter in 1989. St. John’s won at least 20 games in 18 of Carnesecca’s seasons.
Carnesecca was college basketball’s national coach of the year in 1983 and 1985, and he was inducted into the Naismith Memorial Basketball Hall of Fame in 1992, the same year he retired from coaching.
He went 112-65 against the Big East in the regular season in his 13 years in the conference, winning it in 1983 and 1986. He was the Big East’s coach of the year three times.
Burke added:
With a raspy voice and, in the latter stages of his career, sporting a pair of the worst-looking sweaters ever designed, Carnesecca’s teams won 526 games and lost 200 while he sent more than a dozen players to the NBA and ABA, including Chris Mullin, Mark Jackson, Jayson Williams, Bill Wennington, Billy Paultz, George Johnson, Walter Berry and the late Malik Sealy.
Carnesseca was also a masterful racounteur, able to engage with elites and common folk with ease. Witness how Looie (as the New York media always spelled his name in virtually every write-up) entertained the crowd when he was the man of the hour, as Burke recounted:
Back in 2001, a banner was raised to the rafters at Madison Square Garden bearing Carnesecca’s name and his victory total of 526.
“Hey, in my father’s delicatessen the only thing on the ceiling was sawdust-covered prosciutto and no one ever wanted that,” he said at the time.
But for a a ham as talented and enduring as was Looie, I would have fought my way to the front of the line.
I hope Carnesseca’s now finding a courtside seat somewhere next to Wooden, where these two wizards can swap stories and evaluate talent for eternity. I also hope he’ll take his compatriot’s wardrobe advice.
Courage…