Post by hoyainspirit on Feb 15, 2012 14:23:30 GMT -5
The post-brawl life for Tu Holloway
EXCERPT:
What's wrong with Xavier probably can be best summed up in one Chris Mack exhortation from practice.
"C'mon, Tu," the coach yelled the day before the Musketeers hosted Saint Louis, "I want my tough guard back."
He's in there somewhere, lost in the maze of Holloway's mental anguish, paralyzed between humiliation and confusion and tangled up in a naive hope that, by playing like more of a pleaser than an aggressor, he'll change people's opinions.
"I think it all took some of the life out of me," Holloway said. "I know I need to get it back. I just don't know how. I'm thinking too much, way too much. To be great, you have to play with emotion and passion. I'm trying."...
"I know every word that I said and I understand the reaction, but I also know that, it might sound cliche, but that's what you talk about when you're playing, about being tough," he said. "When you're on the playground, if you're not tough, you don't play."
Except Xavier University is not a New York City playground; it is a proud Jesuit university.
And, after such reprehensible behavior from both teams, the only appropriate tone is absolute remorse.
Instead, the All-American who had never made a misstep, who had been so reliable that Xavier officials never even considered keeping him from meeting with the media, went wildly off course.
To anyone's ears, he sounded foolishly tough and hopelessly out of touch, proud of the mess he helped create instead of ashamed.
Holloway was genuinely stunned by the reaction, failing to realize how his words would be interpreted.
"It's so hard because it's words," Mack said. "You have to look at what he said. Most people didn't. They stopped after gangster. He made a point of saying this was about the game, not about what happened after on the floor, but no one heard that. No one listened, and you can't ever take it back."
A day later, Holloway tried to fix what he'd done, asking athletic director Mike Bobinski to allow him to take questions at a news conference, not merely read a statement. He said all the right things.
A month later, Holloway insists that he meant them.
"I understand what I did," he said. "And I'm sorry. I've said it. I don't know what else I can do."
EXCERPT:
What's wrong with Xavier probably can be best summed up in one Chris Mack exhortation from practice.
"C'mon, Tu," the coach yelled the day before the Musketeers hosted Saint Louis, "I want my tough guard back."
He's in there somewhere, lost in the maze of Holloway's mental anguish, paralyzed between humiliation and confusion and tangled up in a naive hope that, by playing like more of a pleaser than an aggressor, he'll change people's opinions.
"I think it all took some of the life out of me," Holloway said. "I know I need to get it back. I just don't know how. I'm thinking too much, way too much. To be great, you have to play with emotion and passion. I'm trying."...
"I know every word that I said and I understand the reaction, but I also know that, it might sound cliche, but that's what you talk about when you're playing, about being tough," he said. "When you're on the playground, if you're not tough, you don't play."
Except Xavier University is not a New York City playground; it is a proud Jesuit university.
And, after such reprehensible behavior from both teams, the only appropriate tone is absolute remorse.
Instead, the All-American who had never made a misstep, who had been so reliable that Xavier officials never even considered keeping him from meeting with the media, went wildly off course.
To anyone's ears, he sounded foolishly tough and hopelessly out of touch, proud of the mess he helped create instead of ashamed.
Holloway was genuinely stunned by the reaction, failing to realize how his words would be interpreted.
"It's so hard because it's words," Mack said. "You have to look at what he said. Most people didn't. They stopped after gangster. He made a point of saying this was about the game, not about what happened after on the floor, but no one heard that. No one listened, and you can't ever take it back."
A day later, Holloway tried to fix what he'd done, asking athletic director Mike Bobinski to allow him to take questions at a news conference, not merely read a statement. He said all the right things.
A month later, Holloway insists that he meant them.
"I understand what I did," he said. "And I'm sorry. I've said it. I don't know what else I can do."
