Playing basketball at Beloit College is one of the most impactful experiences of my life.
Bill Knapton, the ever-graceful coach, served as a second father figure to me. Friendships formed there still flourish. The work ethic needed to try to uphold the history that preceded us created strong habits for the future.
That’s what I felt while playing there---history. Freshman year started with the Chicago Bulls---and a young Michael Jordan---holding training camp at the old fieldhouse because of the springy floor. Immediately, Knapton’s presence signaled a long line of accomplishment, from the 1981 team that held the national No. 1 ranking in Division III to his prominent role on the National Association of Basketball Coaches rules committee.
When Knapton changed his vote on the 3-point shot between my sophomore and junior seasons, we had a fun new weapon to take into the new Sports Center.
Knapton followed Dolph Stanley, and I became enamored with learning all I could about the “Bucket Brigade” era. For my senior thesis at Beloit, I visited Stanley in Rockford, Ill. and prominent players like Ron Bontemps in Peoria and Johnny Orr in Ames, Iowa. Interviewing and writing about these figures was a powerful experience.
More often than not, I’d ride shotgun as Knapton drove one of the two vans across the Midwest, soaking up his stories. His recall for past games and players was uncanny, particularly since he could be so absent-minded otherwise.
His 40-year run created a continuum of Beloit basketball, with players returning for alumni games and creating genuine relationships with other players from different eras. I looked at players like Mark Smith, an All-American from the 1981 team, and John Erikson as larger-than-life figures.
Knapton’s motion offense was a thing of beauty. Pass and pick away. Perhaps slip the screen or back cut. Read the defense. Always be in motion. Share the ball. Opponents knew it was coming, had scouted it for years and still couldn’t stop it because it predicated itself on ball and player movement and reading the defense. It’s so simple and yet so lethal.
My senior season, we won the Midwest Conference championship. I’ll never forget the week of practice leading up to the home game against our archrival, Ripon College. Knapton had scouted them and noticed a new defensive wrinkle he felt he could exploit.
Sure enough, on the game’s very first possession, our point guard drove baseline and I, on the opposite side, fanned out to the corner as the defense rotated to the ballhandler. That point guard, John Tharp, kicked it to me for a baseline jumper. Off we went to another victory.
Knapton always made you feel more prepared than your opponent. He was both a gentleman and a fierce competitor, prone to some sideline antics that are still shared and laughed at with great gusto when former players gather.
The history of Beloit College basketball is a rich one. I’m proud to have played a small part in it, and prouder still to call Knapton, one of the most influential figures in it, a close friend.
K.C. Johnson's Piece on Dolph Stanley
One of the first things anyone noticed upon meeting Dolph Stanley was his voice.
Deep and elegant, it commanded respect in much the same way Stanley demanded hard work and discipline from his players.
“He was an incredible coach, a great motivator,” Ron Bontemps, one of his star players, said in a 1989 interview.
Stanley presided over the most successful run in Beloit College basketball history, alienating some opponents while galvanizing a community. His relentless style pushed the tiny school into the sport’s national consciousness, creating a golden age that never can be matched.
No longer could such a small, Division III liberal arts college take its place on the grandest stage of all, Madison Square Garden, as Stanley’s Beloit Buccaneers did in a 1951 first-round matchup against Seton Hall. Stanley’s era, which produced six conference championships while utilizing a suffocating defensive and pass-heavy offense, also featured games at the famed Cow Palace in San Francisco and Chicago Stadium.
“He made us into the team we were with his knowledge of the game,” said Don Sudkamp, another of his starters.
Stanley arrived at Beloit in 1945 from Taylorville (Ill.) High, where he coached Bontemps, future Michigan and Iowa State coach Johnny Orr and other stalwarts who followed him to Beloit. Doubling as athletic director, one of Stanley’s first moves was to convince Beloit president Carey Croneis that he needed a better facility.
Stanley didn’t care much for Smith Gym, a cramped facility with beams and support systems cluttering the ceiling. On a trip to St. Louis, he stumbled upon an Army Surplus store that sold old armory buildings. He convinced President Croneis to purchase and renovate one at considerable expense.
“Once we got the damn thing built,” Stanley said in a 1989 interview, “it was packed every cotton pickin’ night for 12 years.”
The fervor that Stanley’s teams created within the Beloit community moved beyond wins and losses. His style of play featured innovations like a suffocating press and pick-and-roll offensive actions, while his no-nonsense coaching demeanor created a disciplined team that built school and community pride.
“I never believed in getting up and waving your arms, parading around. That’s poor leadership,” Stanley said in 1989. “You do your work during the week. Why do you have to get up and start yelling during the game?”
A mere show of a fist called for a man-to-man press, while an open hand dictated a zone press. Some nights, opponents rarely could get the ball across half-court. Such was the relentlessness of Stanley’s players, their instincts well-honed from exacting practice after exacting practice.
“It’s no surprise that so many of us are successful today,” Orr said in a 1989 interview. “Dolph was strict as hell, but good. He earned respect and wanted us to be good players and good citizens.”
Beloit won, and won a lot. They routinely reached 100 points, creating blowout scores that bordered on embarrassment for opponents.
“I was criticized and it took me a long time to come up with an answer,” Stanley said in 1989. “But the answer is this: Are you going to penalize guys who train and keep in shape and can go like crazy for 32 minutes?”
Nevertheless, following Beloit’s appearance in the 1951 National Invitational Tournament in New York, Midwest Conference athletic directors voted to kick the school out for not acting in the spirit of the conference.
“It was a sad time. We were as wholesome as wholesome could be,” Stanley said. “All I could tell the directors was you, too, could achieve what Beloit did. But only if they worked.”
Stanley stayed at Beloit for another six seasons, but some disillusionment creeped into his work. Knowing the school wouldn’t return to the Midwest Conference unless he left, Stanley and new president Miller Upton began meeting about his future. Eventually, Stanley left to become athletic director at Drake University.
That career move was short-lived, though. He quickly returned to high school coaching, guiding both Rockford Auburn and Rockford Boylan to IHSA “Sweet 16” appearances.
Born on Jan. 23, 1905, in Marion, Ill., Stanley developed his love for basketball while playing at Marion High and University of Illinois, from which he graduated in 1930. While selling refrigerators after his graduation, Stanley returned to his hometown and the principal of Equality (Ill.) High asked the principal of Stanley’s school for coaching candidates.
Stanley received an interview, aced it and promptly took Equality to the Illinois High School Association tournament. Of the six Illinois high school teams that Stanley coached, five qualified for the IHSA state quarterfinals. The 1944 Taylorville team that featured Bontemps, who later won a gold medal at the 1952 Olympics, and Orr posted a 45-0 mark and remains in the conversation for one of the all-time greats in the state’s rich prep history.
Nicknamed the “Silver Fox,” Stanley dressed impeccably, a pipe often stuck in his mouth. He loved to fish and his post-retirement home in Rockford featured little basketball paraphernalia. But his coaching acumen created a lasting legacy that still holds sway today.
“I only want to be remembered as someone who gave a lot of happiness to a lot of people,” Stanley said in 1989.
By K.C. Johnson, Class of 1989
