Farewell to Looie

You thought I would omit the classic photo of Looie and John Thompson? Photo: Queens Chronicle

This was in a restaurant – Italian, I as I recall – in Louisville, Ky., early in 1972. 
This was when Lou Carnesecca bared his soul to me, in that raspy voice, pure NewYorkese.
We were both a long way from home, pursuing our vocations. My family was living in Louisville, but as my wife will attest, I spent much of my time as a news reporter in coal towns in Appalachia.

Carnesecca had stayed home – coaching the New York Nets in the American Basketball Association, but essentially out of his groove in that young professional league.

I had been aware of the bouncy little coach for decades. We had a family friend who aspired to play for Carnesecca at the old St. Ann’s Academy on the East Side of Manhattan, but the friend had to work a job after school to help support his mom. 
Then Carnesecca and St. Ann’s moved to Queens, where it became Archbishop Molloy. My brother Peter was playing on the Molloy junior varsity and he told tales of the little head coach who wielded a broom in practice.
Years later, when I knew Carnesecca better, I said to him, “You hit my brother with a broom.”  Looie looked offended, both hands extended. No, no, no, he said. He had held up a broom to get the players to put more arc on their shots – no line drives at the basket. Okay.
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(Update from Peter Vecsey himself:)
George, I was a freshman. We often practiced in the park across the street from Molloy, because the varsity & jv had first dibs on the immaculate new gym that St John’s occasionally used for several years until their gym was built. Lou would show up sometimes and use the broom, as he attests, as a defender to improve the arc on our jump shots. HOWEVER, if we missed a layup when doing that line drill, he’d (try to) smack us on the ass with the broom. 
(If I may brag on Peter, he later was a valuable sub on Jack Curran's good varsity teams, and was a long-time player in the Rucker tournament uptown. GV)  
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GV: I also ran into Carnesecca as a tiny baseball umpire when I was the student publicist for Hofstra at a game at Brooklyn College. He was behind home plate, also calling shots to the outfield. Our guys were under the impression he did not see the ball very well, but in those days a high-school coach needed a side job to earn extra bucks.  I respected him mightily for being there.

Then Looie moved to St, John’s as an assistant coach, and his career took off – lavishly documented in the NYT and elsewhere on this sad day, now that Looie has passed, just short of his 100th birthday on Jan. 5.

His career included the American Basketball Association, a challenger to the NBA. The New York Nets, playing on Long Island, were a contender when they came to play the Kentucky Colonels in 1972. I came in off the road to write about the game and also to visit my Noo Yawk sports roots. The night before the game, some writers went out to dinner with Looie. He sat next to me, and in his hoarse sotto voce, he began essentially a monologue, full of melancholia. From him to me.
I don’t recall the words but I do recall the point: “This is not for me. I’m not going to do this anymore.” He was homesick for the college game, persuading talented kids from the Metro area that they wanted to play at home.

I did not write Looie’s little chat. That was private. Perhaps he sensed that I missed New York, also. (I played hoops on Tuesday evenings in a gym in Louisville, and on the drive home I heard Marv Albert call Knicks games, clear as a bell in the night air.) Whatever the reason for his revelation, Looie followed through, and went back to St, John’s in 1972-73. By that time I had arranged to come home, as a news reporter.  

These were great years for Looie and St. John’s. He charmed people with his gaudy sweaters and his projected concern for “the kids.” Speaking to the national media, he would semi-whisper his endorsement of New York pizza: “It’s the water,” he would confide.
Looie was the soul of Big East basketball, even though John Thompson and Patrick Ewing dominated that magnificent era.

One year, Looie of St, John’s and Jim Valvano of North Carolina  State, both with roots in Queens County, qualified for the NCAA tournament. I described them as “Two Gentlemen from Corona.”
Vee won a title one year. Looie never did.
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Even when he retired, Carnesecca remained the soul of the city game.
Of course he spoke Italian, and when I bumped into him, I would call him “Consigliere,” with proper Italian respect.

I would see him in the late, lamented Dante’s, on Union Turnpike, situated between Jamaica High and the St, John’s campus. Looie would introduce me to whoever his companions were. He lived nearby – perhaps the most respected denizen of Jamaica Estates.
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When Gus Alfieri, one of the great student-athletes of St. John’s, wrote a book about coach Joe Lapchick and the championship years, Gus made it clear that Looie had done a lot of good coaching to back up Lapchick.
Looie lasted a long time. Brought dignity to his school, to Queens, to hoops.
Addio, Consigliere.

https://www.nytimes.com/2024/11/30/sports/basketball/lou-carnesecca-dead.html
 
https://www.sports-reference.com/cbb/coaches/lou-carnesecca-1.html

An appreciation of Looie from Jay Horwitz, longtime heart and soul of the NY Mets: 
 https://metsinsider.mlblogs.com/rip-lou-carnesecca-03009747f556