San Diego- A mother woke up in the morning, and the police dogs were sniffing for a bomb on television. The basketball arena where her son, Air Force senior Antoine Hood, was scheduled to play an NCAA Tournament game had been locked down. Security threat.
As if we needed one more reminder that a dangerous world works overtime to make us all paranoid.
“I’m not scared. Not at all,” Vanassa Hood said. “Because I pray every day. I don’t miss.”
This is not a story about basketball. It’s about conquering fear.
Air Force, a 24-win team that hoops experts dissed for being undeserving of a tourney bid, did go out and dance with Illinois on Thursday night.
The Falcons lost 78-69. But, sometimes, numbers fail to tell the whole tale.
“We silenced the haters,” said Antoine Hood, who kept scratching, clawing and chasing the ball until the final seconds, long after the game’s outcome was decided.
Fear is nothing except the body cleansing itself of doubt.
Hood learned to be brave from his mother.
Shortly after 9 a.m., Cox Arena had been shut down by a bomb scare. A strange package near a concession stand had aroused suspicions. Fans were prevented from entering the arena.
Everybody was on edge, maybe because the nation had been warned only a week earlier of Internet chatter regarding unconfirmed threats against sporting events in America.
“My teammates and I were flipping through the channels on the TV at the hotel, and we see the arena with people standing outside,” Hood said. “Now that was a little different.”
The bomb threat proved to be all scare, no substance. What was in the threatening package?
“Spoiled mustard,” Illinois forward James Augustine speculated, making a joke at paranoia’s expense.
For decades, basketball at the Air Force was defined by fear of failure. The game built character. Which was a polite way of saying the Falcons stunk.
After earning two trips to the NCAA tourney in three years, what the program has won is faith in itself.
Or, as Hood put it: “Why not Air Force?”
Walking down a back hallway of the arena after the season-ending defeat, Air Force coach Jeff Bzdelik, still wired by the competitive juices, lamented that Illinois had too many weapons to stop.
But then he smiled. The Falcons had shown no fear. When Bzdelik informed his team that the bomb scare would delay tipoff by more than an hour,players shrugged.
“It gave them more time to grab a bite to eat before the game,” Bzdelik said. “And these are kids who are so resilient, they just feel lucky if they get fed. I remember on a trip to Utah earlier this year, there was no hot water for showers. And I got very upset. But they told me: ‘Coach, don’t worry about it. This is a little thing. We’ll get through it.”‘
On the eve of the opening-round game, Illinois coach Bruce Weber dismissed the idea that the Falcons could be intimidated by his formidable team, only one season removed from the Final Four.
“These are guys who a long time ago decided to devote their lives to the academy, to protect their country,” Weber said. “Two years from now, they might be somewhere like Iraq or Afghanistan. I don’t think their fear factor is quite the same as some other teams.”
Vanassa Hood sent two sons to a military academy. In a dangerous world, it’s more than a commitment to service. It’s an acceptance of risk.
“I don’t worry that it’s a dangerous world. I sleep good every night,” said the mother of two Air Force athletes. “I tell my sons that when you fly into trouble, the Lord is going to be at your side on the way in, and be there for you on the way out.”
After scoring 17 points in his final college game, as he was forced from the court with his fifth foul, Antoine Hood was greeted by Bzdelik with a hug and words whispered in the ear.
All Bzdelik really wanted to say was thanks.
Hood, who won more games in his career than any other player in Air Force’s basketball history, taught the Falcons there is no reason to be afraid of success.
Staff writer Mark Kiszla can be reached at 303-820-5438 or mkiszla@denverpost.com.
