Frozen in Time

My intent on this late summer afternoon is to take Reuben Shelton back 48 years, to a past time when for the retired lawyer a free throw mattered and a writ of habeas corpus was just a vague question on a civics test. I show him a black and white photo, Reuben Shelton and Drew Rogers, frozen for all time in the biggest contest either will ever play in, Northwest High vs. Kirkwood High, St. Louis Kiel Auditorium, March 8, 1972. The stylish confidence of both jumps out from the photo sitting amongst our salad plates, napkins and lunch drinks. Both of the lanky teens ooze with the measurably quality any 1970’s teenage boy strove for, the cool factor. Shelton with the perfectly symmetric Afro hair style, Rogers with the blow-dried long curls covering his ears and cascading over the collar. Both are, obviously, young Alpha Males. If only life would remain so clearly defined.

I ask Shelton what thoughts race into his mind when he sees the image. He smiles and says it is the location and positioning of his hands in his defensive stance. A voice seared into his memory shoots through his thoughts, he says. “I can hear Coach Bailey in my head right now, ‘boy, you can’t play defense with your hands down. Hands Up!!’ Good times, man, those were some good times.”

I ask Drew Rogers, also a lunch time guest, the same questions. “Wow, Rogers says, “this really takes me back.” He immediately, as Shelton did, became analytical. “I am not squared up to the basket, like we teach post players today.   I was really good at pump faking and getting a defender off of his feet. But look at Rueben. He is locked in on me. I remember he played the best defensive game anyone that year ever played against me. I was never a scoring factor that night, because of Reuben. He was just so cool, just like he looked in the picture. I never got him off of his feet. My other move on the post was to shoot a quick falling-away jump shot. I would release it quickly, on the way going up. Reuben shut that move down as well. He was such a quick jumper. I had a good night rebounding, but we were lucky that Robert (Williams) and Bill (Moulder) picked up the scoring because I did not score much that night.” Rogers finished with 9 points on 3-12 shooting from the field. He also finished with 15 rebounds and arguably the most famous assist in the history of St. Louis high school basketball.

Reunited for the first time since 1972, 48 years since the playing of what many have called the greatest game in the history of St. Louis area high school basketball, Kirkwood's Drew Rogers shows he has improved his post up position but Ruben Shelton of Northwest is still not buying the ball fake. All that was missing was the 9,000 fans (and the 40,000 others who claimed they were there) in Kiel Auditorium on March 8, 1972. A great lunch that was almost surreal as the years faded away. It was  heartwarming to watch the two long ago rivals reminisce and catch up.

But, back to the 1972 picture, both are oblivious to the 9,000 rabid fans in attendance, an out of focus background blur in the photo. Both Rogers and Shelton are isolated  on an island with each other. They are two young warriors at the peak of life, deadly stares locked in. Rogers has the ball, body creating space from Shelton who is deep into his defensive crouch. Shelton’s body is coiled for action as he gazes into the eyes of his opponent. Rogers is looking to score, Shelton set to spring into shot blocking mode. The next move and the ball belong to Rogers. He is sizing up his adversary. A pump fake to get Shelton off his feet? A quick fall away jump shot over the lunging Northwest star? An up and under move and attack to the rim, perhaps with a foul on Shelton as a bonus? Or, maybe Rogers should concede this one time, reset the offense with a kickout pass to a teammate in a white Kirkwood jersey: The Thrill or Sugar Bear or Prime Time or The Rock, all out of the picture but assuredly into their own personal battles with the other four blue jersey Northwest players. And where is Shelton’s teammate, Hercle Ivy? Is the future NBA star leaving his own man, sliding into help Shelton on Rogers? We will never know.

Although both players have taken on statuesque poses, remember this is a frame freeze. Within the brutally hard-fought contest, both teams will continue flailing away mightily at the other as they sprint to the game’s conclusion. Winner to the state final four, the loser goes home. The stakes are high. 

In a millisecond the game returns to a blur of action, the picture now rudimentary. The ball and the players ricochet off each other, the passion of the contest driving the packed Kiel Auditorium to a pitch of frenzy destined for an ugly ending.  It is good for the imagination that the conclusion of this momentary standoff has been lost to time. Neither Rogers nor Shelton can today recall this possession. Understandable. There were hundreds, maybe thousands, of just such one-on-one duels between players in that evenings 32 minutes of fevered action.

Shelton and Rogers would both move out of this still shot and beyond this school kid game to become the successful adults they are today; Shelton is a corporate lawyer and the first African American President of the St. Louis Bar Association while Rogers is a successful corporate sales manager and a writer of distinction.

But adult life can wait. We stop now and relish this simple black and white photo from 48 years ago. The distinct and sweeping power in this monochromatic image perfectly embeds the moment for all time.  Basketball is full of trash-talk and posturing - false attempts to impress peers and foes alike- a phony pretense used to prop up self-esteem. But at a time like this, all are stripped away in a “winner take all” moment. It is Shelton vs. Rogers; show me what you got, one shot at forever.