On the Road, Again and Again
For Presbyterian, the Route to Basketball Prominence Is Filled With Routs

By Adam Kilgore
Washington Post Staff Writer
Tuesday, February 5, 2008

CLINTON, S.C. Pat Kiscaden jogged toward the white Champion coach bus, his gray Presbyterian College hooded sweatshirt sagging off his shoulders. He had sprained his right ankle that morning and still practiced for two hours, but he felt great. For the first time since November, he had gone two weeks without sleeping in a hotel room.

Kiscaden hopped up three steps and a familiar face greeted him, someone he had seen about as often as his professors this season. He patted the bus driver on the shoulder and smiled. "Hey, Jeff, how you doing?" he asked. The two had eaten dinner together earlier this season on a trip to Coastal Carolina.

A school's decision to try to compete at a higher athletic level has many ramifications, from academics to finances. For Kiscaden and the Blue Hose, the most tangible result is this: They have spent more time on buses than any other team in the country this season, experimenting with a largely unprecedented schedule. In their first Division I season, they have played one road game after the next against elite teams in order to build a savings account for the future. They've already played 22 road games, and they have lost them all.

By the time the season ends, they will have played 25 road games and five at home, the most arduous slate in the country. A recent trip, five hours to Auburn, Ala., is like most of the others: A major conference opponent that pays Presbyterian gobs of money in exchange for an anticipated easy victory, called a "guarantee game." How else, Coach Gregg Nibert figured, could a 1,200-student liberal arts school make much headway in Division I?

"If we're going to get our heads beat in," Nibert said, "let's go for it."

The result has made Presbyterian a band of barnstormers, so accustomed to bus travel that its subtleties have turned routine. Kiscaden walked down the aisle and settled into seat 29A, his usual position, the kind of prime spot reserved for a senior. Younger players jostled for other prized seats.

"Why you sitting all the way up there?" Walt Allen shouted. "Why not come back here with the rest of us?"

"Man, the plan keeps changing," Odist Harmon said. "You want me to sit in the right-under-the-TV seat?"

As the bus traveled down I-385 south and players lobbied to watch "Good Luck Chuck" on DVD, they wondered if this trip would yield the win they'd been coveting.

The Blue Hose might have contended for the Division II championship this season, but the players say they don't regret moving to Division I. They savor walking into arenas where they've dreamed of playing, seeing "Presbyterian" flash on the ESPN scoreboard and thinking about what hasn't happened yet, but could.

"We're all stupid enough to think we can win," Kiscaden said.

A Man With a Plan

At 6 that morning, Nibert and two assistants sat in his office drinking coffee and orange juice, a McDonald's bag on the floor. They stared at the wide screen television, one of Auburn's previous games flickering in the darkness. Auburn's opponent made a turnover after a disjointed possession, and Nibert threw up his hands.

"They didn't even have a plan!" he said.

Nibert, 50, always has a plan. He envisions Presbyterian becoming the first No. 16 seed to win an NCAA tournament game in 2012, the first year Presbyterian will be eligible for the tournament after its five-year transition period ends. He arrived at Presbyterian 19 years ago, certain he would take the Blue Hose to the NAIA tournament. After he did, they moved to Division II and became a fixture in the top 25. He created a basketball camp for extra income, and it's now the largest in South Carolina. His wife stopped working years ago.

Once he sets his plan, Nibert enacts it with obsession. His son, Sean, plays tennis, so this summer they're flying to New York for the U.S. Open. He didn't test drive his 2006 Grand Cherokee before he bought it; he didn't have to. Last summer, he decided he wanted a pool. Construction began five days later. "Everything he does, he dives right in," Sean said. "Sometimes, he dives right in without thinking."

Nibert pushed Presbyterian to join Division I for years, ever since the administration first considered it in the late 1990s. Academically, President John Griffith felt Presbyterian offered a richer experience than regional competitors and thought of Presbyterian as a Colgate or Bucknell for the South. But Presbyterian still lost students to southern liberal arts schools such as Furman, Wofford or Davidson, and many in the administration reasoned the exposure and opportunity of Division I athletics facilitated that.

"It would be a mistake to focus on the guarantees as what's essential to the transition," Griffith said. "I think people are watching very carefully. It requires that we be ever more vigilant and affirming in our mission. You have to know that our internal core focuses on exactly what we're here for."

So in April 2006, after Athletic Director William Carlton sent the Division I application to the NCAA along with the $15,000 fee, Nibert pounced. One by one, the teams lined up. Georgia Tech called late and wanted to play on Jan. 6, even though Presbyterian was already playing at North Carolina State the day before.

"We couldn't turn down $50,000 and a chance to play an ACC team," Nibert said.

When Kiscaden saw the final schedule this summer, it shocked him. It showed games in 12 states against teams from 15 conferences that would require 13,000 miles of travel. He thought, "Man, this is crazy. We might not win a game." Carlton worried Presbyterian would be embarrassed.

Well, he had a plan. Last season, the Presbyterian basketball team generated roughly $3,000. This year, opponents paid the Blue Hose between $20,000 and $80,000 per game, totaling $650,000. Once Presbyterian enters the Big South Conference next season, Nibert will be able to afford the 13 scholarships he needs. He can remodel the basketball offices and weight room, turning them into relative shrines.

And despite the odds against him, Nibert said, "This is the most fun I've ever had coaching." The Blue Hose led North Carolina State by three at halftime. The next night at Georgia Tech, they trailed by two with less than four minutes remaining. They've won all three home games, against Radford, Army and Allen (S.C.); they sold out the 2,500-seat Furman Pinson Arena for the first time against Army. Some of the most recognizable coaches -- Paul Hewitt, Thad Matta, Oliver Purnell -- called time out to quell Presbyterian rallies.

Nibert smiled as he walked out to the gym for practice. His team waited for him, eager to learn how they could upset Auburn. And, like always, Nibert had a plan.

"If we're down by 10 points with five minutes left," he said, "we can win."

Sir Charles, and Flavor Flav

Presbyterian first walked into Beard-Eaves Memorial Coliseum for a shootaround. Al'Lonzo Coleman, a freshman center, paused while tying his shoes, glanced at the ceiling and whispered, "Charles Barkley." His oversize jersey hung from the rafters.

Memories of the season outweigh the losses, players say. After three games in California, a mechanical problem delayed their connecting flight from San Jose to Las Vegas on Dec. 23. An airline official promised they would hold the plane, and the team rushed to the terminal -- just in time to watch their plane take off.

They wouldn't arrive back in Clinton until late Christmas Eve, but the team resolved to make the most of Las Vegas. The airline gave them free hotel rooms and tickets to the buffet at the Wild Wild West casino. Coaches hit the Strip and players headed to a mall. Walking through, senior guard Ryan Lamb spotted the rapper Flavor Flav. They huddled around him and snapped pictures. "He was even shorter than me," said Lamb, who's 5 feet 8.

They traveled so often that all the cities blurred into one, long trip. Coaches forgot their hotel rooms numbers. Kiscaden lost a pair of glasses and a cellphone charger; he doesn't know where. Steven Yien Gatkuoth, a redshirt freshman, left a suit in New York. "We just try to tell to stories about stuff that happened," Kiscaden said. "And we have no idea where it happened."

When the five-minute mark passed, the Tigers led by 22. Coleman rubbed his chin on the bench, and Allen chewed on a towel. Nibert still patrolled the sidelines like a maniac. He made endless substitutions and screamed offensive plays, his voice so drained it sounded like a train whistle. Kiscaden swished a three-pointer, then another. Lamb made one, too, and suddenly a 14-0 run by Presbyterian hacked the lead to 10. Players on the bench leapt out of their chairs.

On this night, that was their win -- they knew anybody who saw, "Auburn 78, Presbyterian 65" on ESPN would be surprised, maybe even impressed.

Afterward, the players staggered back to the bus, bags slung over their shoulders. Boxes of sandwiches that Smith had ordered before the game awaited. Some of them had class in less than 12 hours, and they wouldn't arrive home until 3 a.m.

"That Jimmy John's?" point guard Pierre Miller said. "That stuff is whack. I remember that from Ohio State."

"Man, I think it's pretty good," Harmon said.

Miller grabbed his sandwich box, found his seat and waited for his teammates to join him. Kiscaden limped past, back to 29A. Nibert made sure everyone had boarded, then told Jeff they could leave. The bus rumbled out of the lot, five hours away from a home they would soon leave again.