Long-ago LSU underdog fit for latest uphill battle

  

Thirty-five years ago this month, LSU and Georgetown played a basketball game at the Superdome that former LSU coach Dale Brown said afterwards was ‘’one of the best college games I’ve ever been involved in.”

A national television audience watched the matchup that attracted 56,321 fans at the Superdome, setting a regular-season intercollegiate basketball attendance record that still stands. And unranked LSU upset the No. 2-ranked Hoyas, 82-80, as Ricky Blanton banked in the winning basket at game’s end. Sensational freshman guard Chris Jackson scored 26 points to lead the Tigers, but it was another LSU guard – a sophomore walk-on named Dennis Tracey – whose hustle and strong defense played a pivotal role in the victory.

I reminisce about this Jan. 28, 1989 game to remind folks of an era when men’s basketball was a big, big deal at LSU, and when walk-ons like Tracey could live out a dream that could be on the silver screen as a college basketball version of “Rudy.” In the clash against mighty Georgetown, which had ended the Tigers’ season the previous year with a 66-63 victory in the first round of the NCAA Tournament, Tracey had a tough task. He had to guard sharpshooter Charles Smith, and he pestered him and shadowed him and limited his effectiveness, especially in the second half.

Tracey played high school basketball at DeLaSalle in New Orleans when the Cavs won the state title in 1986. He played in junior college and then at UNO for a semester, but he “wanted to play with the big boys” so he enrolled at LSU. He intended to try out for the basketball team. Yet, when he found out there would be no open try-out, in desperation he wrote a three-page letter to Coach Brown, pleading for a chance to play for LSU and telling him “I can contribute to your team and help you guys have success.”

He gave the letter, with his girlfriend’s phone number on it, to a girl he knew who could put it in Coach Brown’s hands and begged her to make sure it got to him.

The next day he was with his girlfriend, and a call came in from Coach Brown. He told him he read his letter, and he wanted him to “start practice tomorrow at 3:30 sharp.”

Tracey showed up as told, made the team and became a starter, playing in the 1988-89 and ’89-90 seasons. He had some other heroic efforts from other games as a never-say-die hustler.

He didn’t drop off the map or run afoul of the law, as some athletes do after hanging up their uniforms.

After his college basketball career, Tracey served as the personal liaison for Shaquille O’Neal for about four years in the 1990s, which enabled him to travel around the world. Then he returned to LSU and got two post-graduate degrees, with help from Coach Brown. After his parting with Shaq, Tracey said in an interview a few years ago, he “went from having a million friends to having about two, and Dale was one of them.” Brown helped him pay for his books.

One of Tracey’s post-graduate degrees was as a medical doctor, and even though he doesn’t practice medicine, Tracey is considered a major player in the biomedical industry. In June of this year, he got some publicity in a televised news report about the role his company in New Orleans, Big Easy Medical, was having in the development of “The Morph.” This is a device temporarily planted behind a person’s ear that can help curb an opioid addiction.

“It’s the fix that everyone wants to cure this opioid addiction problem we’re dealing with,” Tracey said in the report. Tracey’s company is helping to distribute the device, pitching it as an alternative to opioids for medical professionals. His Big Easy Medical is one of only two companies in the country doing this, he said.

It appears the same drive and hustle and determination that earned him recognition and praise as a walk-on basketball player have helped him contribute to society. Not to mention the credit he gives to Coach Brown, who twice helped him achieve his goals.

I guess we can conclude that the fellow once described as “a hound dog in sneakers” has done well as an overachiever.