U.S. Still Smarts Over Basketball Defeat by Soviets 25 Years Later

He was a little groggy. His wrist hurt, too. Yet Doug Collins’ pain, with three seconds left in the basketball final at the Munich Olympics, was nothing compared with what he and his teammates were about to experience.

There was a Cold War, an Iron Curtain and a Berlin Wall. There was a war in Vietnam and unrest on campuses across the United States.

And even as Collins tried to clear his head at the free-throw line, mourners gathered outside the Olympic village apartment house that Arab terrorists had stormed days earlier. In all, 11 Israeli athletes, five attackers and a German police officer were killed.

“There was so much political significance to those Olympics,” says Collins, now coach of the Detroit Pistons. “It was a lot more than just a basketball game.”

The Soviet and U.S. teams both were 8-0 heading into what would become one of the most controversial games in international sports history, on Sept. 10, 1972.

A game seemingly won by the United States, after Collins hit two foul shots for a 50-49 lead, ended in a Soviet victory when officials twice made the teams replay the final three seconds. A full-court pass and a layup gave the Soviets the gold medal.

“We felt like we were robbed,” Bobby Jones says, using a phrase the U.S. players have repeated for 25 years. “It was kind of a shock, really. We were kind of young. We had never experienced anything like that.”

While it ended U.S. dominance of Olympic basketball, the loss was the first step toward allowing the best athletes--amateur or professional--into the world’s biggest sports event. The Dream Teams of the last two Olympics were direct results of the runner-up finish in Munich.

The 1972 U.S. team may have been young, but it also had talent. Most were 20 and Kenny Davis, an AAU player from the Marathon Oil team, was the oldest at 23. The youngest Soviet was 21 and most were veteran Red Army players.

A U.S. men’s team had never lost an Olympic basketball game; the winning streak was at 62. Still, it was clear from the outset that the Soviets would not be pushovers. They started the game with a 7-0 run and led 26-21 at halftime.

“It was a dream come true, just to make the team,” says Tom Burleson, a center from North Carolina State. “It is still the highlight of my athletic career, even though we did win an NCAA championship and I played pro ball.

“It was really something to play for your country, especially at that time,” says Burleson, now a businessman in his hometown in Newland, N.C. “Communism was in full swing. It was us against them.”

And that battle got ugly with 12:18 left in the game.

Dwight Jones, the U.S. team’s top scorer and rebounder, got into a scuffle with Soviet reserve Dvorni Edeshko over a loose ball. Both were ejected. The Soviets held a 38-34 lead.

On the ensuing jump ball, Jim Brewer, a powerful forward from Minnesota, was knocked to the floor. Brewer, now an assistant coach with the Los Angeles Clippers, left the game with a concussion.

At about that time, Kevin Joyce, a guard from South Carolina University, was growing increasingly agitated on the bench.

“We were down 10 points with about 10 minutes to go,” says Joyce, now a Wall Street stockbroker. “I kept yelling at the coaches to get me in the damn game.”

Head coach Hank Iba, from Oklahoma State, finally listened. The cocky kid from North Merrick, N.Y., was sent back out on the court.

“I made a couple of steals and fed the ball to Doug,” Joyce says. “We rallied the boys.”

Jim Forbes, a forward out of Texas-El Paso, hit a jumper with 40 seconds left to cut the Soviets’ lead to 49-48.

The Soviets worked the clock down to 10 seconds, but 6-11 Tom McMillen blocked Aleksander Belov’s shot and Collins intercepted a pass as Belov attempted to flip the ball back out to midcourt.

Collins, a guard out of Illinois State, drove to the basket but was undercut as he attempted a layup with three seconds left. He went down hard, slid across the hardwood and slammed his head on the basket’s support. He then had to get up and shoot two foul shots.

“I had sort of fallen on my wrist,” Collins says. “I was also a little dazed. I was knocked out for a second. It’s probably a good thing, though, because I lost all sense of the pressure.”

Still, pressure seemed to be what Collins lived for. If there was one man who had to make two clutch free throws for an entire nation, almost everyone agreed they would want Collins at the line.

“Doug was kind of our leader. He is a very confident guy,” says Bobby Jones, now athletic director and basketball coach at Charlotte Christian School in North Carolina.

Collins hit the first one. The game was tied. Just as Collins was letting go of the second shot, the horn sounded. But the ball dropped through the net. The U.S. team led 50-49 with three seconds left.

Then things got crazy.

The Soviets in-bounded the ball but failed to score. The U.S. players began a wild celebration, yelling and hugging.

However, one official claimed he had whistled play to stop with one second left after hearing the earlier horn and seeing a disturbance near the scorer’s table.

The Soviets argued they had called a timeout before the free throws by Collins. The referees ordered three seconds put back on the clock. The game wasn’t over, after all.

“Tom Henderson was livid,” Burleson recalls. “Mike Bantom was kind of a discreet livid. He kept saying, ‘I can’t believe they’re doing this to us.’ Iba was the coolest of them all under fire. He kept his emotions under control. When you’ve got five guys shouting at the scorer’s table, he was probably the calmest voice.”

Maybe there were too many voices. Maybe Iba was too calm.

The referees, for whatever reason, put the ball in play as the clock was being reset. The Soviets threw a desperation full-court pass, it missed its mark and the horn sounded again. The U.S. players resumed their celebration.

Just then, William Jones, secretary general of FIBA, basketball’s international governing body, came out of the stands and ordered the clock reset again. Officials put three ticks back on the clock and ordered the players back out onto the court. Yet again.

“He had no right to do that at all. That was a farce,” Joyce says.

McMillen covered Ivan Edeshko as he got ready to inbound the ball. The referees ordered McMillen to back away. He did, and Edeshko threw a long pass toward Belov, who was covered by Joyce and Forbes.

“They kept yelling at me to get off the ball or they’d call a technical foul,” says McMillen, who played in the NBA and served three terms as a Democratic congressman from Maryland. “I had to get off the ball.”

Belov sent Joyce and Forbes sprawling as he caught the ball at the foul line. He then drove to the basket for an easy layup.

“If that didn’t work, they probably would have given them another one,” Joyce says. “That’s the way it was going.”

Final: USSR 51, USA 50.

“We were celebrating, then we were rushed back out on the floor,” Collins says. “Each official spoke a different language. We were rushed back on the floor. We didn’t have time to talk about what we were going to do.”

Officials for the U.S. team filed a protest but it was rejected.

“We were denied the victory, and that just made it hard to accept,” Burleson says. “Especially at that time. That was the last time for an open Olympics. After that, it was all security and politics.”

The U.S. players refused to accept their silver medals, which are still locked in an International Olympic Committee vault in Switzerland. The players don’t seem to miss them.

“I don’t need the medal. I don’t want the medal,” Burleson says. “Time heals all wounds. As a Christian, I can’t hold any animosity, but it still hurts.”

So, perhaps it wasn’t a devastating experience. But it did leave a bitter aftertaste that will never go away.

“Maybe it was a lot to do with it being the first loss and all,” Burleson says. “We were the USA, we were Naismith, we invented basketball. Maybe we lost some of the cinnamon and apple pie. I don’t know.”

Says Collins: “It was a horrible ending to a wonderful experience. I’m not going to let the ending affect the rest of my life.”

Joyce says he received a call recently from a Russian TV crew working on a documentary.

“That ought to be interesting,” he says with a chuckle. “Nothing against the Russian players. They had nothing to do with it. Our gold was taken away by a committee.”