A Father’s Prophecy
“Wait Till You See My Boy”

By: Peter Finney

After a long battle with cancer, Press Maravich would die in his son’s arms. Nine months later, Pistol Pete would die playing basketball.

It had been a tender-stormy relationship between two strong-willed Serbians, a relationship touched by temper tantrums, but bounded by love.

“Listen, you little SOB,” Press would scream during an LSU timeout, “I’m the coach and don’t you forget.”

Pistol never did, really, not deep down. As far as X – and – O basketball went, Pete felt Press hung the moon. As far as offensive skills were concerned – passing, dribbling, shooting – Press felt Pete was in a class of one.

“Wait till you see my boy,” Press announced on his first swing through Louisiana after being named LSU coach.

You wondered why a father would put the hat on his son, especially a son with anything but an enviable athletic build.

When Baton Rouge and the rest of the SEC finally got a look at the Pistol, what they saw was a gangly, angular kid with a pipe-cleaner frame. Here was someone who played basketball with a pained expression, with a blend of jazz and classical music, with an apparent air of nonchalance.

Pete’s one-handed jumper was graceful enough, but it looked a little like a two-handed set since Pete placed his left hand to the side – instead of beneath – the basketball.
The looping one-handers and sweeping hooks – right and left – represented the Pistol’s classic side. The jazz came when Pete turned passer, when you suddenly saw a feeder dish the ball off the dribble, behind his back, over his head, through his legs, doing it at full throttle, in the blink of an eye.

Wall-to-wall vision enabled Pete to size up the defense and anticipate his move, sometimes slipping the ball through traffic, sometimes faking the pass and tossing up a double-pump jumper.

It was magic. It also was instinctive, inventive, incredible.

It was the kind of show that began filling up arenas all over the SEC. There was the evening Kentucky fans packed the place on Pete’s final visit to Lexington. The Pistol responded with a shot from the corner, launched as he was trapped and most of his torso was beyond the end line. When the shot fell through, Wildcat fans were on their feet with a standing ovation.

However, nothing topped the showtime moment when Pete closed out his junior season against Georgia in Athens. The Tigers would win, 90-80, in double overtime, but that wasn’t the story.

Pete scored 24 of his team’s 29 points, including 13 straight to erase a 15-point Georgia lead. After it ended, 72-72 in regulation, the Bulldogs had a two-point lead in the first overtime when Pete tied it six seconds before the buzzer. In the second five-minute session, Pete went on a tear as LSU built an 88-80 lead with the final seconds ticking away.

With the Tigers controlling on the freeze, Pete drove the baseline, dribbling past the basket, then continuing toward the LSU bench.

“When Pete got near the sideline,” recalled assistant coach Jay McCreary, “There were only a few seconds left. Pete looked up at the clock, still dribbling to check the time. Then he lets go with a 30-foot hook. As soon as it left his hands, I knew it was in.”

Tiger guard Rich Hickman had a ringside seat. “Pete didn’t even look back,” said Hickman. “He was holding up his hands as the ball went through the net. You had to be there. Those Georgia fans went bananas. They came out of the stands. They ran after Pete who was running straight for the locker room. They kept screaming, ‘Pistol, Pistol, Pistol.’ You’ve never seen anything like it. And you never will.