THE LAST DAYS OF A VIRGINIA GENTLEMAN: A Tribute to My Dad on My First Father’s Day
“What is a Wahoo?”
I was 20 years old, a lifelong University of Virginia fan, and this question had never crossed my mind. The concept was just engrained into my head from an early age.
Wa-hoo-wa.
Go Hoos.
I knew we were the Cavaliers. I knew we were not Wahoo fish. Otherwise, I did not give it much thought. That is, until a news reporter at the 2002 ACC Men’s Basketball Tournament posed the question to fans walking toward the Charlotte Coliseum.
Arthur Howard Friedman (“Art”), my dad and one of the most loyal fans in UVA sports history, answered the reporter quickly and confidently, without breaking stride.
“A Virginia Gentleman,” he said with a smile.
Neither of us looked back at the reporter or his cameraman. I am sure Dad would have made the local news if he had stopped for an interview, but he was more concerned with getting into the arena to watch warmups.
If a Wahoo is, in fact, a Virginia Gentleman, then my dad was a Wahoo through and through. Art was humble, kind, and did good deeds with no expectation of reward or recognition. He treated everyone with dignity and respect. More than anything, I will remember how often my dad told me to treat people the way that I wanted to be treated.
Art would be the first to admit that he was the second-smartest twin in his family, but he too possessed a formidable intellectual prowess, and my dad and his brother Ed both enrolled at the University of Virginia in the Fall of 1966. Dad would bleed orange and blue for the next 52 years and beyond.
My dad endured an immeasurable amount of heartache from UVA sports, but he never wavered in his allegiance to the Hoos. He experienced the highlights of Ralph Sampson, Bryant Stith, Dawn Staley, the very respectable George Welsh years of football, and many national championships from lower-revenue sports such as lacrosse, soccer, tennis, and baseball, but witnessing sustained success in football and basketball eluded him for most of his life.
When I was in high school and college, my dad would often record UVA games on the VCR and only watch the recording if the Hoos won the game. He used to tell my brother Dave and me, “I don’t want to know the score until the game is over.” Art knew that the old Virginia teams could find seemingly impossible ways to lose close games or blow huge leads, and for about a decade, his blood pressure simply could not handle the live games. Even while watching a recording, despite knowing that UVA had won the game, he would relentlessly yell at the referees. Thinking about it brings a smile to my face.
March 2014
My dad was a loyal fan accustomed to watching mediocrity, so imagine his pure joy in observing the Tony Bennett era in Charlottesville evolve from uncertainty to progress to building a program that lasts. Coach Bennett was in his fifth year in 2013-14, improving the team’s record every season of his tenure. By March 2014, Bennett had the Hoos in the national spotlight and on the verge of their first ACC Tournament title since 1976.
Dad, Dave, our friend (and UVA alum) Alex, Alex’s dad Eric, and I watched the entire 2014 ACC Tournament together, and by the Finals we were so superstitious that we had to sit in the same seats on the couch and wear the same clothes as the previous day. Alex even made his buffalo chicken dip three days in a row because, in our minds, UVA was surely going to lose if we changed anything. The Championship victory over Duke is one of the best memories of my life.
Success in March Madness would elude the Hoos for several more years, which only exacerbated the guarded expectations of longtime fans who always expected to lose important games despite the newfound success of the program. My dad and I always found claims that Tony Bennett’s system is “not built to win in March” to be insulting. Ultimately, we were proven right, but Dad was not there to see it.
September 2016
There is no way to describe the gut punch of finding out that your father has been diagnosed with lung cancer. We all knew that the next few months and years (if we were lucky) were going to be brutal. UVA sports, and especially basketball, were our outlet. A typical phone call with my dad after the diagnosis would consist of a brief update on his chemo treatments and how he was feeling, but the majority of the call was about Virginia basketball – the recruiting class, the Hoos in the NBA, whether next year could be the year that we make the Final Four.
Since his death, every time UVA basketball wins a big game, signs a star recruit, or makes the national news, my first thought is to call my dad to talk about it. The split second that I remember he cannot answer my call is heartbreaking.
March 2018
March 1, 2018 is a day that stands out to me. My mom called me that morning and told me that I should probably leave work and come see Dad. He had a bad night and had taken a turn for the worse, and Mom was worried that he probably only had days or maybe even just hours left. I was already planning to come over that night to watch the UVA at Louisville game with my dad, but in that moment basketball was the furthest thing from my mind.
Dave and I went over to our parents’ house that evening to be with Dad and support Mom. It was just the four of us. UVA was on the verge of an historic season with a 25-2 record at the time, but my focus was entirely on my dad. He was not very responsive. He was just resting his eyes and said very little. Things seemed grim, to say the least.
Mom had turned Dad’s office into his bedroom during those last few months, complete with a hospital bed positioned perfectly for Dad to view his mounted flat-screen TV. Many of my dad’s waking hours during the 2017-18 college basketball season were spent dissecting the game tape of every single UVA game. It is fair to say that he watched the recording of every single victory at least five or six times. Fortunately, it was a very good season, so he had plenty of viewing material.
The clock struck 8:00 p.m. I had honestly forgotten about the Louisville game. My mom suggested that we turn on the TV. Dad might be too tired to watch, but at least we could have the game on in the background while we visit. But let’s not forget how much Art loved the Hoos.
Within minutes, it was as if Dad snapped out of a trance. He woke up and started fist pumping on made shots, showing his displeasure with turnovers, and my personal favorite, complaining about the officiating. The man was unable to carry on a conversation with me just 20 minutes earlier, but the sight of Ty Jerome and Kyle Guy going to work caught his attention.
The moment was special. Even Mom watched the game with us. It was the last time that we watched a UVA game as a family of four. Things seemed normal if even just for a few hours. There was only one problem: Louisville was running the Hoos out of the gym. I vividly remember thinking to myself, “Please don’t let the last UVA game I watch with Dad be a blowout loss.”
Trailing by 13 points with 11 minutes to play, and then losing by five points with 10 seconds left, and worse, down four points with one second left in the game, the Hoos were toast and this game was as good as over. Watching the game with my parents and my brother was more important than the outcome, but this soon became the most miraculous UVA win of my lifetime.
Inexplicably, Louisville, with a four-point lead and one second on the clock, fouled UVA guard Ty Jerome on a three-point shot attempt. Jerome made the first two free throws to cut the deficit to two points, but his attempt to purposely miss the third foul shot resulted in a lane violation. All Louisville had to do was in-bound the ball and they would win the game. But wait. Louisville was called for the rare travel on the in-bounds pass, and the Hoos had the ball under their own basket with 0.9 seconds left in the game. A redshirt freshman named De’Andre Hunter banked in a three at the buzzer, in what would ultimately be the second-most important three-point shot of his career (see April 2019).
The win over Louisville was so improbable and so emotional. In the aftermath, all I can remember is pure joy as Dave, Mom, and I all circled Dad’s bed for a group hug. I knew in the back of my head that this was one of the last times we would all be together, but I was too happy to be sad.
One week after the Louisville game, the 2018 ACC Tournament tipped off in Brooklyn. One of my dad’s best friends flew in to Richmond from Atlanta to watch the tournament with us. We all knew it was a visit to say goodbye. We watched each UVA game in that ACC Tournament by Dad’s bedside. Art was fully aware and locked into the games. In what would be the last UVA game that I would ever watch with him, UVA defeated North Carolina to win the ACC Tournament. After the victory, Art looked at Dave and me, with tears in his eyes, and said, “This is what it’s all about. Watching these games with you guys.”
Keep in mind, UVA has only won three ACC Tournaments ever. They have only won two ACC Tournaments during my lifetime, and Dave and I watched them both with Dad. Over a span of 36 years, I watched thousands of UVA sporting events with my dad. Many of them were losses. This was an amazing last game to experience with Dad.
A few days after the ACC Tournament, Dad was placed into a hospice unit at the hospital. We knew the end was near, but Dad was able to talk for the first few days in hospice. His favorite topic: UVA basketball. The Hoos were the number one overall seed in the NCAA Tournament. Their first round game was scheduled for late Friday night against the University of Maryland, Baltimore County (“UMBC”), the 16-seed, a school that no one even knew existed before that week.
By Friday, Dad was barely able to talk. We watched March Madness games all day while Dad rested, and we planned to watch the Hoos game with him in his hospital room. The UVA-UMBC game was the last game of the day, starting around 9:30 p.m. As the players were walking onto the court and tip-off was literally seconds away, Dad whispered to my mom. Mom told us that Dad was tired and wanted to turn off the TV. I was shocked. My dad wanted to turn off a UVA game? An NCAA Tournament game no less? This was a very bad sign.
My wife Shannon, Dave, and I sat silently in a bleak hospital waiting room and watched UMBC blow out #1 UVA by 20 points. The first ever 16-seed to defeat a 1-seed in March Madness. I was numb. Not from the game but rather from the feeling of helplessness. When your dad is on his death bed, a basketball game simply does not matter. It is eerie that Dad knew not to watch that game. He never knew that UVA lost to UMBC.
Dad passed away quietly on March 18, 2018, holding my mom’s hand, a little more than 24 hours after the UMBC loss. I like to think he was dreaming about UVA cutting down the nets. Little did any of us know that dream would soon become a reality.
March 2019
The Hoos had another outstanding regular season in 2018-19. I was cautiously optimistic entering March Madness. The nerves were real. I knew this could be the year, but even the most die-hard UVA fans had the UMBC loss in the back of their minds.
A 14-point deficit in the first half against Gardner-Webb, another 16-seed, did not help alleviate the tension. Certainly we could not lose to another 16-seed? UVA settled down in the second half to easily defeat Gardner-Webb, and then survived to advance against Oklahoma and Oregon to set up an Elite 8 matchup with Purdue.
The UVA-Purdue game is my favorite college basketball game of all time. It was such a well-played game by both teams. The Hoos had done enough to win the first three games of the tournament, but the Purdue game was the first time they had played like a team capable of winning a national championship. And they needed every single point. The game was played in Louisville (ironically, in the same building where UVA miraculously came back to defeat Louisville in March 2018) and felt like a Purdue home game, and Purdue guard Carsen Edwards simply could not miss a shot all night.
In what would become a theme for this Virginia team, the Hoos needed to overcome a deficit in the last few seconds. With UVA trailing by two points, Ty Jerome missed a free throw with 5.9 seconds left. Forward Mamadi Diakite tipped the ball into the backcourt, and miraculously, scrappy freshman Kihei Clark retrieved the ball near half court and threaded the needle on a pass back to Diakite, who made a short jumper at the buzzer to send the game to overtime. The play included what I consider the best pass and the most important shot in UVA basketball history. The Hoos won the game in overtime and advanced to the Final Four for the first time since 1984. The monkey was off of Tony Bennett’s back. I danced around the living room and embraced my friend Alex. We both had the same thought to each other: Art must have had something to do with that win.
April 2019
For the first time ever, UVA was playing basketball in April. The Final Four opponent was Auburn. All you need to know about this game is that UVA had the ball and a two-point deficit with 1.5 seconds left in the game. Kyle Guy, the heart and soul of this team, was fouled on a three-point shot attempt with 0.6 seconds left and was headed to the free throw line for three shots. I could not watch. I stood in the kitchen and listened. Alex sat on the stairs and covered his face with his hands. Dave stood in the hallway, about 50 feet from the TV, and gave us the play-by-play. The tension was palpable. With ice in his veins, Guy made all three free throws and UVA won the game by a point. More dancing. More hugs. More thoughts of Art and whether he had anything to do with this unbelievable run to a title.
Virginia played Texas Tech in the Championship game. The hero in that game was De’Andre Hunter, who made a game-tying three-pointer in the closing seconds of regulation and thoroughly dominated the second half and overtime. For the third game in a row, in three of the most important games in program history, UVA had overcome a deficit in the final 15 seconds of the second half and gone on to win the game.
The Hoos were national champions. I was in disbelief. My unbridled joy was tempered by one thought: I wish Dad could share this moment with me. UVA had won that elusive national title, and Dad missed it by one year.
Dozens of friends reached out to me after the Championship game, and nearly all of them mentioned my dad and our rallying cry during his illness, ArtStrong. They joined me in celebrating the victory for Art. The outpouring of support brought me peace and left me with the reflection that Dad did not miss the magical run to a championship. Rather, he helped the Hoos find a way to win each game in miraculous fashion. There is no other explanation.
March 2020
Two years after Dad’s death, Shannon and I welcomed our first child. Arthur Friedman’s first grandson is named Haynes Arthur Friedman. I lost my best friend in March 2018, but I gained a new best friend in March 2020.
It stings to know that Haynes will never meet his Poppy, but he will absolutely learn about the legacy that his namesake left behind. I can only hope to be the same kind of father to Haynes that Dad was to me.
Haynes will know that we cheer for UVA sports because of Poppy.
He will know that we treat people the way we want to be treated because Dad taught me the Golden Rule.
The bond between fathers and sons is special. I have an immense responsibility to teach my son how to act with integrity and humility. Like a Virginia Gentleman. Like his Poppy.
Dad and I on February 15, 2017 before the Duke at Virginia game at John Paul Jones Arena.