For Western Kentucky’s Ty Rogers, his one shining moment will live on for years to come.
By JOEY JOHNSTON
The Tampa Tribune
(c) Tampa Bay Times. Originally published March 15, 2011.
TAMPA — Not long ago, Ty Rogers, pharmaceutical salesman, husband, father and small-town hero, was sitting among strangers at a restaurant in Bowling Green, Ky. On the television screen overhead, there it was — again. ESPN’s countdown of the greatest shots in NCAA tournament history.
Brazelton’s got it … End to end he’ll come … Leaves it for Rogers for three … For the win … Western Kentucky does in Drake!
Rogers overheard a conversation.
“Remember when that guy hit the shot?”
He smiled at the irony. After all, he was that guy.
“Sometimes, I still can’t believe it really happened,” he said.
For one shining moment, Rogers walked arm-in-arm with Christian Laettner, Bryce Drew and Tyus Edney. For a few glorious seconds, Rogers stepped outside of his low-key, understated personality.
“I lost total control,” he said. “So much adrenaline was running through my body. I saw my family and was yelling at them. I was yelling at God. It was amazing.”
Rogers grew up in Eddyville, Ky., population 2,350. By the time the media interviews were done, he noticed more than 200 text messages. He didn’t get back to the hotel for a few hours. His family was waiting.
“To be honest, we spent about 20 minutes just crying,” Rogers said.
Recently, Rogers was invited to a 16th birthday party.
“They called out of the blue and told him it would be such a wonderful surprise if Ty Rogers could actually show up,” said Rogers’ wife, Mandy. “It would be so thrilling. That’s a beautiful thing because Ty is just this normal guy.”
He never thought the NBA was a realistic option. Going overseas wasn’t appealing. So, armed with his business management degree — and a familiar name that broke the ice in his interviews — he was hired at AstraZeneca, a pharmaceutical company. His territory, with sales calls at doctor’s offices and hospitals, ranges from Bowling Green to Paducah.
Rogers, 25, still feels the tug of basketball. He began the Sharp Shooters Academy for young players. He’s playing in a few amateur leagues. One day, his wife thinks, he will become a coach.
No surprise there.
Almost from birth, Rogers had a basketball in his hands. He and his father, Jeff, were in the high school gym every day. Eventually, they got their own key. Rogers made the Lyon County High varsity as a seventh-grader, scoring 3,300 career points and finishing as the school’s valedictorian.
At Western Kentucky, Rogers accepted deferential roles: Playing defense, avoiding turnovers, getting it to the shooters, Tyrone Brazelton and Courtney Lee. He even surrendered his athletic scholarship, switching to academic aid, when the Hilltoppers needed to sign a big man.
On that fateful afternoon in Tampa, there were 5.7 seconds remaining against Drake — and 5.7 seconds remaining in his basketball life — when Rogers threw the inbounds pass to Brazelton, whose court-length drive pulled in two defenders. It was kicked back to Rogers.
“I took a shot like I had practiced so many thousands of times before,” Rogers said.
“Tears welled up in my eyes because I knew how much work he had put in,” his father said.
“The whole arena just erupted, and I was hugging people I didn’t even know,” said Rogers’ mother, Ruth, who recorded the NCAA tournament’s “One Shining Moment” highlights montage each year to watch with her son.
At Lyon County High, where the game was shown on video screens in every classroom, there was a collective roar. People drove off the streets. They sprinted all over campus. When the Hilltoppers made the Sweet 16, eventually losing against overall No. 1 seed UCLA, Rogers noticed Chicago Cubs manager Lou Piniella inside a Phoenix restaurant. Rogers introduced himself.
“Lou actually knew who I was,” said Rogers, a lifelong Cubs fan, still in amazement. “He said he saw the shot. It blew me away. What an incredible run.”
Eventually, the run stops. The players at Florida, Kentucky, UCLA, Michigan State and all the others may count this week’s Tampa trip as one of life’s most memorable experiences.
Maybe somebody will even hit a game-winning shot.
If so, as Rogers attests, it lasts for a lifetime.
There is a giant banner of the shot hanging at WKU’s E.A. Diddle Arena. Rogers still gets mobbed at games. When he’s shown on the video board, it’s the cue for a standing ovation.
WKU also established the Ty Rogers Scholarship, which awards $1,250 each year to a graduating Lyon County High senior — forever.
“I’ve had a lot of wonderful things happen to me,” he said.
Rogers’ favorite was the summer of 2008, when he won an ESPY Award — “Best Finish.” He invited his girlfriend, Mandy Berry, to the ceremony in Los Angeles.
“I was so thankful, but maybe a little surprised because he could’ve taken his parents or anybody else,” she said.
Friends for three years, they had only been dating a few months. She wasn’t even at the game in Tampa. When Rogers’ shot dropped, she literally fell off her couch in shock. She opened her balcony, watching people running into the streets. They were laughing, crying, hugging.
“It was like a dream come true,” she said.
Upon arrival for the ESPYs, she was dazzled by the hotel’s VIP treatment. Celebrities were all around. Rogers suggested some fresh air, so they strolled to a nearby park. They were near a waterfall when Rogers stopped, dropped to one knee and presented an engagement ring.
She gasped and cried. Of course, she said yes.
Such is the magic of real life. It also happens in sports. Ordinary people are part of extraordinary moments.
Ty Rogers experienced the dream of every basketball player. He found the love of his life. Buzzer-beating highlights are great, but the respect of his hometown means even more. He’s comfortable in his own skin. Some day, he’ll have a great story to tell his daughter, 18-month-old Kayleigh, who’s already shooting a miniature ball. For now, he just loves gazing into her eyes.
“Life is good,” he said. “No, actually, life is great.”
