That Time Jim Nantz Nearly Had Me Kicked Out of the Final Four Because of Jason Whitlock and ‘One Shining Moment’

AP Photo/Gregory Payan

The term “broadcasting legend” gets thrown around all too often in sports media, and there may not be any immediate plans to build a statute in honor of Jim Nantz just yet. But today is bittersweet for avid fans of college basketball — in particular, the NCAA Men’s basketball tournament known as “March Madness.” Tonight will be Nantz’s last call of a national championship game.

Nantz owns the most dulcet of dulcet voices, which he will thankfully continue to lend to the “tradition unlike any other” by calling the Masters and future NFL games. But he has been linked to college hoops going back as far as 1988, I believe, or at least that’s the first time I came in contact with him by accident while exiting Kansas City’s Kemper Arena, having watched my beloved Jayhawks “Danny and the Miracles” defeat Oklahoma in a thriller.

If memory serves, Nantz did not call that game but hosted the pregame and halftime. We happened to exit the arena simultaneously, and I recognized and congratulated him; he could not have been more gracious and open. I mentioned this roughly 14 years later when he sat for an interview with me as I was producing an hour-long clip show called March Madness Uncensored, which was set to air on both MTV and CBS Sports, both being part of the same corporate behemoth at the time.

That experience included a curious interaction with Nantz, which I think neatly illustrates who the man is, which I will share.

Producing that show was a dream come true for me, as I have long been obsessed with college hoops, going back as far as watching Kansas State’s Rolando Blackman shoot down the Oregon State Ducks in 1979 (with eyes closed!) in 1979, which made the cover of Sports Illustrated.  The 2002 Final Four was in Atlanta, and representing MTV — still a wildly influential brand with the youths — gave me free rein and access to every boldface name in college basketball. We were endorsed by the NCAA, so we could get nearly anyone we wanted to sit for us.

I interviewed Billy Packer, Jay Bilas, Charles Barkley, Bill Raftery, Dick Vitale, Shane Battier, Coach K….I even may have been the first to put Grant Wahl on television. And, of course, anyone associated with CBS Sports, including Nantz. But we were also looking for non-traditional angles and subjects, and I knew Jason Whitlock to be a bit of a firebrand, so I reached out to him for the show as well.

Now I knew Whitlock from my Kansas City suburban upbringing. At that time, he was not nearly as much of a race-baiting provocateur as he is today. He wrote controversial columns for the Kansas City Star and also hosted a radio show that successfully got sports radio obsessives in Kansas City to talk about whatever outrageous thing he said. But his commentary, while occasionally controversial, was not as deliberately provocative as he is today.

At any rate, one line of questioning I had in most interviews was the abomination of the song that plays at the end of the national championship game, One Shining Moment. I have a love-hate relationship with it. The fantastic montage serves as a perfect coda to the drama that unfolded over the previous three weeks in 63 basketball games. But the song? Pure cheese.

I recall asking Whitlock about it, and he replied that they should ditch the song and have Jay-Z record something new. I liked that idea but knew it would never air, so I moved on, wrapped the interview, and scampered around the downtown Ritz-Carlton that served as a hub for CBS Sports during the Final Four, searching for more subjects for the show.

Hours after my Whitlock interview, I’m racing around trying to act like I belong at the Ritz-Carlton and hustle up someone famous to be part of the show, when all of a sudden, my phone blows up. Many of my friends in KC had been listening to Whitlock’s radio show, for which he interviewed Nantz.

And what did he talk about with the CBS Sports legend? One Shining Moment and how a producer from MTV was trying to kill it. Paraphrasing, but apparently Nantz couldn’t believe anyone would speak ill of the college hoops anthem and demanded Whitlock reveal who would suggest such a thing. Whitlock answered, “Colby Hall.” No es bueno.

Nantz recalled meeting me and told Whitlock, “I know Colby. Let’s say that his time here at the Final Four is about to end,” or words to that effect.

When I heard this reported to me multiple times by friends, I gulped hard a few times. He couldn’t be serious, could he? Was I going to miss the Final Four? My Jayhawks were playing, and I didn’t want to be sent home for messing with the CBS and NCAA brands. The former had literally spent BILLIONS of licensing fees for the rights, which is why MTV was brought in to help promote it to a younger demo. And here I had futzed it up?

I will admit I was panicked. Worried that my television career was about to end. But then I recalled my father’s advice that when something is really bothering you, just confront it. So I did.

So I went to the lobby restaurant, which I quickly scanned to find Nantz having a late breakfast, took a deep breath, and approached the table to confront him.

My anxiety disappeared after he recognized me immediately and greeted me with a smile. “Colby! I was just talking about you on the radio,” he said. I breathed a quiet sigh of enormous relief after realizing he wasn’t really going to have me kicked out of the Final Four. Then I got a wild hair and decided to get some payback.

“Yeah, I heard,” I said a little defiantly. “I’m from Kansas City, and all my friends and family are there and worried about me.”

Nantz’s face dropped. “Oh no, you have family there? I am so sorry,” he said. I felt a little guilty for making him feel bad, also because my family had all left there, and it was really just old pals who were more excited that they heard my name on the radio.

I told him it was fine, and he offered to buy me breakfast, which I declined, and all was good.

In his 32 years as the voice of March Madness, Jim Nantz — with his big heart, dry wit, and velvet pipes — has given America many shining moments. But for me, that encounter in Atlanta will always shine the brightest.

This is an opinion piece. The views expressed in this article are those of just the author.