Marquez Price is a Tucson original. A former prep basketball star (and the son of an even bigger former prep basketball star), he’s an inveterate hoops junkie with a taste for arcane literature.
He’s a published poet and a deeply introspective philosopher who can also quote every line from “Blazing Saddles.” And now he’s a sports historian, having penned a tribute to perhaps the greatest prep basketball team in Tucson history, one whose run to the state championship was fueled by a most unlikely friendship that would become a lifelong unbreakable bond.
His book, “The Backcourt,” refers to the two starting guards on Tucson High’s 1969 state championship team. One was the author’s father, Delano (pronounced Duh-LAY-no) Price. He was a smooth ball handler with a jumper that was a carbon copy of Jerry West, who, after all these decades, remains the greatest jump shooter.
Delano’s running mate in the legendary backcourt is someone who is still spoken about with reverence by anyone fortunate enough to have seen him play, and with deep affection by those of us who were blessed to share a court with him. You can go out in the middle of the desert and whisper “Hoegie Simmons,” and you’ll receive a response.
It’s like when Richard Pryor shared the story of the guys at the barbershop discussing boxing. Inevitably, someone would mention Sugar Ray Robinson, and the place would go wild. “Aw sh-it! You talking about The Sugar!”
Hoegie Simmons is absolutely the best basketball player I’ve ever shared a court with — and I’ve been blessed to play with several guys who would play or played in the NBA. He was a freak. He stood maybe 5-foot-9, but his arms were so long that his fingertips reached down to the side of his knees.
He could leap straight up without a run-up and dunk with both hands. He had handles like Steve Nash and was lightning quick. He could go anywhere on the court whenever he desired.
But it was his jump shot that people most remember.
He dribbled to a spot and stopped suddenly. He would then jump, elevating as high as needed to keep the defender(s) from influencing the play. He would cock the ball far behind his head, resulting in an almost vertical trajectory when it left his hands. His ultra-high-arcing jumpers took seconds to complete their journey into the hoop.
Oddly enough, while Simmons was the best basketball player, he was only the third-leading scorer on that Tucson High team. Price led the way, but the second-leading scorer was Kenny Ball, a bruising inside player who rode the boards and scored a lot of put-back baskets. (Kenny Ball’s grandson, Wes, is starring for the undefeated Pima College men’s basketball team.)
“The Backcourt” tells the story of an initially unlikely and ultimately unbreakable bond between two players. Price’s family moved to Tucson from the Midwest, rooted in discipline and hard work, with a strong emphasis on education. In contrast, Hoegie Simmons’ life was marked by turmoil. Reportedly, Hoegie’s biological father had 36 children! When Hoegie arrived in Tucson with his single mother, he was just a step ahead of juvenile authorities.
When his father died, Hoegie, who despised the man, attended the funeral. At the funeral, all of the children were asked to stand together. Hoegie was stunned. “We all looked alike! His sperm count was strong. They should have sent his body to the university because he had all the kids, and they all looked exactly alike.”
The author touches on the segregation and subtle racism of Tucson in the 20th century. (With an African American population of only around 5%, Tucson was, and remains, one of the country’s least-Black big cities.)
The story of the championship season is engaging, but things pick up (and then go tragically south) after high school. Both players starred in junior college ball, Delano at Phoenix College and Hoegie at Glendale. Hoegie averaged a ridiculous 28.7 points per game (there were no three-pointers back then) and made NJCAA All-American. In their final matchup, Hoegie scored 38 points and Delano scored 32 in a Phoenix 108-103 victory.
Hoegie went on to Texas A&I and made Sports Illustrated when he had back-to-back 50-point games one weekend. But, while Delano went on to the university and became a much-respected teacher, Hoegie ran afoul of the law and ended up in prison. Still, their bond remained unbroken.
As I was writing this, I had the TV on in the office. The Arizona Wildcats were about to suffer an extremely rare McKale Center loss, trailing the No. 3 team in the country, Iowa State, with only a couple seconds on the clock. But then Caleb Love (perhaps my least-favorite “star” Wildcat player ever) hit a shot from beyond halfcourt to send the game into overtime. McKale exploded and the Cats won in overtime.
As a basketball junkie, it has been great living in Tucson these past few decades. But, as "The Backcourt" shows, Tucson was a basketball town long before Lute Olson (or even Fred Snowden) arrived on the scene.
