ZAGS TO RICHES

How Few’s good men went from Cinderella to superpower on cusp of perfection

I wonder if it can be replicated at other places.

“The majority of our fans — and the nation — only know Gonzaga since 1999, but the history part of it is what makes it special. We weren’t bequeathed anything. No one gave us anything. To me, it’s the great American story.”

TQQQ

HE LOCATION ideal. A new general store brought a flood of settlers to Spokane Falls in 1878, and three years later, the triple-digit population of the newly incorporated city was certain to skyrocket with the arrival of the Northern Pacific Railroad. It required just $936 and some imagination to acquire 320 acres of land along the Spokane River, enabling a new university to serve the surrounding Jesuit missions in Idaho, Montana and eastern Washington.

There, the Gonzaga campus sat on the quiet side of the Cascade Mountains, still in need of introductions with the locals a century later.

“We were an isolated community, and when we’d go to Seattle and the other side of the state to recruit a kid, they’d say, ‘I thought that was a high school,’ because the Gonzaga Prep football team was so good,” said former seemed Gonzaga basketball coach Jay Hillock (1981-85). “I’d say, ‘What the hell am I doing here?’”

It was a stepping stone, a coaching résumé enhancer. It was the kind of program that offered Few — a 26-year-old high school assistant in his native Oregon — a graduate assistant job in 1989. Then-Gonzaga assistant Dan Monson made the recommendation, having seen Few’s dedication at Monson’s father’s basketball camp — and after hours.

“We went really hard there, working the camp until 9 at night and then go to the bars until 2 or 3 in the morning. Sometimes we’d then go golf when it turned light at 4:30, then go back to camp at 8 and act like it’s just another day,” Monson said. “It was a badge of honor how little sleep you could get and how hard you could work at that camp.”

Initially, Few declined Gonzaga’s offer. A $5,000 annual salary — “Mark will still tell you it was $500,” Monson said — wasn’t enough. Other candidates agreed. Monson circled back to Few, closing the deal by offering a rent-free room in his apartment.

Few’s first three years as an assistant produced a series of losing records, including the West Coast Conference program’s worst season in four decades (1989-90), when the Zags went 8-20 and ranked 230th in the nation in attendance (1,960 fans per game).

“Four of those were non-D-I [wins]. How about that?” said Few, now 58. “We basically won four Division I games.”

Now, the Bulldogs behave like the elite, enjoying the luxury and convenience of private charter flights. In the less fortunate times, the team just hoped to reach the runway on time. They just hoped to be important enough for the school’s maintenance staff to remember them.

“We’d take the bus up the hill out of town to get to the airport and sometimes it’d break down,” Hillock said. “After Christmas, the heat wouldn’t be on because they forgot about us, so the guys would practice in hoodies and long sleeves.”

Now, Gonzaga reaps millions from Nike. For so long, the school relied on hand-medowns.

“I wore No. 13 because they only had 13 and 15 available. I got used sweatpants that were No. 2,” said former guard Matt Santangelo (1996-2000). “You had to literally have holes in your sneakers before you could get a new pair. I got more gear doing radio for Gonzaga than I ever did as a player.”

The school’s first NCAA Tournament appearance came in 1995. In Monson’s second season as head coach in 1999 — when Gonzaga paid a local network to broadcast its games — the Bulldogs returned as a 10-seed.

“We didn’t know what to do,” Santangelo said. “We were just happy to be there.”

Opening in Seattle, Gonzaga took down a Minnesota team decimated by academic suspensions, then toppled No. 2 Stanford. Less than a year after Gonzaga had debated the merits of Division I athletics, Casey Calvary’s tip-in with 4.4 seconds left against Florida sent the school to the Elite Eight.

“Spokane is going nuts, the nation is going nuts, and I get a call from our comptroller,” Roth said. “He says, ‘Mike, I get it now.’”

After a last-minute loss to eventual champion Connecticut ended Gonzaga’s Final Four hopes, a bidding war began. Monson spurned offers from Washington State and San Diego State. Twice, he turned down Minnesota.

Monson agreed to a significant raise and extension at Gonzaga, paying $105,000 per year. Then, Minnesota morphed into a Corleone, offering $490,000 per season for seven years.

“I never regretted taking it.

I was getting married in two weeks. You think: You’re 37 years old, starting a family, and it’s gonna take [10] years at Gonzaga to make what I would at Minnesota in two,” Monson said. “You look at the situation, you look at the league and no one sustained a run.”

It’s the mid-major’s plight. Loyola-Marymount hasn’t danced since Bo Kimble honored Hank Gathers. George Mason has won one NCAA Tournament game since its 2006 Final Four run. Florida Gulf Coast hasn’t won a tournament game since Dunk City was born. The same for Davidson, since America met Stephen Curry.

When Few was promoted to the head position at $75,000 per season, university president Robert Spitzer — fretting over Monson’s departure — didn’t even know the difference between the team’s assistant coaches.

“I said, ‘Father, slow down, it’s done. Mark Few is our next head coach,’” Roth recalled. “He goes, ‘Oh, OK, good. Which one is he?’”

After Few led the Zags to backto-back Sweet 16 appearances in his first two seasons, the Flutie effect — coined after the Heisman Trophy winner’s celebrity