Sydney Johnson’s face said it all. Here he was, a coach who had just broken a nine-game losing streak at the Ivy League’s most storied basketball program, and he knew was about to get grilled. What should have been a celebration was a night of second guessing and would-have-beens. In lieu of an opening statement, Johnson just said what was on everyone’s mind, with a strained smile on his face.

“He’s making me look bad, guys. I really didn’t need that.”

You see, Johnson had won the game in large part because of the play of a never-used reserve, a senior who had seen less than a single half of playing time his entire career. Zach Woolridge, a four-year benchwarmer, the absolute last man on the Princeton depth chart, got his first career start and scored 15 points on Columbia in the first half. He broke down the defense—playing outside of Princeton’s usual game with strong moves to the basket—and completely caught Columbia off-guard. No one, not even the radio guys who had spent a good deal of time prepping for this game, knew where he came from. Columbia’s coaching staff certainly didn’t. Joe Jones almost laughed it off at the end of the game.

Woolridge is a longtime friend of mine, someone I’ve known since he would beat up on me in middle school basketball, and someone who I wrote stories about before I knew what Spectator was. He became a starting role player and four-year letter winner in high school—not usually something to brag about, but on a team with seven future D-I basketball players, it’s nothing to look down on. He was tall and athletic, a great defender, and a decent shooter. He lacked any semblance of assertiveness on the offensive end, but could bury the spot-up shots that he had to. He even made his share of game winning plays.

His claim to fame came with his ability to play the best defense (relatively speaking) on Detroit Pistons guard Aaron Afflalo in state and regional playoffs. He was fundamentally sound—he’d seen top talent in high school, and I had no reason to believe that when John Thompson recruited him over to Princeton he wouldn’t thrive.

Then Thompson got the call from Georgetown and the ill-fated Joe Scott era began.

The Tigers were a loaded team that first year, barely losing out to Penn for the title, and so it didn’t matter that he never played. I knew he’d have his chance. I’d seen Mack Montgomery play well at Columbia, and I swear there wasn’t any discernible difference in their games. The following year, he stayed at the end of that bench.

He’d never find favor with Scott, but then again Scott never found favor with his own players or fans. He was, by all accounts, a poor coach and a mediocre recruiter. He has done damage to that program that will take a long time for Johnson to reverse. I figured Johnson might start everyone from scratch, recognize his skill, and give Zach a chance. That’s how Matt Preston was rescued by Joe Jones. The new coach abandoned the rigid offense, gave everyone their chance, and Preston developed into a minor star.

That was the optimistic side in me. The side that has been watching Ivy basketball for quite a while also knew that the offense Princeton plays requires a certain type of player. The reason Preston thrived at Columbia wasn’t just because he had a new coach but because it was a whole new system. Zach wasn’t going to get that. His game may have been more suited for an open-style team like Columbia’s, but there was no reason for him not to work at Princeton. He fit in the post, could hit open threes, was rather bright, and was a disciplined defender.

Even when logic dictated that he should quit, he stuck with it, almost to a fault, playing on another team destined for the cellar.

Then it happened. An injury opened a spot in the rotation. With his mom in town, he was going to make his senior-night shot. He scored a quick five points to start the game, leaving Thompson no choice but to leave him in. And then he took off. He made an impossible scoop shot on one drive over two defenders, and then another short-range floater. He was more athletic than Columbia’s defenders, but he also made smart passes, and played one of the best halves I’ve seen in the league this year.

Perhaps most importantly, he drew some of the tougher defensive assignments, guarding John Baumann, and also got the attention of Columbia’s best on-the-ball defender, Kevin Bulger.

After the game, putting on a straight face and a serious smile, he said all the right things in an attempt to hide four years of frustration that boiled over and stretched Columbia’s Jadwin losing streak to 15 years.

Johnson said all the right things, too.

“I’ve been raving about Zach to all who would listen,” the coach said, a bit more composed. “I really respect him for waiting his turn and still working hard in practice. ... For him to come out and have the game of his life—I was happy for him, and a little bit in awe.”

The awe wore off quickly. The following night against Cornell, Zach would start again, play four minutes, go 1-1 with three points, and then go straight back to that last seat on the bench. Johnson, I guess, thought it would be a better idea to lose another game with a team that he knew and keep it close, rather than risk something that worked for a second time. It’s institutionalized mediocrity at its finest—losing with the one that brought you.

I can sit back and smile, enjoying Zach’s vindication, knowing that Johnson was wrong because he never proved otherwise.

Coaches love the predictable. They love the matchups they know and the weaknesses they’re familiar with. Now that I’ve covered my last game of Columbia basketball, I can look back on four years of second-guessing Joe Jones and see that he’s not all that different from other coaches. They all make their fair share of questionable lineup decisions, some that save jobs, some that keep them steady, and some that lose them. Coaches want the stability above the unpredictability of a high payoff—and who can blame them? Their careers depend on stability, and, more importantly, respectability.

It was a disappointing year, a performance below expectations no matter where they were “ranked” to start the season. The simple existence of expectations indicate respectability. They were swept by the two best teams in the league, had one embarrassing game against Dartmouth, and then there was the Princeton fluke. One player made the most of his one chance Friday night, and a young team won on a desperation play Saturday. The same thing happened in Levien two years ago, when Columbia was the beneficiary. Had that shot hit the rim, there would have never been a putback, since it’s hard to rebound an airball.

There, eight weeks summed up for easy digestion by the casual fan.

It’s boxes like this that people use to pass judgment on this season or on Joe Jones. I’m not going to partake, for now. I’ll leave that to those who write next year, who will have a front row seat to see if he’s built a sustainable program. Cornell brings back their core, Brown and Penn have recruited powerful classes, Princeton’s back to form, and Harvard has a top-25 haul. I can’t say the road is uphill, because that doesn’t quite do it justice.

That’s how I’ll sign off on this season. Underachievement sprinkled with bad luck at the worst time isn’t quite as bad as single-digit wins, so let’s call it an unfinished story that’s just closed a single chapter.