Gonzaga, Mallon prove they are more than a one-man team

SALT LAKE CITY — If the Gonzaga Bulldogs were going to get over this second-round thing in the NCAA tournament, you just knew a guy from Spokane would lead them. A big player, somebody who could get to the basket, someone who could still breathe on the kind of stage where CBS interviews you after the game.

Sean Mallon, say hello to the Sweet 16.

Zags, go ahead and luxuriate in making the second weekend of the big tournament, where the pressure peels off you, where shots feel good leaving your hand, where you're free from the nagging TV commentators and press guys casting aspersions on whether you're clutch or not.

With a collection of solid efforts from their cameo players, particularly Mallon, the Zags (29-3) dropped Indiana 90-80 Saturday, marching on to the West regional semifinals Thursday night in Oakland against UCLA.

While the game ended Mike Davis' coaching stint at Indiana (19-12), it resuscitated what was once an old tradition at Gonzaga, making the Sweet 16. The Zags qualified three consecutive times from 1999 to 2001, but had bowed out before that the past four years.

"I'm ecstatic," said Gonzaga coach Mark Few. "I'm so proud of this group of guys. They just had a steely resolve tonight."

All of them.

The Zags did it the old Gonzaga way, before a cold-blooded scorer named Adam Morrison happened upon them. Held to a 5-for-17, 14-point night by Indiana's smaller perimeter players, Morrison ceded heroics to a whole host of other Zags.

Six Gonzaga players scored in double figures, and the WCC champs got a smorgasbord of complementary performances — 10 points from guard Jeremy Pargo, 11 explosive points from Erroll Knight, hooded under a towel when he wasn't in the game, nursing a 101-degree fever.

But nobody was a bigger surprise than the 6-foot-9 Mallon, who has had a modest career at Gonzaga after a significant build-up born of bright prep seasons at Ferris High in Spokane, where his teams went to the state Class 4A title game twice.

Mallon had 15 points and 10 rebounds in 24 minutes. His was the position Indiana couldn't really guard, because the Hoosiers attack was 6-8 Marco Killingsworth, matched futilely against J.P. Batista, and four perimeter players.

"It was a great matchup for me," said Mallon. "I was looking at the scouting report and their [No.] 4 man was 6-5 or 6-6. It was a matchup I felt I could take advantage of."

While Batista had his way (20 points, nine rebounds) with the foul-riddled Killingsworth, Mallon also rode herd inside. It was his first game in double figures in his last eight, spanning 33 days.

Which, it doesn't need noting, is longer than his crosstown buddy Morrison has gone.

Mallon is the anti-Morrison. Mallon is from the south, more affluent side of Spokane, Morrison from the grittier north end. Mallon, a political science major, will graduate in May, possibly going on to law school while Morrison is earning millions in the NBA.

Mallon wouldn't trash-talk Chris Rock. Morrison would run his mouth on Miss Manners.

A year older, Mallon first met Morrison at one of ex-Zags coach Dan Fitzgerald's camps in Spokane.

"I was older," Mallon said. "So I didn't pass him the ball."

Says Morrison, "Sean was kind of a ball-hog then. But I think the roles are reversed now."

They jousted through high school. Mallon broke the Greater Spokane League career scoring record, only to lose it to Mead High's Morrison a year later. Morrison would brag on that; Mallon responded that it took Morrison more shots.

"Ask him what Ferris' record was against Mead," Mallon said.

Their Gonzaga careers took disparate paths, Morrison's to magazine covers, Mallon's to bit player for the Zags. But it was those role guys who scored 12 consecutive points at one stretch of the second half for Gonzaga — Mallon and Knight and Pargo and David Pendergraft — to hold the game together until Batista and Morrison could add their own telling plays down the stretch.

And there they were, Mallon and Morrison, taking questions from CBS, moving on to Oakland. "Definitely a fun day," said Mallon.

For all of them, but especially Sean Mallon, only one word seemed to apply: Sweet.

Bud Withers: 206-464-8281 or bwithers@seattletimes.com