University of Tennessee Athletics
Slay Nation
March 11, 2003 | Men's Basketball
March 11, 2003
It's a breezy mid-February afternoon when a maroon automobile turns the corner of the Thompson-Boling Arena parking lot, overlooking dozens of spaces before cruising past the media gate entrance and coming to a halt directly in front of the double doors under the entrance ramp. The windows are dark and by no means can the driver be identified, if it weren't for one tiny piece of cotton swinging from the rear-view mirror - a white headband.
Ron Slay steps out of his vehicle in a Nets jersey from the 1970s, and a matching hat tilted halfway around. The old jerseys are in, and Slay has his fare share. But he's got a few that don't exactly fall into the old school category, like his Bengals football jersey and the one he promised to wear the day Tennessee hosted then-No. 4 Florida. "I've got a special one for Saturday I'm going to break out," he said with his thick Nashville accent two days before the game. "I gotta hold on to that one. They'll see it though."
Slay never avoids being the center of attention. Never has. But the attention he's getting this year is something new to the trash-talking, headband-wearing, chest-bumping, in-your-face Slay we've all come to know - and love. And it's about time.
He was the freshman who strutted into Thompson-Boling Arena for Midnight Madness of 1999 and stole the show by dunking over a rack of basketballs wearing a Scream mask. He was the sophomore who was touted by many to be the best sixth man in the nation, coming off the bench to average 12.9 points and one standing ovation each game. He was the junior who had senior leadership and blew up in his first four SEC games, averaging 19 points and 8.8 rebounds until a torn ACL ended the season 15 games short.
That was it for Ron Slay. He was done. At least that's what everybody outside of Knoxville said. Those who were here saw his work ethic and dedication to rehabilitating his left knee. The insiders knew the Slay Nation would rise again and become as strong, if not stronger than it once was. "We had conversations over the summer about his senior year and how it's going to be a big year," Peterson says. "And when he came back to school in August, you could tell the focus, leadership and responsibility he provided."
"I just wanted to come back out here and re-establish my name," Slay says. "There are a lot of guys who don't come back well after this injury. I just came back a little stronger."
Now, he's the best player in the Southeastern Conference. He's led the league in scoring since they unlocked the gym door. He's ranked in the top five in rebounds all year. And he's carried the Volunteers from the bottom of the SEC East to the brink of a NCAA Tournament birth. Needless to say, all those pollsters, coaches and players who forgot about Ron Slay in his extended offseason, they're eating their words now. "I'm trying to make them pay for it," Slay says with a laugh. But behind the laugh, deep down he's got a sense of honesty behind those words.
It's not like teams refuse to acknowledge Slay's presence. They prepare for it. They put two men on him in the paint, sometimes three. Yet night after night, Tennessee's leader chips and chips away until he's dismantled each defender. He'll take his game outside the paint and bomb 3-pointers all night if he has to. Or he'll bang inside until the defenders can't take it anymore or they send him to the free throw line. "Coach told me at the beginning just to let your play do your talking," Slay says, "and you won't have to say anything."
Slay's volume could have been on mute this year and he would still be making the loudest impact in the SEC. And instead of shutting him up, people are starting to listen. He was named SEC Player of the Week following a 21-point performance against Massachusetts and the 33-point Georgia outing. One week later, he was given the award again after games against Arkansas (23 points) and Florida (20 points, 11 rebounds). It was the first time since 1993-94 that a player has won the SEC award in consecutive weeks, and he is the first Vol to do so since Dyron Nix in 1988.
"I think getting hurt just put everything back in refocus," Slay says. "I don't disregard any minutes and don't take any time off. I just give 110 percent and you can see the outcome."
On Feb. 15, a crowd of 18,870 saw an outcome they had hoped for when the Vols upset the Gators, 66-59. The mob spilled onto the floor and the celebration at half court began, just as Slay had politely predicted two days earlier. But the prophet wasn't in the middle of the pile. He was just outside of the human circle, slowly walking over to shake hands with the Florida players, one by one. "We don't want to disrespect them because they've got a great team and we might see them later on down the road," he says. "But tonight was our night." A quick tug at the "Tennessee" sewn on his chest was reassurance.
A shower and change of clothes and it was off to greet the flock of media waiting to hear from Big Slay. Waltzing into the Ray Mears room in his "special" Dan Marino jersey and matching Dolphins hat, slightly tilted to the side, he laughed. "Marino can win the big games, he just can't win championships. That's why I wore him tonight."
Nobody outside the arena seemed to notice the irony, but Slay didn't mind. He hasn't minded all season, so why start now?
