Princeton wants to win for 'Crunch,' former professor

When the Princeton Tigers take the court Thursday afternoon, they will be trying to win a basketball game for more than themselves.

They will be thinking about two people they loved who are no longer with them - one an 87-year-old former professor who had given so much, the other an 11-year-old boy who had so much to give.

They want to win for Marv.

And for Crunch.

The team, from the starters to the last player on the bench, has learned in the last few months there is more to life than winning or losing a basketball game.

They have learned about life itself, they have learned about death, they have learned how simple acts can make a little boy's dreams come true.

"This all sounds like a fairy tale, except for the ending," said Matthew Regulski, father of 11-year-old Christian Regulski, whom all of the players knew simply by his nickname, "Crunch," because of his toughness on the lacrosse field.

Christian Michael Regulski was a sick little boy in Robbinsville, N.J., located about 20 minutes from the Ivy League school more famous for its Supreme Court justices than its basketball team. Diagnosed with a brain tumor, the youngster who loved SpongeBob and Snickers bars was adopted by the Princeton men's basketball team, which is playing in the second round of the NCAA tournament in Tampa today.

The adoption came about because of a group called Friends of Jaclyn. It was started several years ago by the parents of Jaclyn Murphy, a New York girl diagnosed with a brain tumor who was befriended by Northwestern University's lacrosse team. The parents saw the benefits that Jaclyn had from her interaction with the team, and developed the group which matches up sick kids with high school and college teams.

At first, Crunch was too sick to meet players from the team. Confined to Children's Hospital of Philadelphia, the boy began receiving texts and phone calls from the players. They would talk via Skype on the computer.

"It was almost like we knew them before we met them," Matthew Regulski said.

When Crunch was well enough to finally meet them in person, the moment was memorable.

"In walked these three guys and I described it like John Wayne, Bruce Willis and Clint Eastwood walking through the door, shooting the bad guys and rescuing you," the father said.

Crunch fell in love with the players. The players fell in love with him.

There were card games and video games at the Regulski house. Trips to the movies and picnic lunches. They sat on the couch, shared cookies and jokes and laughter.

They never rushed in and rushed out. They were there to be a friend, a brother, a bright spot in a little boy's very difficult life.

"All of these kids knew the risk they were taking by getting close to Chris. Every single one of them walked through the door without hesitation and grabbed Chris and hugged Chris," Matthew Regulski said. "This was not a boy coming back from a broken leg. This was a life-threatening disease. They knew the risks and they walked in with eyes open and hearts open."

When Crunch felt better, there were trips to Jadwin Gymnasium. It didn't matter if he was wearing a hospital gown and gloves and mask to fight off infections. He was finally in the place where the Tigers practiced, where they played basketball.

Eventually, he got to sit on the bench during a handful of games. The team never lost when Crunch was on the bench.

He would be in the middle of timeouts listening to Coach Sydney Johnson instruct his players. He would get high fives when players came out of the game. As he got weaker, the high fives were replaced by tapping index fingers with the players.

Kareem Maddox, a starting senior on the team, smiles when he thinks of Crunch.

He loved to play cards with the boy or take him to get ice cream at Friendly's.

"He was just always full of energy," Maddox said Wednesday after the team's practice in preparation for the game today against Kentucky. "We never heard a complaint about his struggles."

A lot of students complain about work or school or even basketball practice, Maddox said.

"It puts it in perspective when you didn't ever hear Crunch complain," he added.

Johnson, a former Princeton player himself, is amazed at the way his players have been affected by their relationship with Crunch.

"We really tried to be friends to him and just give him something to look forward to. We couldn't imagine the impact he would have on our lives," Johnson said. "I know that our players were forever affected by his joy for life, his joy for laughing. Here is a young man who is sick and is able to laugh. He is loving life. He showed us how to enjoy where we all are."

Crunch died Feb. 10, a few weeks before the Tigers advanced to the NCAA tournament with a victory over Harvard on a last-second shot.

As players gathered to cut down the nets, they summoned Crunch's 17-year-old brother, Alec, to help them. After all, the coach said, he is part of the Princeton family as well now.

The team wears a special patch honoring Crunch on its warm-up jerseys.

On their game jerseys, they wear a patch honoring Marvin Bressler, the longtime and beloved Princeton professor who also was a mentor to the basketball team for decades.

"When he passed, I cried," Johnson said. "He was someone who loved me like a father."

Gary Walters, the school's athletic director, remembers Bressler as his sociology professor in 1963. Walters, who was a basketball player, was in his freshman year; Bressler was in his freshman year of teaching as well.

"Marv's impact transcended the athletics sphere here," said Walters, who played basketball at Princeton from 1964 to 1967 and then came back to the school as athletic director in 1994. "He was someone the players could go to when they had issues that might not relate to the classroom or the basketball court."

Johnson said that Bressler, a bald man who looked like Yul Brenner and smoked a pipe, helped make him feel like he belonged. The mentor gave him confidence and helped him overcome insecurities.

Bressler's influence led Princeton to expand the mentorship program to all 38 sports at the university. More than 80 professors are involved in the effort.

"He was the pioneer," Walters said. "It sends signals that educational and athletic programs at Princeton are fully integrated, and there is a mutual respect for both."

Now, the basketball team is learning to live without both people that meant so much to it.

"Both of them taught us life lessons that we will value," the coach said. "Both of their impacts were incredible."

Most incredible, according to the father who said he lost one son but feels like he gained 16 others, was the way the team surrounded Crunch in a cocoon of love for more than a year.

"Sometimes you come across extremely special people. Sometimes you notice it and sometimes you don't," Matthew Regulski said. "There are teams with better players, but there are no teams with better men."