Basketball made Hoosier native Eric Montross famous. His good heart made him beloved
Your age will determine how you remember Eric Montross.
If you’re eligible for an AARP card, he’s the North Carolina basketball player who pestered Duke’s Christian Laettner into one of the worst performances of his career, then with the game on the line stepped up to the line and hit the clinching free throws with blood flowing down his cheek from a cut under his left eye.
If you’re a native Hoosier, you might go back even farther, to when Montross led Lawrence North High School to the 1989 state championship — and later teamed with Damon Bailey for the Indiana-Kentucky All-Star Game.
If you’re younger, he’s the voice on the radio that helped describe and analyze some equally iconic moments in the Tar Heels’ rich basketball history.
Either way, the former All-American turned broadcaster will best be remembered as a gentile giant who was loved and admired by UNC fans of all generations. Not to mention anyone else who met him along the way.
Regardless of rivalry affiliation or allegiance.
Montross died Sunday night at the age of 52. It was a shocking loss for many reasons, but none greater than the swiftness with which he lost his brief battle with cancer.
He was diagnosed only in March, forcing him to step away from his duties behind the mic this season. He is the 2nd iconic Tar Heel basketball personality to pass away over the past several weeks. UNC also lost Walter Davis, the uncle of coach Hubert Davis, on Nov. 2.
According to a statement issued by the university, Montross was “surrounded by loved ones at his home in Chapel Hill” at the time of his death.
But that statement is only partially true. It would have taken a home the size of Smith Center to hold all of those who loved him.
And that’s not an exaggeration.
“To know Eric was to be his friend,” the UNC statement said. “The family knows that the ripples from the generous, thoughtful way that he lived his life will continue in the lives of the many people he touched with his deep and sincere kindness.”
With heavy hearts we bring you this update from the family of Eric Montross.
Rest in peace Big E.
🔗: https://t.co/EgOjPTSh2B pic.twitter.com/V3TgxZDWPm
— Carolina Basketball (@UNC_Basketball) December 18, 2023
Seven feet tall, with a flat-top haircut and a double-zero jersey number that was uncommon at the time, Montross became the face of the Tar Heels from the moment he arrived on campus from his native Indiana in 1990.
He was a 2-time All-American who averaged 11.7 points and 6.8 rebounds during his 4 seasons at UNC. The highlight of his playing career came as a junior in 1993, when he started at center on the team that beat Michigan’s Fab 5 for the national championship.
He went on to play nearly a decade in the NBA before returning to his alma mater to spend the next 18 seasons as lead basketball analyst for the Tar Heels Sports Network, where he thrived working alongside the legendary Woody Durham and current play-by-play man Jones Angel.
Montross was the antithesis of the stereotypical former athlete in the broadcast booth.
He had a soothing style and a knack for describing even the most nuanced aspects of the game in a way even casual fans could understand. Although he unquestionably bled Carolina blue, an allegiance he didn’t try to hide, he never shied away from calling the Tar Heels out when the need arose.
But while basketball, both on the court and on the air, made Montross famous, it was his good heart and good works away from the game he loved that made him beloved.
Montross was a man of faith who had a kind word for virtually everyone he met. He was always available to members of the media and gave his time and name generously to charitable causes throughout North Carolina’s Triangle region.
Among his most passionate endeavors were raising money to help the Rams Club fund scholarships for athletes, hosting an annual father-son basketball camp over Father’s Day weekend and, ironically, supporting UNC’s Lineberger Cancer Center long before he was ever diagnosed with the disease that would eventually take his life.
Growing up in the area, I always knew "Big E" from his Fathers Day camp and community outreach. I only later found out he was a darn good player.
If you have a story you'd like to share about Eric Montross or know someone who does, please email me at sports@dailytarheel.com. pic.twitter.com/SKCVxMhK86
— Shelby Swanson (she/her) (@shelbymswanson) December 18, 2023
My last conversation with him was last February in an interview for a column I wrote speculating on what might have been had LeBron James been forced to play a year of college ball under today’s rules.
Rather than saying how much James would have helped the Tar Heels, perhaps to a national title in 2003-04, Montross talked about how much James would have benefited personally from playing for coach Roy Williams and spending a year in the UNC culture.
“In our basketball museum, there’s a Chicago Bulls championship ring on display,” he said. “It’s one that Michael (Jordan) gave Coach (Dean) Smith after every championship they won. He did it because he believed that without his time at Carolina, he would not have been as good as he was.
“When you think about the impact of a college coach on a terrific young player, that reflection may give us some insight into what it might have been like had LeBron experienced a great coach in college even for a year.”
We then spent almost 30 minutes chatting about the chemistry issues that would eventually keep his alma mater out of last season’s NCAA Tournament, the UNC-Duke rivalry, and of course, his role in that infamous “Bloody Montross” game in 1982.
He told me the wound was caused by incidental contact during a scrum under the basket and that he wasn’t trying to make a statement by continuing to play with that trickle of blood on his cheek. In fact, it had been stitched up earlier in the game and he didn’t realize he was still bleeding.
While that’s the moment for which he’s most often associated, Montross said that his own most vivid memory of his time at UNC was cutting down the nets as a national champion.
A warrior or a champion. A player, broadcaster or philanthropist. It doesn’t matter how you choose to remember Eric Montross.
Either way, he’ll be missed.