Danny Rochford: Legendary Friar's tragic tale comes to an end

From the Jersey Journal's All-County Team, 1976

The late Danny Rochford

It was the summer of 1975, a scalding early August afternoon. I was doing what I did for almost every single day that summer, going to my best friend John Rochford’s house on Lembeck Avenue in Jersey City and dragging him out to the St. Paul’s School courtyard to play basketball.

It had become a habit, especially after the St. Paul’s Recreation Summer League had come to an end. Roch and I went to play “up the court” daily and hoped that others would follow suit. If not, then we had some brutal one-on-one games that lasted long into the afternoon and would end with a walk to Schmidt’s Corner on Pearsall for a 16-ounce bottle of cold Pepsi.

There was another habit I had in going to the Rochford house for the majority of my childhood into my teenage days. I never once rang the bell in my life.

Not once. In fact, I don’t even know if the doorbell even rang. Sure, there was a button there, but I don’t think it ever made a ringing sound. It didn’t matter. I never rang the damn thing. I just opened the door and walked right in, like I was a member of the enormous Rochford family – which, in reality, I really was a Rochford, just without the name.

On this particular hot August day, I opened the door and walked in, like I had done thousands of times in my young life. And incredibly, there wasn’t a Rochford in the house at all. I mean, you had a good shot of finding one, considering Mr. Rochford (Pat) and Mrs. Rochford (Joan) lived there and there were eight children: Patrick Kenneth, Daniel Thomas, Mary Anne, John Theodore, Paul Brian, Karen Frances, June Marie and Suzanne Michelle (Mrs. Rochford called each child by their full name every time they were summoned).

But this day, there were no Rochfords in the house, just one very famous man sitting on the couch. I was absolutely stunned to find Lefty Driesell sitting on the Rochford couch.

“Well, hello,” said the man sitting on the couch, already a college basketball legend from his days at Davidson and then the University of Maryland. “Are you a Rochford?”

“No, I’m not a Rochford, Coach Driesell, but I can imagine why you’re here,” I said.

“Oh, young man, you know who I am,” the Hall of Fame coach said.

“Of course I know you, Coach,” I said. “I’m a big fan.”

Yes, by the age of 14, I was a very huge college basketball fan. I wasn’t yet huge in size. Those days were quickly on the horizon. But I was an avid fan of college basketball, going back to the days of Lew Alcindor, then Bill Walton at UCLA and David Thompson and Tom Burleson at North Carolina State and Ernie DiGregorio and Marvin Barnes at Providence – and John Lucas, Len Elmore and Tom McMillan with Coach Drissell at Maryland.

Saturday afternoons were spent watching the ECAC game of the Week, featuring schools like Holy Cross, Fordham, Iona and even St. Peter’s, then there was the syndicated national game of the week that would feature Notre Dame with Austin Carr, John Shumate and Adrian Dantley.

So there was Lefty Driesell, sitting in the Rochford living room, and there I was with him.

“Coach, I think I know why you’re here,” I said to Driesell. “You want to see Danny.”

Danny Rochford was already a sensational basketball player at St. Anthony, one of the first legendary players in coach Bob Hurley’s rich and storied coaching career with the fabulous Friars.

Danny was 6-foot-6, yet he played like he was a 5-foot-10 point guard. His ball handling skills were incredible. He could make a bounce pass through his legs while on a fast break. He could put the ball around his back and confuse defenses like “Pistol” Pete Maravich.

Danny could shoot the lights out of the basket and then some. He played relentless, nasty defense and rebounded like he was 7 feet tall. Danny could then take the ball off the backboard and drive the length of the floor and make the shot. Danny had no flaws as a basketball player, absolutely none.

The St. Paul’s courtyard had developed its fair share of excellent basketball players over the 40-plus years that there were baskets there. And no one could argue that Danny was the best player to ever come out of that courtyard.

Neil Rosa came out of St. Paul’s, went to Marist and became the school’s first-ever 1,000-point scorer, and then on to Bentley College and eventually UMass/Amherst. Neil was the best to come out of the St. Paul’s courtyard – and then Danny came along.

In fact, Danny was so good that he knew he was the king of the St. Paul’s courts.

“I have to be the all-time leading scorer in courtyard history,” Danny once proclaimed. “I must have scored two million points.”

That’s because Danny was always up the courtyard playing basketball. Oh, Danny was a great athlete. In the aforementioned summer league, Danny was a dominating football player and a good baseball player, but basketball was his sport. He was so good that you thought Danny owned the ball when he played. And Danny was always fine tuning his game in the courtyard.

So when Lefty Driesell asked where Danny Rochford was, I said, “I can take you to him.”

And I walked Coach Driesell up Lembeck Avenue to see Danny Rochford.

Danny went on to have a brilliant senior season at St. Anthony, averaging 18 points, seven rebounds and five assists per game, leading the Friars to one of their countless NJSIAA state championships. He earned All-Hudson County First Team honors with Darryl Strickland of Ferris, Luke Griffin of St. Mary’s, Chuck Wilt of Weehawken and Mike O’Koren of Hudson Catholic.

O’Koren and Rochford had a war in the 1975 HCIAA Championship game, the last one held at the Jersey City Armory. In front of nearly 4,000 people, O’Koren’s Hawks defeated Rochford and the Friars, 63-53, a game for the ages.

“Nothing was easy when you played against Danny,” O’Koren said. “Danny was very physical and played every play hard. He was as tough as they came. He was a tenacious defender and he played on some great teams.”

O’Koren and Rochford were both named First Team All-Parochial by the Star-Ledger.

After high school, Rochford went to American International College in Springfield, Massachusetts, where he was coached by another coaching legend – namely Jim Larranaga, who later coached George Mason to the NCAA Final Four in 2006 and is now the head coach at the University of Miami.

Bob Hurley recalled an incredible game that Rochford enjoyed at AIC.

“He scored the last 18 points of the game in a game that AIC won in overtime,” Hurley recalled. “Jim Larranaga begged Danny not to go home (to Jersey City) after the game, but Danny did. It was the last time Larranaga ever heard from Danny.”

By that time, Danny was already battling demons – and those demons turned out to be the opponent he couldn’t beat. In perhaps one of the biggest tragedies to ever happen to Jersey City basketball, Danny Rochford suffered a breakdown, was relegated to an almost catatonic state for several years and found himself walking aimlessly around the streets of Jersey City.

That journey ended Wednesday when Danny Rochford passed away at the age of 62. According to his sister Mary Anne, Danny spent the last seven years of his life clean and sober and was generally a happy soul.

But when one thinks of Danny Rochford’s life, there’s always one question: What if?

What if Danny Rochford stayed in Springfield that fateful night instead of going back home? What if he became the college basketball superstar that he was destined to become? What if he became a 1,000-point scorer in college and went on to play professional basketball overseas? What if he came home and became a respected coach? What if it all didn’t happen to Danny when it did?

It’s an answer no one could ever muster. That’s what makes it such a tragedy. And now, his life is over. It’s such a sad tale with an even sadder ending. Sometimes, the basketball gods aren’t as kind as people think they are. Even the all-time leading scorer in St. Paul’s courtyard history can fall victim to the demons.

Danny Rochford spent the last 42 years of his life walking aimlessly through the streets of Jersey City. What could have been? We’ll never know.

Danny Rochford is survived by his seven brothers and sisters. His parents passed away years ago.