Yesterday, a grand player, a great teammate, and a special friend passed on. Unless you played with Dolph, you could never really appreciate how good he really was.

He was not particularly athletic but he could rebound with the best of them, and he could shoot, equally well, with both hands.

In one play-off series, limited by a broken right hand, he still managed to average 14 points a game — shooting left-handed.

Most recall him for his high-arcing, two-hand set shots, but people close to him remember his desire for the three-point play … or, more specifically, what USED to be the three-point play.

Having the defender beaten off the dribble, he purposely would slow up just enough so as to draw contact and complete the “and one.” He did this because he scarcely ever missed a free throw.

My first years in Syracuse, he made me stay after practice to shoot free throws. We would play games of ten but, after a while, it was obvious who was the best. So, to even the playing field, Dolph said, “If my free throws hit the rim, they don’t count.”

I still never won a game from him.