As Chuck Everson sat in the hospital room, pins stuck in his surgically repaired hip after a six-hour procedure, he let out a roar of laughter so loud it echoed down the hallways. A bemused nurse popped her head in to see what the commotion was about. There sat Everson alone, laughing uproariously at a meme on his phone of Jack Black from Gulliver's Travels, tied down by the Lilliputians. The nurse asked if Everson was having some sort of party.  "No,'' he replied still laughing, "it's these idiots I used to play ball with.''
 
To the rest of the world, the idiots make up the most magical group of college basketball national champions in the sport's history. Forty years ago, Villanova upset Georgetown in a game so epic it still resonates four decades later. The Wildcats' mastery of the mighty Hoyas has been replayed and rehashed, dissected and discussed to the point that most Villanova fans young and old know its history.
 
What's perhaps as magical as those 40 minutes of perfect hoops – and maybe even a little more as time keeps moving on - is what's happened since.  The bond forged in 1985 is as strong now as it was then, the players following the technological evolution to remain connected first via phone call, then by email and now by a group text that dings and pings on the regular. 
 
Most of that vibrant group returns to Villanova this week to celebrate the 40^th anniversary of its remarkable achievement. The 1984-85 Wildcats will be honored at halftime Friday evening as Villanova hosts BIG EAST rival Providence at the Wells Fargo Center at 7 p.m. The evening also marks Men's Basketball Alumni Night, when 'Cats of all eras are welcomed back. Tickets remain available and can be purchased by clicking the link above.
 
Filled mostly with good good-natured ribbing, a la the Gulliver meme meant to poke fun at the thought of the oversized Everson stuck in a hospital bed, the thread is a lot more than just a bunch of old guys reliving their glory days.  It is the essence of what made that team great, and what Villanova has always strived to be as a program. The word 'family' gets tossed around a lot in college sports; the '85 text chain is proof that at Villanova it really exists. "Aside from getting to play in one of the all-time greatest college basketball games in history,'' says Mark Plansky, "I got to be part of the greatest brotherhood that's still going all these years later.''
 
The foundation was built at a kitchen table. Long before even the notion of a cellphone existed, Rollie Massimino would bring his team together for group chats. Sunday practices often morphed into Eagles' watch parties (back before a TV in a dorm was even a concept), and over plates of heaping pasta served by Massimino's wife, Mary Jane, the Wildcats sowed the seeds of their family. Bonded initially by their accomplishment, the players realized after they stopped playing that the relationships Massimino forged ran a lot deeper than traditional teammate connection. Theirs was a real family, a group forced together by chance and stuck together by choice.
 
While Massimino built the foundation, it is Everson who serves as the connective tissue.
"Longest lasting three minutes of playing time in college basketball history,'' Plansky jokes about the sparingly used Everson.  And then adds more seriously, "Chuck is the man. He's the guy that gets this all done.'' Everson did not set out to become the team's social planner. The whole thing started unintentionally.
 
Back in '85, Villanova produced a calendar, featuring a different player for each month. It also included their birthdays. After the '85 season ended, Everson took it upon himself to call everyone on their birthday. Over time, his teammates came to expect the call and would gently rib Everson if he forgot someone. Once email came along, Everson would drop a note and with the advent of texting, he decided to not just send his own messages, but to connect everyone together as well. The text chain was born.
 
Other teams soon got wind of it, and now Everson is part of more text chains than he can keep track of.  There's a 2016 team thread and another for the 2018 squad. Guys who played for Massimino have one, as do those who played for Steve Lappas and Jay Wright. But the '85 squad is especially active. Their thread includes not just every player but the four managers, assistant coaches and until he passed in 2017, Massimino chimed in as well. 
 
Even as his players moved well into adulthood, the coach remained the coach. In 2015, when the Wildcats earned the No. 1 seed in the NCAA Tournament, someone posed an innocuous question: who would win, the '85 squad or the 2015? Around most watercoolers and watering holes, that might spark real debate. On the text chain it instead dissolved into immediate chop busting. Ed Pinckney suggested Mark Plansky couldn't even make the 2015 team and Plansky retorted that Pinckney would struggle in 2015 since "you have to shoot the ball outside of two feet.'' The whole thing might have continued all day had Massimino not put a halt to it. "Don't you guys have jobs?" the coach asked. "And you know what?" Plansky says with a laugh. "We all went back to work. It's like when he used to tell us to get our butts to class. Nothing changed. He was still Daddy Mass.''
 
The chain is filled largely with that sort of gentle smack talk, the kind only lifelong friends can get away with, and goofy memes sent entirely to get a laugh. The preternaturally confident Plansky earned the nickname 'Jesus,' back when he was a freshman on the '85 squad. On an afternoon a few years ago, he and Everson were enjoying a boat ride on Plansky's boat – aptly named What's Ahoy-A – when Everson spied a dog seemingly running across the water, courtesy of a sandbar. A few minutes later, the '85 squad had a video of Plansky "walking on water,'' set to the soundtrack of Jesus Christ Superstar.
 
But the players are there when the time calls for more than just a good chuckle.. When Dwight Wilbur's mother recently passed, his teammates sent their condolences and when Plansky welcomed a grandchild, his phone pinged to life immediately. If Rob Wilson, the team manager known as 'Stats,' is in some teammate's hometown with the Miami Heat (he's been with the NBA squad for 25 years), he's quick to ask who needs tickets. Harold Pressley's sister, Vanessa, hosted Everson's daughter, Kathleen, when she visited Robert Morris with her Bryant women's basketball team, and on a recent visit to the Orange Bowl, Plansky sent Dwayne McClain a message, telling him to meet him at a nearby sports bar for dinner.
 
Their timeless and effortless fraternity may sound normal; it is anything but. Post Villanova, Plansky played in the NBA as well as overseas. Later he worked as an ESPN TV analyst. During his travels, he'd regularly run into old Big East foes. Invariably they'd ask if he'd heard from any of his teammates. "Heard from them? We talk all the time,'' Plansky would answer. "And not a single one of them has had the experience we've had,'' Plansky says. "They're always amazed when I tell them about it. How my kids call Ed Pinckney Uncle Ed, and everyone knows what everyone is up to. I can't explain it or why it happened."
 
Plansky pauses and then laughs. "I guess it's just Villanova.''