A remarkable Noon Hoops tradition at Marquette University is proving that some rituals can outlast generations, campus policy changes and even the natural grind of time. Twice a week, a mixed group of professors, lawyers, alumni and students still meets at the Straz Rec Plex for a lunchtime run that has quietly become one of the university’s most enduring social anchors.
In a world where lunch breaks are often swallowed by laptops, meetings and traffic, this one still belongs to the old-school believers. The group’s routine is simple: when the clock hits noon, the basketballs come out. There are no coaches, no formal league tables and no glossy trophies waiting at the end. Just a few decades’ worth of basketball habits, friendships and good-natured competition packed into an hour or so between work and the rest of the day.
What makes Noon Hoops stand out is not only its age, but its stubborn consistency. The tradition has lasted for nearly 40 years, and some of the men who helped shape it are still showing up, still playing and still arguing over who gets credit for the most points. In many ways, it has become a living time capsule — one that has survived because the people inside it kept returning, week after week, year after year.
“I’ve always enjoyed playing with them,” Tom Lonzo, a 1984 Arts & Sciences graduate, said. “Although people have come and gone, it’s been a good group of guys. We’ve all gotten along together.”
That sense of continuity is what gives Noon Hoops its character. Unlike a typical campus club that turns over every four years, this group has an unusually durable core. Some players have been part of the action since their undergraduate days. Others joined later, then simply never left. A few are now well into their 60s and still moving with enough energy to keep the games competitive.
Among them is Cy Cullen, who at 67 is still known for sprinting end to end and landing the shots that matter most. Jeff Jensen, now 66, remembers a time when Marquette men’s basketball players would occasionally drop in during the 1980s, turning an ordinary lunch run into something closer to an impromptu showdown. “I was in a noon ball game with Doc Rivers one time,” he said.
That kind of memory matters here. It gives the group a deeper sense of place — one tied not just to basketball, but to the broader Marquette story. For some, the games are a way to stay connected to a university that shaped their adult lives. For others, it is simply the best part of the workday.
Why Noon Hoops remains a Marquette University focus keyword story
The Noon Hoops focus keyword may sound like a niche campus phrase, but the tradition says a lot about the way communities hold together over time. The games are played every Monday and Thursday, usually allowing for three or four games in a single lunch break. Teams play to 15 points, then the roster gets shuffled and the next match begins. It is a rhythm the regulars know by heart.
The squad has also had to adapt. They used to play three days a week — Monday, Wednesday and Friday — and the guest-friendly environment they once enjoyed has become harder to maintain as university rules tightened over time. Their earlier home at Helfaer Recreation was not as accessible once attendance policies changed, especially because many of the players are no longer directly affiliated with the university.
Even the uniforms became part of that evolution. For more than 40 years, the group reportedly relied on a shirts versus skins system, a low-maintenance approach that suited the informal nature of the games. That finally changed in November 2025, when campus recreation stepped in and the players began using proper jerseys.
The style of play, however, has stayed largely the same. Lonzo says the group prides itself on a more traditional, disciplined approach. “We’d like to say that we’re more traditional,” he said. “We set picks and we get rebounds and are not real flashy with driving to the basket.”
That old-school mindset is part of the appeal. The players know one another well enough to anticipate passes, cover for one another on defence and work around the limitations that come with age. The younger additions bring speed and hustle. The veterans bring spacing, timing and years of shared experience. It is not glamorous, but it works.
One of those newer faces is Mehrzad Moin, a graduate student in the College of Arts and Sciences, who was invited to join after a group needed one extra player several years ago. He thought it would be a one-off run. Instead, he found himself becoming part of a recurring lunchtime ritual that has kept going ever since.
At the heart of the operation is Jerry Grzeca, a 1988 Marquette Law School graduate, who has become the unofficial team organiser. He divides the sides with a careful hand, making sure the matchups remain balanced enough to be fun while still competitive enough to matter.
“The old guys are limited in their capabilities, and it’s okay to understand that,” he said. “It’s no fun, frankly, for a bunch of old guys to play against each other. We need the young guys.”
That might sound blunt, but it reflects the group’s honesty about what keeps the games enjoyable. Nobody is pretending to be in their 20s anymore. The point is to keep moving, keep competing and keep showing up.
There is also a competitive edge beneath all the nostalgia. Joe Schimmels, a professor in the College of Engineering, said student teams used to arrive thinking they could out-athlete the regulars. More often than not, they found that experience and teamwork counted for more than raw speed.
“It’s not an individual game. It’s a team game,” he said.
That team spirit has recently been tested by loss. One of the original players, Mike Hawthorne, known affectionately as “Iron Mike”, died two months ago after a battle with cancer. Lonzo described him as “built like a fireplug”, and said the group attended his funeral on March 5.
His absence has left a visible gap in the gym. The games continue, but the room feels different without him. For a group built on routine and friendship, that kind of loss changes everything. Lonzo recalled an unspoken set play they shared for years — a simple sequence of movement and trust that never needed a call. “I miss him,” he said.
Even so, the crew keeps coming back because Noon Hoops is about more than basketball. For some, it is stress relief from demanding careers. Jensen joked that the choice is between getting to the gym or risking the pressure of legal work catching up with him. For others, it is exercise, a way to stay sharp and active. A few have even added pickleball to the mix.
For Cullen, who grew up on 14th and Capitol Drive and graduated from Marquette in the 1980s, the appeal is also deeply personal. It keeps him close to the place that helped shape his life.
And that may be the real reason this tradition has endured. Not because it is polished, or official, or even particularly efficient. It has lasted because the people involved see it as a gift — a steady, familiar part of the week that gives them community, movement and memory all at once.
“If you can find something like this in your life and sustain it, it’s a gift,” Grzeca said.
For Marquette, and for everyone still turning up at the Straz Rec Plex twice a week, Noon Hoops is proof that some of the strongest traditions are built not in grand halls or stadiums, but in ordinary lunch breaks that keep turning into something much bigger.