They may be small, but they blaze bright red against an oversized map of Illinois. One round bulb shines in the far west, and one sits at the very top of the state, almost into Wisconsin.

They are the survivors. Over the past four days, the lights of the other fourteen competitors have wavered, blinked, and then fallen dark, one by one, until only these two — the two high schools that will meet to decide the Illinois state basketball championship — remain.

To get here, to make it through to this last game in Huff Gymnasium on this chilly March evening in 1952, each team has had to pass through a grueling, month-long elimination tournament. One loss and the season was done.

Now only a single game remains. Two lights still shine.

The light on the left side of the map, set into a wide curve of the Mississippi north of St. Louis, represents perennial power Quincy. Quincy won the state championship in 1934, and over the last eleven years, the school has appeared in the Sweet Sixteen nine times. The Blue Devils are still stinging from a last-second loss in last year’s semifinals that cost them a chance at the state championship. They can’t help but see this game as a golden opportunity for vindication.

With 1,035 students in three grades, Quincy Senior High School is one of the largest schools in the state outside the city of Chicago. Quincy has a pool of 480 boys to choose from, fielding three levels of basketball teams and keeping 45 players in training.

In contrast, the high school in Hebron, where the other light shines, has a total enrollment of 98. There are far more cows than people in the Alden-Hebron school district.

To make it this far, Hebron’s plucky Green Giants have defeated a series of teams from much larger schools. The imposing foes they’ve vanquished along the way include former state champs Elgin and Champaign as well as mighty Rock Island. Each of these schools could swallow Hebron’s entire student body without having to add so much as a single teacher or classroom.

Most of the people crowded into the stands at Huff Gym, squinting up at those two small lights high overhead, realize that it’s an amazing, once-in-a-lifetime occurrence for a team like Hebron to get this far. No school with so few students has ever won the state basketball championship. Only a handful of schools Hebron’s size have even reached the Sweet Sixteen.

Across the gym floor, Quincy enters the arena with pride and presence. If anyone belongs here, it’s these blue-chip Blue Devils, with their long-standing basketball traditions, superlative facilities and coaches, and huge, faithful following. Year in and year out, Quincy fans back a winner.

Against this kind of competition, Hebron seems like the longest of long shots. This tiny school tests fate every time it takes the court. The Green Giants can’t possibly win. Or can they?

As those two small lights flicker above their heads, it’s as if the crowd holds its collective breath. Their heads tell them that Quincy will prevail. But in their hearts...

In their hearts, they’re hoping against hope that the little guy can pull out a victory, one more time.

Around town, sportswriters began beating down doors looking for interviews. The Chicago dailies picked up the scent again, sending out writers and photographers to document the latest episode in the Hebron saga. Russ Ahearn worked the press like a pro, frequently flashing his trademark wit. His ability to turn a phrase only added to the affection the public felt for the small-town team.

When Bud Nangle of the Chicago Daily News asked him whether there was any pressure on the team, Ahearn replied, "The only fellow who puts on the heat is the school’s maintenance engineer, Ray Scholl, and he has a license."

The next game on the chart, a big-time match-up at Oak Park, was one of Ahearn’s most brilliant additions to the Green Giant schedule. It was tiny Hebron versus giant Oak Park, and the big-city press played up the David-and-Goliath angle to the hilt. Fans were eager to see if the slick suburban squad, ranked No. 13 in the state in the latest UP poll, would be able to send the milk-town boys packing.

It was also the best chance all winter for basketball fans from Chicago — the city of Nat "Sweetwater" Clifton and Bob Gruenig, of George Mikan and Johnny Kerr — to see Hebron in action. Most of Hebron’s games were played far from the city, but the village of Oak Park was just past the Chicago city limits. Since Oak Park played its home games in a massive field house, there just might be tickets available. Throughout the week, the phones rang off the hook in the office of the Oak Park athletic director as Chicago fans tried to secure seats.

When Friday night came and Hebron’s contingent pulled into the parking lot after the long drive, the players and coaches were amazed at the rows upon rows of cars and constant stream of fans flooding the entrance. Once inside the field house, they eyed the assembling crowd with astonishment. The junior varsity game was almost an hour away, and already the stands were packed.

Inside the field house, Oak Park’s playing floor sat atop a cinder track. To prevent players from accidentally tracking cinders onto the floor, a suspended net enclosed the court, separating it from the stands. The scene was reminiscent of a bygone era when many basketball courts were surrounded by metal cages, a temporary contrivance whose lasting legacy to the game was the term "cager." For those fans who had never attended a game at Oak Park, the odd netted contraption only added to the circus atmosphere. The only thing missing was a flying trapeze.

The fans grew more boisterous as the opening game progressed. When the final gun sounded, Hebron’s JV team retreated to the showers to cool down before the marquee match-up, while Oak Park’s team — a dozen strong on the varsity — took the floor to a roar of applause. The much-anticipated event was under way.

Down in the locker room, Ahearn held his varsity players back. There were only five of them, after all, and with such a small number it wouldn’t take long to get warmed up. Out in the field house, Oak Park went through its paces at one end of the court while the crowd stomped and shouted, anxious for some action on the Hebron side. They’d heard all about these Green Giants and how amazing they were. So where in the world were they?

As a coach, Ahearn was all business, but some of it was undoubtedly show business. When the cheering finally hit a crescendo, he sent out his seven-year-old son, Billy, dressed in a miniature Hebron uniform with the number 0, to lead the charge from the locker room. Billy was followed closely by the towering Bill Schulz, the Judsons, Wilbrandt, and Spooner, in that order. From tiny Billy Ahearn to tall Bill Schulz, with only four other players bringing up the rear — the abbreviated parade provided a startling image in the huge gym.

"I think you forgot some of your players!" someone shouted from the stands, as everyone laughed. Despite all the publicity, Hebron’s lack of numbers never really hit home without seeing the team in person.

But the crowd loved it. Hebron managed to be a sideshow attraction and the main event, all rolled into one.

Finally the battle of the giants got under way. Oak Park featured a center named Jim Duncan, who competed with Bill Schulz for the honor of tallest player in the state. Both were touted at 6-10½. It was an unprecedented meeting. No one had ever seen two boys this big face off on a high school basketball court.

The nervous excitement seemed to rub off on the players, as neither team played well in the first quarter. But in the second period Hebron slowly pulled away, as Phil Judson, who had lost almost ten pounds after battling the flu all week, ran circles around the slower Oak Park team. But as good as he was at driving and shooting, it was his rebounding that awed the spectators. At 6-foot-2, he was not tall for a forward, but he had great vertical leap and an uncanny knack for being in the right place at the right time.

Phil ended up the leading scorer for Hebron with 15 points. In the duel of the centers, Duncan, a senior, outscored Schulz, a junior, 15 to 11. But with five Green Giants scoring in double figures, Hebron won easily, 63-55.

As always, Ahearn was gracious after the game. "Oak Park provided the stiffest test we’ve had yet," he said, leaving the underlying impression that no team had really given Hebron a stiff test so far.

And yet, there was no disputing the psychological impact of winning back-to-back games played before crowds of up to 4,000 fans each, against two of the best teams around.

"We’re awfully happy about this," was all the coach could say.

Late that evening, switchboards began to light up at newspapers around northern Illinois. The Associated Press and Chicago Tribune sports desks fielded dozens of inquiries about the game. At the Woodstock Sentinel, the phones rang like election night. For every fan who got through, many more received busy signals. One frustrated fan finally called the police looking for the score.

Hebron-mania had begun.