Remembering Billy Hahn

Back in early April I lost one the most amazing, loyal and caring friends I’ve ever known. It’s taken me a few months to write about him because every time I started it became too difficult to continue. After a few starts and stops I finally found my footing and finished my story of the incredible Billy Hahn . . .

I first met Billy Hahn back in the summer of 1985. I was an assistant coach at Greenfield McClain in southern Ohio and was working a basketball camp at Ohio University. Billy was an assistant coach under Danny Nee there. It seems hard to believe now but Billy was 32 and I was 29. We hit it off immediately and it was the beginning of a life-long friendship.

The next season Coach Nee left for Nebraska and Billy was named the new Ohio University Head Coach. Over Billy’s 3-years at OU I began going to games and practices all the time, and of course myself and my teams never missed his legendary summer camps. Southern Ohio coaches still talk about Billy’s camps and all the fun we had there. I still recall all the great coaches I met there, including Jay Rees, Carl Wolf, Rick Scarberry, Joe Pangrazio, Geno Ford, Fran Fraschilla, Jay Wolfe and many many more. Trust me, there were no other camps like them anywhere and Billy is still loved in Athens by many people to this day.

About the time Billy was let go at OU I was named Head Coach at Paint Valley High School. I recall sitting in The Pub in Athens with Billy having lunch and I asked him what his next step would be. He said he’d been offered something but it wasn’t official yet. Then it hit me – Gary Williams had just left Ohio State to take the job at his alma mater, the University of Maryland. I asked him if he was going to Maryland (Billy’s alma mater too) with Gary and he just turned, tapped his beer to the bottle in my hand and smiled.

This was all happening in early May, and Maryland’s summer camps were just around the corner, in late June. A week or so after that meeting in The Pub Billy called and asked if I’d help get that first Maryland camp off the ground. Long story short that first camp had probably 50 kids from several southern Ohio schools as well as 12 coaches that I’d recruited to go to College Park with me to help.

All this led a long relationship with the University of Maryland, Coach Gary Williams, and of course my friendship with Billy only grew stronger. Those Maryland Camps were incredible, just like OU’s had been.

While at Maryland Billy Hahn became one of the greatest college recruiters of all-time. During his coaching career he recruited Tony Massenburg, Jerrod Mustaf, Keith Booth, Sarunas Jasikevicius, Laron Profit, Terence Morris, Obinna Ekezie, Steve Francis, Chris Wilcox, Lonny Baxter, Steve Blake, and Juan Dixon from Maryland alone. At OU he’d recruited legends Paul “Snoopy” Graham and Dave Jamerson. At LaSalle he’d future NBA players Steven Smith and Rasual Butler. All told Billy recruited 27 NBA players in an amazing career.

From 1989 to 2002 I worked camps in College Park. I respect Gary Williams more than just about anybody, putting him right up there with Bob Huggins and Billy. After all, the man took a program at Maryland that was in shambles after the death of Len Bias in the late 1980s and led them to a National Title in 2002. It’s one of the most incredible rebuilding jobs in the history of college basketball. He retired with a 33-year record of 668-380 and was inducted into the College Basketball Hall of Fame in 2014.

Legend.

Of course, I coached at all those Maryland Camps solely because of my friendship with Billy. None of it would have ever happened without him. I was the Camp Commissioner, which basically meant I didn’t do much but sort of oversee everything that went on during the week and make sure everyone showed up and taught what Gary wanted taught. Why was a high school coach from a small southern Ohio high school given the cushiest job at camp, a job that was handed to me over around 60 other high school, college and international coaches from all over the Eastern Seaboard and beyond?

You guessed it. Billy Hahn.

And man, I fostered some long-term relationships there, meeting many amazing coaches who have gone on to success since then. Guys like Jimmy Patsos who assisted Gary and also coached at Loyola (MD) and Siena College, Dave Dickerson (went on to assist at Ohio State, HC at Tulane, HC at Upstate South Carolina and now Associate HC back at Ohio State), Mike Lonergan, (coached at the University of Vermont and George Washington University), and successful high school and college coaches such as Mike Glick (now at Meade HS in Maryland), Josh Pratt (Archbishop Spaulding in Maryland), Andy Sachs (Salisbury University and Chesapeake College), Louis Twigg (LaSalle, Bowling Green and others – now with the NBA Academy in China) among many others.

I also met Coach Paul Coughter, who was the National Coach of Greece at the time. Coach Coughter was instrumental in getting me involved with basketball on the Caribbean island of Montserrat, and for that I’ll always be grateful.

Who recommended me to Coach Coughter as his replacement to train players on the gorgeous island nation of Montserrat?

Billy Hahn.

In addition, I was lucky enough to meet amazing players like Joe Smith, Steve Francis, Lonnie Baxter, Steve Blake, Walt “The Wizard” Williams, and many many more. Guys like Manute Bol and Chris Webber used to show up for evening workouts back then too.

Some of my greatest experiences involved meeting former Terp legends like Mo Howard and Len Elmore. Those two gentlemen in particular couldn’t have been nicer to me.

Billy used to give me seats in Row 1 right behind the Maryland bench during those times, and since College Park was near Washington DC (and Maryland was really good) a lot of celebrities would be at the games. People like Carl Bernstein, Robert Novak, Tony Kornheiser, Scott Van Pelt (a UM alum), and Michael Wilbon, all sat near me. I once sat by Steve Bisciotti, the owner of the Baltimore Ravens and founder of Under Armor, for an entire half before somebody told me who he was. I also distinctly remember a guy sitting beside me once that I thought looked familiar, like a distant uncle or something. I said hello and as we chatted it hit me . . . I was talking to Johnny Unitas.

I saw some amazing games there, including several contests against Duke, North Carolina, and Kentucky. Incredible memories for sure.

I met some of the greats through Billy – Jay Wright, Mike Krzyzewski, Bob Knight, Roy Williams, Bobby Cremins, Larry Shyatt, Rick Pitino, John Calipari, Dean Smith, Terry Holland, Jim Calhoun, Bill Self, Rick Barnes, John Chaney, Jerry Tarkanian and countless others. I sat in their coach’s offices and watched their private practices and game day walk throughs. One call from Billy and their doors would open. The one thing all these coaches had in common was that they treated me with respect, simply because of this fact – if Billy liked me I was good enough for them.

In an incredibly lucky twist of fate for me, Billy was hired to coach with my friend Bob Huggins in 2007 at West Virginia after a 3-year stint at LaSalle. Not only did this change my 6 1/2 -hour trip to camp in College Park to a 3 1/2 hour trip to Morgantown, it changed my summer plans from working at the University of Cincinnati and the University of Maryland to one all inclusive camp in Morgantown.

It was perfect.

During Billy’s years in Morgantown I was lucky enough to meet players like Da’Sean Butler, Jevon Carter, Kevin Jones, Joe Alexander, Juwan Staten, Devin Ebanks, and Alex Ruoff. I also met people like current Interim coach Josh Eilers, Coach Ron Everhart and Coach Erik Martin. And yes, I had the pleasure of meeting WVU legends Fred Schaus, Hot Rod Hundley and the logo himself, my childhood hero Jerry West.

I could tell many stories from camp but I won’t, mainly because what happened in College Park and Morgantown needs to stay in College Park and Morgantown. Trust me on that one. Let’s just say I’m pretty sure Jimmy Patsos saved my life once, and local guys like Craig Kerns, Joe Holbert, Joe Wills, Daron Myers, Thad Haines, Dave Tallman, Roman Diekan, Eric Snyder, Jason Smith, Shayne Combs and John Snyder would probably pay me to keep my mouth shut. Just kidding. Maybe it wasn’t that bad.

Maybe.

Bottom line, absolutely none of this would have happened without my friend Billy Hahn. I wouldn’t have met all those amazing college, international and high school coaches, I’d never have met all those NBA players, and I’d never have gone to the Caribbean where I still have relationships with people to this day that I cherish.

It was all because of Billy. He believed in me as a coach and as a human being. Billy was a man that was woven deeply into the fabric of my life, and my life will never be the same without him.

If I had to name the one most important thing I learned from Billy Hahn, it’s that life is all about relationships. No matter what occupation you’re in, relationships always matter most in each and every one of them. Billy was also the epitome of a straight shooter who would, without fail, tell me exactly what he was thinking even if he thought I might not like it. You simply cannot put a price on that kind of honesty.

Now he’s gone, and a huge part of a lot of people’s hearts are too. His wife Kathi, his son Matty and his daughter Ashley lost their hero, and I lost mine too. But trust me, nobody will ever forget Billy Hahn. His impact was so strong and lasting that he’ll be remembered forever. Just try mentioning his name to anyone who knew him without getting a smile in return.

You can’t.

Anyone who knew Billy has heard him talk about the Basketball Gods. I’m guessing he’s with them now, and I can see them sitting around him in the bleachers in a gym somewhere, listening and laughing to his jokes and stories.

Rest in peace my brother, and say hello to everyone for me.

We’ll all be along soon.

Rating the Arenas

I’ve always been a big gym guy. I love to walk into high school gyms when I’m out of town, look at the banners, old team photos, all of that stuff really fascinates me. I also love the college and NBA arenas too, although I’ve been to many more college facilities than pros. That said, I was talking with a friend the other day she was asking me where my favorite place to watch a basketball game would be. Aha! Writing material. What follows are some of the favorite arenas I have been to personally and my thoughts regarding each. I’ve omitted high school gyms because really, nothing compares to Donald E. Anderson Gymnasium, better know as The Jigger. Aaaaand we’re off . . .

Cole Field House, College Park, MD – Ah, Cole Field House on the campus of the beautiful University of Maryland. I worked summer camps there from 1989-2003 and became a big Terrapin fan, thanks to my friends Billy Hahn and Gary Williams. Cole was an old, hangar shaped, no air conditioned monstrosity, and God was it awesome. I was behind the bench for many a Maryland game, and when Duke, North Carolina or a number of other teams rolled into that place it rocked. The Maryland student section was insane, man. Here’s something I wrote about my experiences there: Memories of College Park. The story I tell at the end illustrates what Cole Field House meant to Hall of Famer Gary Williams. Cole also hosted the historic 1966 National Championship game where an all black Texas Western team coached by Don Haskins beat the all white Kentucky squad led by Adolph Rupp. Bottom line, I put Cole Field House at the top of my list regarding basketball arenas. And oh, the new Xfinity Center is great but it ain’t Cole.

St. John Arena, Columbus, OH – Once again, a case of the old being better than the supposed newer, and better, arena. St. John Arena, which still stands on the campus of The Ohio State University, is an incredible venue. When you’re on the floor it appears as if the seats and crowd go straight up, and when it was filled to capacity it was loud. Its replacement was The Schottenstein Center (or Value City Arena) and its antiseptic, industrial feel where the fans in the upper seats seem a mile away from the action. Nope, it has never come close to matching the atmosphere of St. John Arena. Note: Nationwide Arena, Columbus’s other downtown arena, is better too.

Shoemaker Center, Cincinnati, OH – Shoemaker Center has succumbed to the corporate naming game and is now sadly known as 5th Third Arena. It’s a place that’s near and dear to my heart because 1) It was named after my late great Uncle Myrl Shoemaker, and 2) It’s the home of the Cincinnati Bearcats, a team coached by my friend Bob Huggins from 1989-2005. I have many great memories of Shoemaker Center, but none better than the night Huggs returned to the city with his West Virginia Mountaineers and I was behind the Neers bench.

Good God.

West Virginia Coliseum, Morgantown, WV – I’ve had some amazing times in the WVU Coliseum, seeing some great games and having some incredible experiences thanks to my old friends Huggs and Billy Hahn. WVU Coliseum is unique in that, although it holds 14,000 people, seems almost like a high school gym. I mean, you walk in and it seems everyone knows you. People are friendly and extremely rabid in their love for their ‘Neers. And when that muzzle loader fires after a big win or important moment in the game? Good God man, you will jump. And I’ll never forget the night I met Hot Rod Hundley and Freddie Schaus. You can read those stories by clicking on these links: My Father, WVU and Meeting the Legends and Helping Hot Rod Hundley.

Convocation Center, Athens, OH – If you’re a high school coach in southern Ohio “The Convo” is the mecca of basketball. It’s where you want to make it to and it’s where the District and Regional Tournaments are played. My teams played there 9 times in my 13-year high school coaching career, and every single game was special. It’s the crown jewel of Harvard on the Hocking.

UD Arena, Dayton, OH – Dayton may have the most underrated facility in the country, and they have a rabid, basketball smart fan base to boot. There’s really not a bad seat in the house, and during games there’s something about those dark upper corners that are intimidating. Home of the NCAA play-in games.

Assembly Hall, Bloomington, IN – Ah, the home of the great Bobby Knight. It’s now Simon Skjodt Assembly Hall, and I spent a weekend there back in the mid-80s and even got to meet The General himself as well as Shawn Kemp. Good times and great memories indeed. The arena rocks, and it’s also the site of the 1979 National Championship game between Magic Johnson’s Michigan State Spartans and Larry Bird’s Indiana State Sycamores. Classic.

The Metrodome, Minneapolis, MN – I’ve only been to The Metrodome once, but the games were doozies. It was the 2001 Final Four and my Maryland Terrapins were there playing the Evil Empire, Duke. Arizona vs. Michigan State was the other matchup, and when Duke took the floor the fans of the three other teams booed them mercilessly. Looooved it. Maryland lost the game after losing a 17-point lead (I won’t blame the officials but damn they had their heads up Coach K’s ass the whole game), but bounced back the next year and won it all in Atlanta.

Madison Square Garden, New York City, NY – I haven’t actually watched a game there but I did take a tour of this legendary arena. Knowing that The Fight of the Century between Muhammed Ali and Joe Frazier took place there as well as the legendary Will Reed game in the 1970 NBA Finals gave me chills. Can’t leave out all the rock bands either as virtually every famous band has played there.

Cintas Center, Cincinnati, OH – LOVE the home of the Xavier Musketeers. It seats a little over 10,000 but seems much smaller. It really has an intimate feel. I was on the floor for Xavier’s upset of #1 Villanova a few years ago and the place was electric.

Rupp Arena, Lexington, KY – I’ve seen several games at Rupp, the first being when I watched the Rex Chapman’s team in the 1980s. The place was huge, holding 23,000 people. My best memory though? Attending the last show of the 1978 Peter Frampton Tour and J. Geils Band lead singer Peter Wolf pouring champagne into my mouth from the stage. Weirdly memorable, man.

Thomas & Mack Center, Las Vegas, NV – Long story here, but I became acquainted with UNLV legend Jerry Tarkanian after I met him in a bar in the aforementioned Lexington, Kentucky. It’s actually a pretty cool story that I called Meeting Tark the Shark. Tark was a cool dude, man. A few years after I met him I gave him a call when I was in Vegas with my friend Jigger, and long story short I was given a tour of the arena and locker room facilities by The Shark himself. I even got to meet Stacey “Plastic Man” Augmon, a starter on the 1990 National Championship team and future NBA player. All told Tark probably spent an hour that day with me, a guy he’d met in a hotel bar years prior. Unforgettable memory, and I’ll never forget Tark’s kindness and generosity. I never saw a game in the Shark Tank, but I’ll be damned if I didn’t sit in Tark’s chair and look around in wonderment at the arena. Thanks, Tark.

Breslin Center, Lansing, MI – Again, I’ve never seen a game on Michigan State campus but I did go to MSU to coach a couple summer camps back in the late 90s so I spent some time in the arena. Very cool, historic place that gave off some really cool vibes. I also spent a night in Head Coach Tom Izzo’s basement, which is whole other story to tell on another day. By the way, Izzo? Great guy.

Cincinnati Gardens, Cincinnati, OH – I have so many great memories of Cincinnati Gardens, which was sadly demolished in 2018. My father took us to many games there to watch the Cincinnati Royals, an NBA team that featured hoop legends Oscar Robertson and Jerry Lucas. I also watched players like Wilt Chamberlain, Pete Maravich, Jerry West and many more there. We were once at a Royals-76ers game and I really wanted Wilt Chamberlain’s autograph. He was by far my favorite player. Anyway, not knowing any better I decided to go down at halftime and tried to get it as the players walked off the court. At that time both teams exited at the same point, right at half-court, walking together and then going into opposite locker rooms. So, I’m standing there waiting for my hero when there he comes. Listen, I was probably 10-years old but Wilt looked 20-feet tall to me. He was walking right beside Jerry Lucas, and they were yelling at each other, saying words I’d never before heard in my young life. Then, right in front of me they stopped. They were nose-to-nose, just completely going at it. Other players came in and broke it up, but before Wilt left he looked down at me, rubbed my head, and shook my hand. I guess I should say he shook my forearm because his hand gripped mine practically all the way up to my elbow. Hell, even then I realized that was WAY better than an autograph. And years later, in 1992, I got to watch one of my former players Roman Diekan play in The Gardens as a member of the Xavier Musketeers. Special for sure.

Mackey Arena, West Lafayette, IN – I only visited Mackey once, but I loved it. My friend Jimmy Patsos was coaching at Siena and they played a game at Purdue. I loved the atmosphere of the arena. The floor is elevated which is always a unique feature. Siena came close to winning, too.

Millett Hall, Oxford, OH – My memories of Millet Hall are special because my cousin John Shoemaker played there from 1974-75 to 1977-78. Miami was really good back then (made the NCAA tourney) and the crowds were insane. Loved that arena.

Riverfront Coliseum, Cincinnati, OH – I attended many a rock show at this arena, and I even had tickets to the infamous Who concert on my birthday in 1979. Yep, my buddies Tom, Andy and I had tickets the night 11-people were crushed to death, and we were actually on the way to the concert. Fortunately, since it was my birthday we thought a party in Chillicothe would be more fun, and that fact might have saved our lives. And yes, I know about a million people claim to have had tickets to that show. We actually did. We went to the party, and we found out what happened when we returned to Andy’s house around 2:30 in the morning and found his wife sitting on the floor in front of the TV, crying. She thought we’d gone to the concert, and when she saw us walk in she leaped up, hugged us all, and told us the news. Chilling stuff, and I’m glad we turned back. I also saw the Elton John Yellow Brick Road Tour, the Eagle’s Hotel California Tour, Led Zeppelin, Peter Frampton, ELO, R.E.M. and many more acts there. On the sports side I watched my cousin Mick play his home games for the University of Cincinnati there and it was generally not a good experience. UC students actually had to be bussed to the games. Fun Fact: My Uncle Myrl (Mick’s father), unhappy with this setup, soon directed funds so a new on-campus arena could be built – the soon to be named Myrl H. Shoemaker Center.

Georgia Dome, Atlanta, GA – This arena holds a special place in my heart for one reason and one reason only – it’s where Gary Williams and his Maryland Terrapins won the NCAA Championship in 2002. I’ll never forget it. Sadly, the Georgia Dome has since been imploded.

Cameron Indoor Stadium, Durham, NC – Yes, I ventured into this den of iniquity several years ago just to have a look-see. I was actually offered a personal tour by a friendly Duke employee after I stopped in on the way to the Outer Banks. It’s bigger than I thought and holds 9300 idiot Duke nerds named Hunter, Chase, Bradford, Geoffrey, and well, you get the idea. Anywho, overrated.

Dean Smith Center, Chapel Hill, NC – Of course after visiting Cameron Indoor I had to make the 12-mile drive over to the The Dean Dome, and once again I simply walked in an open door and sauntered around. What can I say? People generally leave me alone for some reason. Anyway, Dean Dome? BIG. It holds 21,750. Place is cavernous, man, and sort of had that antiseptic Schottenstein Center feel to it. On a positive note it lacked that Duke stench, so there’s that.

United Center, Chicago, IL – Ah, yes. The United Center. Famed home of the Chicago Bulls and Michael Jordan. It is with a heavy heart that I tell you I have not watched a game in the United Center, although I have been in the lobby. Sigh. Ah, hell, it’s too embarrasing to type again. Just click this damn link: Regrets, I’ve Had A Few: Missing One Of The Graetest Moments In Sports History. I’m sorry. I truly am.

PPG Paints Arena, Pittsburgh, PA – I was invited to watch some NCAA tournament games there a few years ago (2012 I believe) when some coaching friends all happened to have teams playing there on the same day/night. Those friends were Bob Huggins at WVU, Dave Dickerson at Ohio State and Jimmy Patsos at Loyola-Maryland. Gonzaga was also there. I watched Ohio State beat Loyola and Gonzaga beat WVU. It was a very cool experience knowing coaches from three of the four teams though. Cool venue as well.

So those are the arenas I can think of off the top of my head, arenas I’ve either been to or had some type of involvement with. I’m sure I’ve forgotten something, but if one comes back into my addled brain I’ll let you know.

A Lesson in Leadership and Teamwork

Back in my early years of coaching I faced a problem a lot of coaches face, especially at the lower levels – the best, most athletic kid in his grade level wasn’t interested in playing sports. All I heard, over and over again, was that I needed to get this kid named Max to come out for basketball. However, even back then I had no interest in begging a kid to play. Hey, if their heart isn’t in it then it’s not going to end well for them, the team or the coach. It never does.

Anyway, one day I had Max in study hall and at one point he walked up to my desk. I told him to pull up a chair and sit down, and he proceeded to ask why I hadn’t asked him to play basketball. Basically I just informed him that if he wasn’t interested and his heart wasn’t in it then he shouldn’t play, that I wanted what was best for him. He then asked me if I could meet him after school, that he’d like to talk more about it. I said sure, we had practice at 5:00 and he could stop in at my office before we started.

When he arrived he came into the coach’s office, shut the door and sat down. He basically explained to me that he really wanted to play but he was having trouble at home. His father wasn’t in the picture and his mother was suffering from addiction problems. Bottom line he was taking care of her and didn’t feel as if he had the time to commit to basketball.

Without getting into the details, Max and I figured out a plan where he could play, get help for his mom, and still have enough time to be there for her. The problem was, he’d missed the first 2-weeks of practice and he’d have a lot of running to make up for missed time. I told him as much and he said he’d do it, that he was ready to do whatever it took.

The next night he showed up for practice and I got the team together and explained the situation. I could tell there was some resentment about him showing up late and being allowed to play, but they knew it was going to happen regardless. After the meeting I asked one kid, Matthew, to stick around for a minute before we took the floor. Matthew was a good kid, a team leader and was going to be our best player until Max showed up. I was actually concerned he wouldn’t take it well. I explained the situation, that it wasn’t simply a kid trying to get out of conditioning or that he wasn’t fully committed. I also explained Max’s problems. Matthew nodded his head, seemed to understand and went on out to practice.

We had a good practice and Max was as good as advertised. Afterwards everyone went back to the locker room as Max begin his running. I’d figured he owed 1,000-laps/stairs to make up for what he’d missed, and he had to get it all completed before our first game if he expected to play. I had a manager counting his laps, so I went down to the locker room with the idea of going back up every few minutes to check his progress.

As I walked through the locker room, I noticed Matthew sitting there quietly. He wasn’t changing clothes, just sitting there looking at the floor and his untied shoes. Then, just before I half expected him to tell me he was quitting, he bent over and began retying his shoes.

He finished, stood up, and walked back into the gym. He then proceeded to run with Max, side by side. Incredibly, as I stood there I watched every single player on the team follow Matthew’s lead and come out and join Max. I remember some walking out fully dressed to go home, seeing what was happening, then going back down, changing, and joining the rest. It was a sight to behold.

Those guys completed 250-laps that night, and by the end several parents had walked in and watched what was happening. At first they thought the team was being punished, but after I explained the situation they were behind their sons 100%. The team completed 250-laps each over the next three nights as well, and every night after they finished they got in a huge group hug.

They became a team that week.

I’ll never forget those nights and what one selfless player did to help a teammate who he knew needed basketball, a teammate that needed another family. I’ll never forget every single player following that one kid’s lead. He, and ultimately the rest, put that player and the overall good of the team above themselves.

That, my friends, is leadership and teamwork.

PS- Names were obviously changed but some of you will remember the story.

Scouting With Billy

As many of you know, my friend Billy Hahn, passed away last Spring. Billy was a legend in college basketball circles and was once known as one of the top recruiters in the country. He personally recruited 27 NBA players in his career and was largely responsible for recruiting many of the players on the University of Maryland’s 2002 National Championship team. I recently wrote about Billy in a story called Remembering Billy Hahn, which you can read by clicking on that title if you haven’t read it already.

As you might imagine I’ve been doing a lot of reminiscing about Billy and some of the experiences we had together, and believe me when I say a lot of memories came flooding back.

Occasionally I’d get a call from Billy, especially back in the 1990s, and he’d ask if I wanted to go on a recruiting trip with him. Of course most of time I’d say hell yes, and off we’d go. I mean, every trip with Billy was an adventure because he knew everybody, and I mean everybody, in college basketball and beyond. I recall him calling people like John Calipari, Roy Williams and John Chaney at the drop of a hat, and I remember he called 76er’s coach Larry Brown once to get directions to some obscure gym in Philadelphia so he could watch a high school kid practice.

Billy once told me that when recruiting players you had to find the one person who had influence over the kid. He said it might be his mother, his brother, his sister, his girlfriend, his pastor, his high school or AAU coach, but whoever it was that was the person you needed to win over. He also taught me about what to watch for, like whether a kid has bounce, as in that he never had to gather himself after jumping and landing. In other words he was looking for the kid who would just bounce right back up quickly. He also never really cared if a player scored a ton of points, he was looking for body language and the way a player treated his coach, his teammates and the referees. Also, a player’s motor was a huge key. Did he quit or was he diving for loose balls at the end of games?

One of the first times I went with Billy (I believe it was in Cleveland) he told me to be sure and wear Maryland gear because it would help us to stay out of trouble. I wasn’t sure what he meant until he explained that we’d be going to some pretty rough areas and if the people there saw we were wearing college basketball gear they’d understand we were there to help someone. I remember that one opened my eyes a little bit.

Another time we were in Philadelphia and we were walking down a street. Billy needed to get some cash so we stopped at an ATM. As Billy was getting his cash a couple guys came up behind us, real close, seemingly with bad intentions. Just as I was wondering how to deal with it Billy turned around, flashed that smile, and completely won the guys over in 30-seconds by bringing up some local playground hoops legend named Sadeye Watson that he knew. We ended up going into a local bar with them and having a couple beers. Oh, and they bought.

Amazing, but that was Billy Hahn.

On another trip to Philly Billy had given me a heads-up beforehand, telling me that we were going to a section of town that wasn’t great. We met at a hotel somewhere on the south side and the plan was to visit a kid at his high school the next day. That night during dinner (of course it was at a little bar where Billy knew the owner) he introduced me to a friend of his, a local guy, who was going to accompany us to the high school. Turns out we needed accompanied because we were heading to one of the most dangerous streets in America.

That next morning we arrived at the school where an armed guard, who was expecting us, unlocked the gate to the parking lot and let us in. It was no surprise that Billy knew the guy and asked about his daughter. Billy not only knew her name but he knew she’d been accepted into St. Joseph’s University and was planning on studying finance.

Incredible, but that was Billy.

I remember the guard unlocking a door to the school, where we were to meet this high school kid Billy was recruiting. As we entered the building and walked down the hallway the first thing I noticed when looking into the classrooms was the fact that every room had sort of a chain link cage around the teacher’s desk. I asked the guard what it was about and he explained that if trouble arose the teacher could lock themselves in and call for help. Most of the teachers I saw were walking around teaching among the students, but the fact that the protection was necessary was a little jarring to me. It seemed almost like a prison.

Still, Billy walked those hallways and streets fearlessly and seemed to know everyone. He could hang out with millionaires and street people and treated everyone the same. People of all walks of life gravitated to him. Those of you who were lucky enough to know Billy Hahn understand exactly what I’m talking about.

Yep, I can see many of you smiling and nodding your head as you read that.

I have a hundred other stories similar to these, but I’ll never forget how Billy Hahn took a high school coach from a small school in southern Ohio under his wing and showed him how things worked in the college game. And more importantly he taught me how relationships are important and being kind to people, no matter their background or standing in life, truly matters.

And you simply can’t put a price on that.

The Shortest Taxi Ride

Note: I refuse to use names, locations and dates in this story. In the best interest of all parties I won’t do it. Seriously, I can’t. I respect those involved too much and if I did some of you guys would figure it out. That said, if you message me privately I’ll spill my guts.

Many a year ago I was out on the town with a couple major college coaches and a some of their assistants, possibly somewhere on the east coast but maybe in the midwest, I ain’t tellin’. It had been decided we’d all go out for dinner and adult beverages after a game. Not always do opposing coaches and their staffs hang out after games, but it does happen occasionally as it did on this evening. We were in a big city so places would sometimes stay open beyond closing hours, especially for the coaches in question. Not for me of course, but for the famous guys.

Anyway, we ate at a nice Italian restaurant, had a drink or two, then decided to hit a few bars in the area as well. The guys I was with were pretty recognizable so folks were sending rounds over and it was starting to get a little wild. Hey, we weren’t driving so it was all good. This was before Uber so we were hailing taxis to get us around. As the night wore on some of the guys dropped out so it was just the two head coaches, an assistant and of course yours truly remaining. After a few more stops it was decided we’d better head back to our hotel, so we asked the bartender to call us a cab, which she did. We stood outside waiting, and pretty soon the cab pulled up. We all hopped in, and the following conversation took place:

“Where to fellas?”

“The Hilton.”

“Which Hilton?”

“Not sure. The one near the waterfront.”

“Are you positive? There are a couple others in town.”

‘Yep. It’s about a block from the water.”

“Oooookay, you got it.”

The guy then proceeded to drive about 30-feet, stopped, and said, “Here you go.”

Yep. We’d somehow circled back and had been in a bar right next to our hotel and didn’t even know it. The amazing thing is, the driver drove us the 30-feet before telling us.

It’s a classic story that still gets brought up to this day.

PS- And yes, the guy was tipped handsomely, not for the drive but for the balls to do what he did.

The Craziest Game

Not from that night, but pretty damn close.

Back in 1991 I was in my second year coaching varsity basketball. We had a really good team and we were playing another really good team from another league. Due to what occurred that night I’ll try and leave our opponent’s name out of the story. However, if you were there that night you’ll never forget what went down . . .

Like I said, we were a very good team that year, as we had been the year prior. We were about to play a team we’d beaten the year before, but they’d improved and really, really wanted to avenge that loss.

How badly? We had no idea.

Oblivious to what was waiting for us, we prepared for the game like any other. Game day arrived and we made the bus trip over the hills, into the next county and into our opponent’s gym.

Upon walking in though, we knew something was different. Although the reserve game was just getting started, the place was packed. In those days a full gym wasn’t that surprising though.

However, the emotionally charged atmosphere that hit us as we walked inside was an eye-opener.

As the home crowd stood and booed lustily, we looked around and there were signs everywhere. Some were of the generic variety, some decidedly not.

The gym we were in was pretty small, with maybe 15-18 rows one one side and a set of bleachers on the stage. On a related note, the crowd was decidedly 95% anti-Bearcats. We had a faction of small, but mighty and boisterous, fans in one corner of that stage.

It was then, as we were walking into the gym and towards our locker rooms, that I noticed a sign. Here’s what it read:

“WELCOME TO THE NASTY PLACE”

Uh . . . oh. Where had I heard that before? And then it hit me. After we’d beaten this team the year before, one of my quotes in the paper was this:

“I was glad to get out of there with a win. That’s a nasty place to play.”

I’ll swear to the day I die I never meant that comment as an insult to our opponent’s small gym. What I meant was that it was a tough place to win because they always had hard-nosed, well-coached teams with loud, loyal crowds. That’s what I’d meant by nasty.

Really, that’s what I meant.

At this point, however? Too late for explanations. I’d insulted their gym, their team, their school, and apparently their entire community, which incidentally was there en masse that night.

We went down to our locker room, which was at the bottom of some stairs under the bleachers. As we dressed we could hear the roar of the crowd, even during the reserve game.

The place was electric.

Eventually we took the floor, of course to loud boos and taunting from the crowd.

As the game progressed, the atmosphere only became more intense. The score was close throughout, which only ratcheted up the intensity. Objects were thrown from the crowd, usually at me, which to my recollection included pennies, candy (my managers loved that), and anything else folks could get their hands on.

At one point the game was stopped and an administrator made an announcement, something along these lines:

“Listen, no matter what the other coach said about our school, please try and stop throwing things at him.”

I swear it was something like that. Probably not the best choice of words, because they only amped the crowd up more.

And man, if you’d have heard some of the things being yelled at me from behind our bench your jaw would have hit the floor.

Anyway, as we entered the last quarter we were in trouble. We trailed a very talented team whose crowd wanted a win very badly. With around 5:00 remaining, we were down by 10-points.

But then, thanks to a timeout followed by a furious full court press, we made a run. Did I mention we had three of the best little defensive guards in the league in Todd Shoemaker, Casey McFadden, and Roman Diekan? All three were 5-10 and they would get after you defensively.

Not only that, they feared nobody. Not even hundreds of angry fans giving them Holy Hell from the bleachers. Shoot, it made my guys play harder.

Bottom line, we held our opponents scoreless the last 5:00 of the game, and eventually forced overtime. It was on.

As we readied for the overtime tip, the din of the crowd was deafening. But the real fun was about to commence.

The Bearcats got the tip, and it was then we made the decision to hold the ball.

Yep, you read that right. We decided hold the ball and go for the last shot.

Hey, we had three of the best guards, defenders and ballhandlers in the Scioto Valley Conference, we were playing in a hostile (to put it mildly) environment, so why not hold it and go for the win?

And that’s exactly what we did.

Todd, Roman and Casey dribbled and passed their way through the overtime, running a weave out front as our opponents tried desperately to regain possession of the basketball.

Wasn’t happening, man. And as you can imagine, this only amped up the tension higher with the crowd, if that were possible.

We burned the clock in that spread offense until there were about 5-seconds left, when Todd Shoemaker rifled a no-look, bullet pass from the top of the key to 6′-5″ sophomore (and future 1st Team All-Ohioan) Craig Kerns under the basket. Kerns was immediately fouled on the wide-open layup, giving him two free throws with 1-second remaining in the tied game.

It was then we called a timeout, and I told Craig to make the first shot (I had no doubt he would) and miss the second, giving the other team no time to get the rebound and call their own timeout and attempt a last second prayer of a play.

As Craig was lining up for the first shot, I saw Todd walk up from beyond the 3-point line and whisper something to him. He actually had his hands cupped over his mouth as he whispered in Craig’s ear. In retrospect I should have known something was up. Alas, in the heat of the moment I did not.

So, Craig made the first to put us up 1 and missed the second as directed. An opposing player grabbed the rebound threw up a desperation shot that missed, and we’d pulled off the big comeback win under very difficult circumstances.

One of the incredible final stats was that we held a very good team, including the last quarter and overtime, to zero points over the last 9-minutes of the game.

As I started to go over to shake hands with the opposing coach, I caught something out of the corner of my eye. As I turned to look, I saw Todd and Craig running towards the opposite wall. Then I saw them rip a particularly offensive sign off the wall.

Uh-oh. So that’s what they’d been talking about.

I can’t say it was the best decision they’d ever made, but they’d also been suffering through some pretty intense verbal abuse the entire game. Did I condone it? No. Did I understand it? Yes I did.

At that point, well, all hell broke loose.

People poured onto the floor and fights seemed to be breaking out everywhere.

My assistant coaches, Daron Myers and Pete Hollon among them, were fending off people trying to get at me, and at one point formed a circle around me as we attempted to get our team to the locker room.

I remember that Craig’s father Brad, our film guy, forgo the ladder that led to his little crow’s nest where he’d been filming and basically jumped down to join the fray.

Finally, we made it downstairs to the locker room. Once there, we could hear people at the top of the steps yelling nasty things down to us. A group of our parents actually stood guard at the top of the stairs. I told my players to sit tight, that we’d have to wait this out until things calmed down. Soon after that, a local policeman came to tell us the same thing, that they were calling in some more enforcement to clear the gym.

My players didn’t even change into their street clothes. They just sat there waiting to be told what to do next.

Over an hour later the gym was eventually cleared, but a lot of people were still waiting for us in the parking lot. Soon, a plan was hatched. Our bus left the lot it was parked in and was brought around to the other side of the school. With a large group of our fans forming a tunnel, we snuck out through a side door and boarded our bus.

What happened next seems surreal even today. After we were all seated, the Sheriff of the county we were playing in got on the bus, stood at the front, and said this:

“You fellas better keep  your heads down until you get out of _______ County.”

Yep. That actually happened. I have witnesses.

On a related note, do you know how you can tell you have loyal assistant coaches? When, after hearing what the local sheriff just said, you have this discussion with one of them:

Coach Myers: “Coach, switch places with me.”

Me: “Why?“

Coach Myers: “You’d better get away from the window. They’ll be aiming for you.”

That’s loyalty, folks.

As we pulled out we were escorted, front and back, by several cars and trucks from Paint Valley. Behind our fans, in the back, followed a lot of cars that were not from Ross County. When we crossed into Ross County, those cars turned around and went back from whence they came.

You may not be surprised to learn that I got several phone calls the next day, most from angry fans threatening to beat my ass but with a few death threats thrown in for fun as well.

Good times, huh?

Our twice yearly regular season games with that opponent were cancelled for the foreseeable future, although the very next year we happened to draw them in the sectional tournament. Again, they couldn’t beat us.

Thank God it was on a neutral court.

Update: I found the article and figured I may as well include it. Most people know where the game was played anyway. Here ya go.

Note: Folks from the school and opponent in question will most certainly have a different perspective regarding what happened that night, and they are certainly welcome to chime in if they feel the need.

Getting Over the Tough Losses

So I’ve been hearing the talking heads of the sports world, many of whom have no idea what it’s like to ever play a sport, discussing the collapse of the Baltimore Ravens a couple weeks ago.

Anyway, the discussion regarding blowing a game always seems to come down to this – will the losing team recover? How long will it take for them to get past this? It seems that most folks are saying things like, “Oh, it will sting for awhile but they’ll eventually get over it.”

Let me say this. I’ve coached for well over 30-years and have suffered some tough losses.

I had a team that was ranked #2 in Ohio and was undefeated through our first 15-games. We lost one of our best players to ineligibility and ended up losing our opening tournament game.

Another game we were undefeated and lost in triple overtime to a team we should have beaten. The team took several three 3-pointers in the last few seconds of the 4th quarter, getting their own rebound and kicking it back out for another chance 2-3 times. Problem is we were up 3 at the time and we should’ve fouled. For whatever reason I didn’t tell my team to do that. I think I was probably trusting my defense to make a stop, but in retrospect it was a bad decision. We ended up losing our first game of the year that night.

A few years ago my team played a district tournament game against a team that was 24-0 and we were up 5-points with about a minute left. In retrospect we had fouls to give and I probably should have used them, gradually working the clock down until our opponent had to take a quick shot with little time remaining. Instead I chose not to because #1) I didn’t want to stop the clock, #2) I feared we’d get an intentional foul call, and #3) I really believed in our defense. What happened was a kid threw in a 25-foot shot at the buzzer and we lost. So yeah, that one hurt.

In addition, I’ve had players miss free throws that would’ve won huge games for us, and I’ve had players turn the ball over in crucial situations that led directly to losses.

So, back to the original question. When do you get over tough losses and failures in really, really big games?

The answer is simple. You don’t.

Ever.

Sure, you learn to deal with it and you don’t dwell on it every day, but it never really leaves you. Not if you’re a real competitor.

For instance, that tournament game we lost back in 1993, nearly 30-years ago? How often do I think about it? Oh, not as much as I used to. Maybe once a week.

And the tournament game where we lost at the end? I still think of it 2-3 times a week if not more.

I’m serious. Second guessing yourself is a cruel game, man.

Because like I said, you never really get over it.

Ever.

Here Are 14 Rules For Young Basketball Players To Follow

The first year I ever coached basketball was way back in 1983-84, a time when Ronald Reagan was president, Jump by Van Halen topped the charts, and Beverly Hills Cop was the most popular movie in the U.S. of A. Bottom line? It was a long time ago. That first year I coached 8th grade at Paint Valley, then went to Greenfield McClain and coached 7th, and then coached 8th grade and scouted for the varsity until 1988. In ’88 I moved back to Paint Valley where I coached a year of junior varsity before moving up to the varsity the following year. I resigned from that job in 1996, and in the ensuing 16-years I was a high school Athletic Director, college Athletic Director, and an AAU coach. In 2012 I was asked to return as Head Coach at Paint Valley, where I coached for another 6-years. Spread over those 34-years I also worked for several college basketball programs at various levels and served as the National Coach for Montserrat, an island in the British West Indies. So, I’ve been around a lot of basketball and learned from a lot of great coaches.

During the last few years I’ve trained players as well, kids ranging in age from 4th grade to college. What follows is some simple advice I give to those I train, as I try and not only coach fundamentals but also add some general life advice too. Basically these are rules I think every young player should live by. Let us begin . .

1. OUTWORK EVERYONE ALL THE TIME

Dive for loose balls, be the first in line for drills, always run on and off the floor (never walk), always be the hardest worker in the gym.

2. LEAD BY EXAMPLE

Set an example for others to follow. Others may try and bring you down to their level. They might laugh at you for working so hard. Ignore them.

3. BE THE FIRST TO ARRIVE AND THE LAST TO LEAVE

I realize this isn’t always possible, but try anyway. Let people see you putting up extra shots as they’re leaving or see you shooting when they arrive. This will catch on with your teammates the more successful you become.

4. NEVER TAKE PRACTICE FOR GRANTED

Every practice is important. Never take time off. Don’t miss practices!

5. SET YOUR GOALS HIGH AND STRIVE TO IMPROVE EVERY DAY

Always be working towards a goal. It might be a certain move or shot. Conquer that one and move to the next. Always be working on ways to get better.

6. LEARN FROM YOUR MISTAKES

Everyone fails, but what defines you is how you respond to failure. You get up and learn from your mistake. That’s how great players are made.

7. NEVER QUIT

Don’t stop fighting, no matter how far you’re behind or how much the odds are against you. Never, ever quit.

8. RESPECT YOUR TEAMMATES

Lift them up when they’re down. Correct them when they make mistakes but always follow that with a pat on the back. Let them know you believe in them.

9. RESPECT YOUR COACHES

There will be times when you disagree with your coaches, but always treat them with respect. Look them in the eye when they’re talking to you.

10. RESPECT THE OFFICIALS

This will will pay off for you in the long run. You’ll earn their respect in return.

11. ALWAYS REMEMBER THAT YOU ARE WHO YOUR FRIENDS ARE

Always surround yourself with good people.

12. ALWAYS BE ON THE ATTACK

This goes for offense as well as defense. Be the aggressor.

13. ALWAYS BE RISING

In sports as well as life, you’re either on your way up or your way down. Always be rising.

14. HAVE FUN

The more hard work and sacrifice you put into basketball the more important it will be to you and the more successful you’ll become, and success = fun!

Of course, a lot of these apply to life as well, so apply them accordingly.

PS- I’m sure the minute I post this I’ll think of something else, but for now that’s all I’ve got. Basketball is a great game. Enjoy every minute and good luck!

Memories of Summer Camps

It’ll be June before you know it, and that always meant a month chock full of basketball. We had Monday and Wednesday night league games, shootouts, our PV Youth Camp, and of course our annual pilgrimage to WVU Team Camp, the Gary Williams Team Camp before that, or even the Bob Huggins Camps at UC and the Ohio U Camps under Billy Hahn back in the late 80s and early 90s. All were always great times.

As you might expect, stories abound from those days . . .

One year we arrived in Morgantown on Friday, got registered at camp, and I got all the guys checked into their hotel rooms. About an hour later my hotel phone rings, and I pick up.

“Hello?”

“Coach, this is T-Bag Medley. I have a question.”

Yes, he gave me his full name.

Because you know, it could have possibly been T-Bag McGinnis or T-Bag Mertz or any other number of my friends named “T-Bag” that happen to refer to me as “coach.” You can’t make this stuff up, kids.

Anyway, I told the guys and for the rest of the weekend and probably forevermore “T-Bag” would be known by his full name of “T-Bag Medley.”

Good Lord.

One time at WVU I heard some of my players being too loud in the hotel lobby. I went out there (pretty upset with them since their were other people in the lobby) and found a couple of my guys in the little room with the snack machines and stuff. They were talking loudly so I ripped into them pretty good, and as I did I noticed a player named Boom slowly disappearing behind one of the machines until he was completely behind it.

Me: “Boom! Why are you hiding behind the machine?”

Boom, in a small, trembling voice: “Because I’m scared.”

Keep in mind this was from a senior and 3-year varsity player. All I could do was laugh and walk away.

Some of my players hadn’t spent a lot of times away from home or in hotels, as was evident one day when one of them took me aside and whispered, “Coach, while we were gone today somebody came in and cleaned up our room. They made our bed and everything. It was awesome!”

The kid was tickled to death, like he’d hit the lottery or something. Couldn’t have been happier.

McCloy vs. 911 Wings.

Draise vs. 911 Wings.

And I’ll never forget a yearly tradition at Hugg’s camp at WVU – the yearly Eating of the 911 Wings. You see, there was a place called Kegler’s that had the hottest chicken wings on the planet. They were so hot they were called 911 Wings. Although we didn’t force players to try one we always told them it was a PV basketball tradition, a Rite of Passage if you will. Almost all the players tried at least one. Those wings were absolutely brutal. To watch them take a bite, then nod their head like it wasn’t that bad, only to see the heat kick in and tears come to their eyes, well it was memorable to put it mildly.

I like to think of it as the ultimate team-building exercise.

Note: 2017 grad Jay Riley could order a plate of those damn things and not bat an eye. Kid had an iron stomach. Or maybe no taste buds.

Once while we were out eating at a restaurant I had a player order extra futons for his salad. The waitress just looked at him blankly and asked, “You mean croutons?” as the table erupted in laughter.

I used to take my teams out to the University of Maryland for the Gary Williams Basketball Camp. It’s a long story but I used to be the Commissioner of the camps there for Gary from 1989 to 2002.

The kids who attended Maryland Camp came from the Washington DC area as well as Baltimore, Philly, New York City and schools all along the east coast. To say my Southern Ohio boys were out of their element was a bit of an understatement. Still, my guys hung out with the city boys, stayed in the dorms with them, and more than held their own on the basketball court. To me it was a win-win all-around. You know, expanding cultural horizons and all that. Not to mention it made my guys better playing against such good competition.

Which brings me to a story that Gary Williams, legendary former coach at Maryland, still tells to this day. Remember that it was 1992, and “trash talking” was in its early stages. Understand that trash talking hardly ever led to violence on the court, it was just a part of the game for players from the playgrounds of the inner-cities. My team, however, was not used to it. It hadn’t made its way to our neck of the woods yet.

With this in mind, my Ohio boys had been in a particularly intense contest with a team from Philly, which we happened to have won. Afterwards, in a corridor outside the Cole Field House floor, words were exchanged between an opposing player and one of my guys. After the other player challenged my player with some unkind words, a punch was thrown.

Somebody got throttled, and he wasn’t from Ross County.

Gary Williams, the aforementioned Maryland coach, happened to be in the corridor and jumped between my player and the other guy who was, well, on the hallway floor. At that point, as Gary will tell you, the following conversation took place:

Coach Williams: “What are you doing, man? Why did you punch him?”

My guy: “Coach, where I come from we only talk like that for a minute. Then we start to hit.”

Gary thought that was the greatest thing he’d ever heard, and he could hardly wait to tell me about it.

Another story at Maryland involved a certain player of mine whose name I’ll leave out to protect the not-so-innocent. This guy liked the ladies, and it just so happened a girls rugby camp was going on the same week as our basketball camp. During our lunch break I was in a car, and as we drove I noticed him flirting with a young lady.

Sorry, but this was too good to pass up. As we passed I stopped the car, rolled down the window, and said this:

“Hey man, we should be getting those STD test results back any time now. I’ll let you know if you’re clean.”

I’m telling you, the look on his face was priceless. Hers too.

Then we drove away.

My last story from Maryland didn’t involve my players, but instead involved me. You have to remember that Cole Field House was a legendary basketball arena. All the ACC greats played there, guys like Len Bias, Michael Jordan, Tim Duncan, Grant Hill, Kenny Anderson, Billy Cunningham, Christian Laettner, Ralph Sampson, James Worthy, Joe Smith and David Thompson. In 1966 the famous National Championship game between Texas Western and Kentucky took place in Cole. Texas Western had an all-black starting line-up and Kentucky was all-white. Led by the legendary coach Don Haskins, Texas Western beat the Adolph Rupp coached Kentucky 72-65. Bottom line, it was a storied, historic arena. Knowing that makes the following story more relevant . . .

It was the last day of camp, the parents had arrived to pick up their kids, and I was announcing the championship game. The contest was nearing its conclusion when I said the following:

“After the game all parents and visitors need to go to the tunnel end of the gym so they can watch the awards ceremony.”

Believe me, I said this with all sincerity and honesty. Never gave it a second thought. But then, all of a sudden, future Hall of Fame coach Gary Williams is looming over me screaming:

“Does this look like a GYM to you, Shoe? Michael Jordan did his first cradle dunk here! Lenny Bias played here! An all black Texas Western team beat an all white Kentucky team on this court in 1966! This is COLE FIELD HOUSE, MAN!”

I’m paraphrasing but that was the gist of it. At this point I was laughing so hard I couldn’t breathe, which only made Gary angrier. I mean, he was serious but it was so funny at the time I couldn’t help myself. In the meantime any coach within 10-feet was slowly backing away as to not get caught in the line of fire. As far as Coach Williams was concerned I’d insulted the sacred grounds of Cole Field House by referring to it as a “gym.”

Believe me, to Gary Williams that was sacrilegious, man. 

Being the good guy that Gary was we laughed about it together later, but at the time I thought I was gonna get coldcocked by one of college’s all-time greatest coaches. Whew.

Believe me, there are more stories that will have to wait and be told another day. But bottom line, these few stories are what’s great about coaching. Not all the great memories are from time spent during a game. They’re from practices, camps, on the bus, and when we were together as a team far away from game night, developing relationships that will last forever.

Ultimately, it’s all about relationships.

Slapping Rat

The other day I remembered a pretty funny (sort of, it depends on your outlook) story that occurred years ago during my first stint as head coach of the Paint Valley Bearcats. It happened on the way home after a particularly tough loss. As my current and former players will tell you, after a loss I like the bus to be quiet. You know, nobody should be all happy and talkative after a loss, right? Just sit there and think about where we went wrong and try and figure out how to get it fixed.

On this particular night I had a manager that apparently didn’t get the memo because he wouldn’t shut up. I shall call this manager Rat, and although his real nickname was something else entirely.

I change the name because I’m not sure if he could still sue me. You’ll know why in a minute, so settle down. All three of my managers were 6th graders by the way, but back to the story. It’ll get funny in a minute. Maybe. Perhaps. Hell, you might just be apalled.

So anyway, Rat wouldn’t shut up. The bus is completely dark and I can’t see anything, but I can hear Rat yapping away about 6 or 7 rows behind me. I turn and sort of whisper/yell:

“Rat! Be quiet!”

Dead silence for about 5-minutes, but then he starts in again . . .

“Rat! Be . . . QUIET!”

Silence for about 10-minutes. Then I hear him again, this time with some giggling mixed in.

Uh-oh.

I then decide it’s time to pay Rat a personal visit. An intervention if you will. I work my way back down the bus aisle until I get to Rat. I know when I get to him because he still babbling away about something. At that point I attempted to give him a little backhanded slap to the chest to get his attention. I know that sounds sort of, uh, inappropriate, but I didn’t intend to hit him hard. Seriously, just a little tap was all I intended.

The problem is that it was dark, Rat was leaning forward, much closer than where I thought he’d be, and his face was where his chest was supposed to be. End result? I backhanded Rat smack-dab in the face. Just throttled the kid right on the nose. Hard. I immediately told him I was sorry, that I didn’t mean to belt him like that, and then I sort of scurried back to my seat.

At that point my mind immediately started racing. Did anyone know what just happened? Did I leave a mark on Rat? Would Rat rat me out? Was this my last bus ride as a coach? Then I leaned over to my assistant and the following conversation commenced:

Me: “I just slapped Rat.”

Assistant, half asleep: “Cool. Wait. What?”

Me: “I just slapped Rat. Right in the face.”

Assistant: “You slapped Rat?”

Me: “I slapped Rat.”

Assistant: “Hard?”

Me: “Walloped him. He might be bleeding from the mouth, nose or both. Dead serious.”

Assistant: “On purpose?”

Me: “Well, no, but I’m not sure that will hold up in a court of law.”

Assistant: “Well, he’s awfully quiet back there now. Maybe he’s fine. Maybe he’s cool with it. I’m sure he knows it was an accident.”

By that point the bus was REALLY quiet, as you might imagine.

And then it began.

It started as a low moan and sort of turned into a plaintive wail. Rat was becoming unglued. Unhinged. Rat was bawling, blubbering, and breaking down like he’d been punched by Mike Tyson in his prime. Which is actually sort of what had just happened.

Good God.

I was done. How to explain this? Just no way to do it and make it sound O.K. Why? Because anyway you spin it I’d just slapped a 6th grader in the face. With that in mind I decided to just go back and apologize to Rat again, explain what happened to his parents if they asked, and hope for the best. 

“Rat, I’m sorry man. I meant to just tap you on the chest and your face got in the way. Seriously.”

From Rat, dead silence. And I was hoping that wasn’t literally.

I never knew what happened when Rat went home that night. Did he keep mum to save me? Did he tell Mom and Pops and they were just cool enough to uderstand it was probably an accident and not say anything? Maybe Rat told them and they didn’t believe him? Who knows? In retrospect I should have paid them a visit and explained, but at the time it didn’t seem prudent. Bottom line I never heard a word about it from anyone again.

Another lesson learned though. Never attempt to slap a kid in the dark without taking a flashlight with you.

You know I’m kidding, right?

Right?

PS: That’s not an actual photo of Rat’s nose after the incident. I left no marks or bruises. Seriously. Rat was fine. Well, physically anyway. Mentally he was probably scarred for life.

PPS: Before I get a comment from some idiot saying “Well, if that was MY kid blah-blah-blah . . .” just know that I’d never hit a kid intentionally. You know, unless they really deserved it.

Not Rat.

PPPS: I’m KIDDING. Chill.

UPDATE: I ran into Rat the other day and reminded him of this little incident. He laughed and said he had no memory of it, thus proving that 1) He’s cool and still covering my ass, or 2) he was concussed that fateful evening.

Trusting Robbie

Years ago I had a player on my team named Robbie. Robbie came from a very poor family, and when I say poor I mean really, really poor. I went to visit him at his house once when he was sick and his room literally had no floor. It was just packed down dirt. I’m being dead serious here. His family of five lived in a tiny house and he shared this room with a younger brother and sister.

I tell you this only to illustrate what kind of background from which Robbie came, and for no other reason. Trust me when I say it’s pertinent to this story.

The season was starting and it was time to buy team shoes. I always required my players from 7th grade and up to wear identical shoes. I’ve always felt that everybody being uniform in their appearance helped foster team unity and develop a cohesiveness within our program. You know, one guy wearing a pair of $260.00 Nikes and another wearing a pair of $55.00 Asics was just a bad deal all-around. Plus, dang it, it looks better. To this day it bothers me to see teams wearing a variety of different brands and colors of shoes.

That particular year the shoes we were buying cost $78.00. You’ll understand why I remember the exact price shortly. Anyway, I told the team about the shoes and when the shoe guy would be coming in for the fittings. As I did every year, I explained to the kids that if anyone was having trouble paying to let me know and we’d work something out.

The next day it came as no surprise when Robbie showed up at the door to the teacher’s lounge looking for me. He told me that he didn’t have the money but if I bought the shoes he’d promise to pay me back. Without hesitation I said sure, that he could pay me back in installments, whatever was easiest. I knew Robbie. He was a good kid. I wasn’t worried about it.

When I walked back into the lounge, one of the teachers (I’ll call her Mrs. Frazier) asked what Robbie had wanted. I explained, and she was incredulous:

“Well, there’s $78.00 you’ll never get back.”

Listen, I knew this particular teacher was cynical about kids, whined about teaching on a daily basis, and hated her job. But this really ticked me off. I basically told her she was wrong and she shouldn’t pass judgment on kids so quickly. She just shook her head and laughed at my naivety.

After that day, about once every couple weeks, I’d get the same question from Mrs. Frazier:

“Get your money back yet? Nope? Didn’t think so.” 

This was always followed by a smirk and a dismissive laugh. She couldn’t believe what a dummy I’d been.

Trust me, this got old, especially since it was a couple months after basketball season and I still hadn’t seen any money from Robbie. Then one day there was a knock at the door of  the teacher’s lounge, and again it was Robbie. He was standing there with a shoebox, which he handed to me.

“It’s all there, coach.”

I didn’t doubt it for a second.

After giving Robbie a hug I carried the box back into the lounge and opened it. The inside was full of every denomination possible under a $20.00 bill, including lots of pennies and nickels. It was obvious this money had been saved with pocket change, over time.

You know what I did? I counted out every penny, nickel, dime, quarter, one dollar bill and five dollar bill, and I counted it out loudly, right in front of you-know-who.

As expected, it came to $78.00, right on the dot.

But that wasn’t all that was in the box. At the bottom there was an envelope addressed to me. I opened it up and inside was a little card that read simply:

Coach Shoe,

Thanks for believing in me.

Robbie

I put the top back on the box, got up, and walked out of the lounge. And as I left, Mrs. Frazier never said a word.

That night I went to Robbie’s house and gave the money back. His family needed it way more than I did, and more importantly he’d learned a valuable lesson in responsibility, honesty and integrity.

Me? I’d learned another valuable lesson about trust and faith.

A lesson that had apparently gone right over Mrs. Frazier’s head.

Shoe: Untied Is 9-Years Old!

Well, that went by quickly. Mercy, 2012 seems like it was yesterday and now it’s 9-years in the past. Sad but not really.

It was on April 12th, 2012 that I started this website. It’s been quite a therapeutic way for me to blow off steam, vent, and otherwise put my thoughts out there for people to read. Surprisingly, a lot of folks enjoy reading this junk. Later I’ll show you some website stats from the past 9-years. They’re pretty incredible. Let’s just say I’m kind of a big deal in Belgium.

But on to this website and how it’s grown. Like I said, The stats are rather interesting . . .

I’ve put up 7,045 posts (that’s slightly over two a day) which have been seen by a LOT of people, more than I could have ever imagined. Shoe: Untied has had visitors from 111 countries, with the most views being from these:

1. United States – Ya think? I would be really disappointed if the US of A was #7 or something.
2. Australia – The Aussies get me, man.
3. Canada – America’s Hat digs my insight and sense of humor, eh?
4. United Kingdom – My site’s biggest ally.
5.  Philippines – I know. Makes no sense to me either. I read where they’re really into basketball so maybe that’s it.
6. New Zealand – Close to Australia so I sort of get it.
7. Germany – I got a nasty message from a German dude after my blog about clowns, so maybe most of the hits are from him checking on me.
8. India – Can you imagine folks in India sitting there laughing uproariously over my Marauding Cow Invades Hospital Waiting Room, Wreaks Havoc post? Me either.
9. South Africa – No idea, kids.
10. France – The Frenchies love me and Jerry Lewis. Old people will get that.

I’d also like to add that Belgium is at #11 and Malaysia is ranked 13th. Malaysia? Weird.

Also, Fun Fact: I’ve had one view in 9-years from North Korea. I checked, and with the strict censorship policies there apparently only high level government authorities have internet access. Interesting.

Here are my Top 25 All-Time Most Popular Posts According to number of pageviews:

1. My Side of the Story. This was something I wrote after my coaching contract was non-renewed in the Spring of 2018. Incredibly it was read by nearly a quarter of a million people at last count.
2. Losing Tim. A story I wrote about a friend who died way too soon.
3. How Peter Cetera Once Ruined a Relationship. Mine. A tale from my bygone days of the 70s, an era my father used to refer to as his son’s “hazy period.”
4. Trusting Robbie. A simple story about trust and believing in someone.
5. Remembering Andy. Once again, a tribute to a friend who passed long before he should have.
6. A Right Cross, With Love. This one is about my mother, the greatest human I’ve ever known.
7. Regarding Beach Midgets. I have no clue as to why folks like this story so much, but damned if they don’t. It’s just a short anecdote about an incident I experienced on the beach many years ago.
8. Basketball, An Island, and a Volcano: My Journey to the Caribbean. The story of my first trip to the beautiful Emerald Isle of the Caribbean, Montserrat.
9. Sara’s Last Wish. A tribute to one of my former students and athletic director aides. She was one of a kind.
10. The Festival of Leaves Parade and the Legend of the Renegade Float. You’ll have to read this one to believe it.
11. Requiem for a Tradition: The Demise of High School Sports. This one was actually picked up by some major US websites and posted, hence the big numbers.
12. Cool Beans! Words and Phrases That Need to Make a Comeback. Big word guy here, and I’ve written several stories about them. However, this one has been read the most.
13. 1991-1992: The Craziest and Greatest Year in SVC Basketball History. The title explains it all.
14. Jigger. A story about one of the most influential people in my life.
15. Jigger’s Tree. In front of Paint Valley High School there stands a tree . . .
16. Running Routes With Greg. The Greg in the story is Greg Cook, former quarterback for the Cincinnati Bengals.
17. The Craziest Game. Another one that is hard believe, but it happened. Trust me.
18. The People of Facebook. This one touched a nerve with many people. And yes, I was talking about you.
19. 1996: Montserrat vs. The World. The story of the time my team from Montserrat took Boston’s Bob Cousy Tournament by storm, shocking the northeast and beyond in the process.
20. Sis. About my beautiful sister Karen. I still think of her every day.
21. A Man Called Pop. Another tribute to an amazing man.
22. For What It’s Worth, Some Tips For New Teachers. Just my take, so chillax.
23. And Just Like That, It’s All Over. I’m Retiring. My retirement came as a surprise. Thsi explains why, and also how I felt at the time.
24. Harold, Max & Me. Another tale from my misspent youth.
25. Music’s Eternal Questions Answered! Sort Of. I just reread this and I have to admit it contains some funny.

A lot of people seem to enjoy it when I write about my experiences as a teacher or my dog Sparky, so if you want to read those stories just type in Tales from the Classroom or Sparky in the search box up top and all those stories will pop right up for ya. Enjoy.

So that’s it. The last 9-years really flew by, and I’d like to give a big thank you to those of you who are regular visitors to Shoe: Untied.

I hope you stick around.

My Father, WVU and Meeting the Legends

Back in 2009 I attended the West Virginia – Louisville game at WVU Coliseum. It was a pretty special night because it was the last game of the season, College GameDay was there, both teams were good, and the 1958-59 Mountaineer team was being honored at halftime. That legendary team, of course, was led by Jerry West and coached by Fred Schaus. As everyone knows Jerry West went on to become of the best players in NBA history. As for Fred Schaus, he only achieved the following . . .

Coach Fred Schaus and Jerry West.

After a 146-37 won-loss record at WVU, he left to coach both Jerry West and Hot Rod Hundley (who I’ve written about before) in the NBA with the Los Angeles Lakers. After leading the Lakers to 7-consecutive NBA playoffs, Schaus left coaching to become the Lakers’ General Manager. He put together the team that in 1972 won an NBA-record 33-straight games and captured an NBA Championship. He then returned to college coaching at Purdue and led the Boilermakers to a 104-60 record. His 1974 team advanced to the NIT finals. That feat got him the distinction of being the nation’s only coach to take teams to the finals of the NCAA, NIT and NBA.

So yeah, Fred Schaus was a pretty big deal. Anyway, a couple days before I headed out to Morgantown I was telling my father about the game. You can imagine my shock when he casually mentioned he and Fred Schaus were old friends.

Wait. What? I’d been involved in basketball, coached at various levels, and Dad had never mentioned he was an old buddy of a bonafide basketball legend?

Sure, he told me. They’d served in the Navy together and were close friends. Seems they met at the ship’s mail boxes because Schaus and Shoemaker were so close in spelling and their letters from home were in the same slot.

Again. Dad, you just decided to tell me this?

Anyway, I get out to Morgantown, check-in to my hotel, and head to the early morning walk-through. I remember walking through the parking lot and passing the GameDay bus where I saw Jay Bilas standing there and taking one last look in the mirror to check his hair (back when he had more hair). I said, “Hey man, you need to take the plunge and join me” as I pointed to my shaved head. He just laughed and said, “Soon man. Soon!” I just laughed and walked into the coliseum.

Later that day game time is approaching so I head back to the coliseum. Coach Huggins has a hospitality room for family and friends that I go to sometimes, so I stopped in there at some point. I’d just grabbed a beer and a sandwich when I looked up and there he was – Jerry West. Now, I’ve been lucky enough to have met a lot of famous people in my lifetime but Jerry West was on a whole other level. This was my childhood hero. I walked up with the intention of introducing myself, and . . . I froze. What can I say? I was overcome with emotion, man. This was Jerry West. The NBA logo. Mr. Clutch. Zeke from Cabin Creek. My freakin’ hero.

Yeah. That logo.

Finally I muttered something about what he’d meant to me, how I’d idolized him, read his book, blah-blah-blah until he finally patted me on the shoulder, smiled and dismissed me for the groveling fanboy that I was.

But let’s get to the point of the story. As the first half was winding to a close I went down in the tunnel where the locker rooms are, basically because I wanted to see the guys from that 1958-59 team. They were all there waiting to be introduced, including legends Jerry West, Willie Akers and Head Coach Fred Schaus. Coach Schaus was in a wheelchair and clearly not well. He was at the end of the line and was the last to be introduced to the crowd, right after Jerry West. I walked up to him and we had this quick conversation:

“Coach, my name is Dave Shoemaker. You served in the Navy with my father. He was . . .”

“Ralph? Hell yes! Great guy. You look just like him. Tell him I said hello.”

I was shocked. According to Dad he hadn’t seen Fred Schaus since 1945. That was 64-years from the year 2009. Pretty amazing really.

Believe me, when I told Dad later that Fred Schaus remembered him he just beamed. It was a special moment. However, and even bigger moment was to come.

The other players from that 1958-59 were being introduced one by one as I was having that conversation, and as I heard the announcer reading Coach Schaus’s accomplishments and the two guys behind his wheelchair (his sons maybe?) began pushing him out from the tunnel, towards the famous Mountaineer carpet and onto the coliseum floor. Then, something pretty cool happened. I watched him hold up his hand, stop them, and proceed to stand up. He stood proudly, head held high, and walked onto to court as the crowd went wild. The guys with him protested, but only for a second. He wanted to walk onto that damn floor, and by West By God Virginia he did.

I’ll never forget it. Here’s the video:

Wait for Coach Schaus at the end of the video.

Fred Schaus died about 3-years later, but I’ll never forget that night. Although he was obviously not well he displayed a grace and dignity that was astounding. And the fact that he remembered my father from 64-years prior was icing on the cake.

Unforgettable memory.

Rethinking Vitale

I never really liked Dick Vitale. His announcing style was always over the top, a little too cartoonish for me, and he always seemed to favor Duke Basketball. I even wrote about my feelings on my website a few years ago. I’ve just never been a fan.

Until yesterday.

It all started when I received an alert on my cell phone that I’d gained a new Twitter follower – Dick Vitale. I did some checking and yep, it was the real Dick Vitale. It seemed odd and I thought it was cool, but just as I was about to move on with my day I got a private message on LinkedIn from a name I didn’t recognize. She claimed she represented Dick Vitale and asked for my contact information. She said Dick wanted to reach out to me.

I did some research on her name and it turns out she actually had contacts with Vitale. Now I was really intrigued, but I still thought maybe I’d get a call from someone else representing a Dick Vitale charity or something. With trepidation I gave my information.

Very soon after that I get a text from a number I didn’t recognize. The person claimed to be Dick Vitale and asked that I call them, that they wanted to talk to me personally. Still not 100% sure I was being scammed (my friends in college coaching and beyond aren’t above such shenanigans), I ran a reverse search on the phone number.

Bradenton, Florida. Richard Vitale.

At this point my mind was really racing. Why in the world would Dick Vitale want to talk to me? Was he doing a piece on Huggs or Gary Williams and simply interviewing old friends? Had he stumbled across that article I wrote years ago? As a precaution I went back and searched for what I wrote on my site, found it, and reread it.

Not good.

Man, was it harsh. Unflattering would be putting it mildly. I’d mentioned a few personal encounters with him, one being back in the 1990s when my young son Kip and I ran into him and Brent Musburger a couple hours before a UC game outside the Bearcat’s locker room. My memories of that encounter were of Musburger stopping and being extremely friendly and of Vitale sort of walking on and ignoring us.

I’d also mentioned a couple other times I’d been around him, including a late night encounter after a Basketball Clinic at the University of Kentucky all the way back in the mid-80s. I’d been at the same table with Vitale, Jerry Tarkanian and Jim Valvano and for whatever reasons he hadn’t made a good impression on me.

Still, what were the odds? And why would a Hall of Fame broadcaster care what little ol’ me wrote about him back in 2014? This couldn’t be the reason he wanted to talk to me, right? Right? Please tell me I’m right.

Wrong.

I made the call and was quickly greeted with the unmistakeable voice of Dick Vitale. It seems a friend of his had come across my site, read the old article and forwarded it to him.

I won’t go into all the details of our private conversation, but amazingly he was calling to apologize. He assured me that he was 180 degrees from what I’d assumed him to be. He was particulary concerned about his treatment of my son that day long ago and wanted to express his regret to me personally. He wasn’t angry, he wasn’t vengeful, he was classy and genuinely remorseful even though he had no recollection of the encounters I’d written about. He even told me his wife had asked him why bother with someone you don’t know who’d written something 6-years ago?

His answer was that it bothered him to think someone thought that poorly of him, and he wanted to set the record straight.

Of course I felt badly because I’d clearly crossed a line. Like he told me, it’s my right to dislike his style and his personality, but his character is another story. And believe me, he stated this in the kindest way possible.

And you know what? He’s absolutely right.

Like his wife told him, he didn’t have to call me. He could have shrugged it off and ignored me, but he wanted to show this one soul in Southern Ohio he was wrong.

I told him I was glad he called and that I admired his old school approach in dealing with this. A mere text or email wasn’t enough, he wanted to talk to me personally. I told him of my working camps at Maryland, the Terp-Blue Devil rivalry, and how that all played into my impression. We talked about Bob Huggins, Billy Hahn, Gary Williams and a few other college coaches that were mutual acquaintances. Turns out Dick Vitale is just like me and a ton of other coaches I know.

Turns out he’s also a genuinely nice guy.

You know, I’d always assumed Dick Vitale was a character created only for the cameras, that privately he was a different person, someone colder and not nearly as pleasant and compassionate as he portrayed. I was wong. Yesterday there were no cameras, no reporters, it was just he and I. He couldn’t have been more gracious, engaging or respectful. Again, he didn’t have to call me.

But I’m glad he did.

Note: During our conversation he mentioned the yearly Dick Vitale Gala that is held to raise money through the V Foundation for Pediatric Cancer Research. They’ve raised $30-million dollars and expect to raise another $7-million at this year’s Virtual Gala. You can donate and learn more about The Vitale Gala at these links:

Dick Vitale Gala

Vitale Has 7 Million Reasons To Feel “Awesome, Baby!”

Huggs and the Lost Cell Phone

I’ve been telling some basketball stories lately, most regarding coaches I’ve had the pleasure to have met over the years. And don’t worry guys, I won’t tell the best stories. I’d never do that to y’all.

Not yet anyway.

I kid. Anyway, the story I’m about to tell came to mind the other day, and to this day I have no idea exactly what happpened. All I know is that afterwards I was pretty sure Bob Huggins was a warlock, a soothsayer, a seer, or possibly a combination of all three. Here’s the deal . . .

I was heading out to Morgantown for a game, and as usual I took a friend with me. It’s nearly a 4-hour drive, so we usually made a stop around halfway. We pulled off the main road somewhere west of the Ohio/West Virginia border, took a little side road and ended up at a gas station. My buddy went to use the bathroom as I grabbed some soft drinks and chips. We then loaded back up into the car and were on our way.

After about 45-minutes my friend suddenly yelled, “Damn it! I left my cell phone back at the gas station! It’s in my coat hanging on the back of the stall door! Shit!”

Well, hell. We were planning on attending the 10:00am walkthrough like we always did, and by the time we went all the way back to find the phone we’d miss it. So, we decided to call the phone, hope someone answered, and tell them we’d stop and retrieve it on our way back through the following day.

However, although we used my phone to call the number over and over until we got to WVU Coliseum, nobody was answering. We figured it was stolen or that simply nobody was hearing the phone ringing. Bottom line, we both figured the phone was long gone.

So we arrived at the walkthrough, took a seat beside the court, and got ready to watch the preparation for that night’s game. Soon Huggs came over and sat beside me and we began shooting the breeze. I introduced him to my friend, and I couldn’t help but throw this in:

“Yeah, the dumbass left his phone in the bathroom stall of a little Mom & Pop gas station somewhere between Athens and Parkersburg. We tried calling it but I’m afraid it’s long gone.”

At that point Huggs laughed, asked a couple questions about the station (we had no clue of its name and just had a general location), and I assumed it was forgotten.

Except . . .

As we’re sitting there, just chilling and watching practice, Huggs suddenly hands me his phone and says, “Here. Say hello.”

Huh?

“Just say hello, damn it.”

I then say hello, not knowing what the hell was going on, and a woman’s voice says, “Hey honey, don’t worry, we have your phone. It’s under the counter. Just pick it up tomorrow.”

Wait. What? How?

Somehow, Huggs knew exactly the name of the little out-of-way gas station we’d told him about, called it, and explained our problem.

Of course I asked him what the hell just happened. His answer?

“Shoe, I’ve been on every backroad in Ohio and West Virginia looking at players. I knew exactly where you were talking about.”

Huggs, man. He never ceases to amaze.

Meeting The General

Over my coaching career I’ve been lucky enough to meet a lot of good coaches and have become pretty good friends with a few of them. Huggs, Billy Hahn, Gary Williams, Jimmy Patsos, Mike Lonergan and some others are all friends and top notch coaches that I’ve learned a lot from. Through those connections I’ve been able to sit in on the practices of Coach K, Jerry Tarkanian (also had drinks with him and Dickie V but that’s a whole other blog), Tom Izzo (slept in his basement which was pretty cool), Thad Matta, Joe. B. Hall, Rick Barnes, Archie Miller, Keith Dambrot, Skip Prosser, Pete Gillen, Jay Wright, and The General himself – Bobby Knight.

With Coach Knight back in the news (he returned to Assembly Hall last weekend for the first time in 20-years) I was reminded of the first time I met him. It was w-a-y back in the fall of 1985 and I went to Bloomington for a weekend to watch practices. My head coach at the time had some connections, hence the allowance into the otherwise private practices.

As I recall the first practice was around 11:00 AM, and we arrived at Assembly Hall a good 30 to 45-minutes early. Somebody, I can’t recall who, walked us in and sat us at a table right at mid-court. Shortly after we sat down another guy walked in with a big kid in a letterman jacket and they were seated beside us.

The Indiana staff that year was comprised of Ron Felling, Kohn Smith, Royce Waltman and Joby Wright, and one of the graduate assistants was Dan Dakich, who I’ll get to shortly.

I remember Wright in particular was running around nervously, awaiting the arrival of The General and making sure the players were doing what they were supposed to be doing during pre-practice.

Finally, a few minutes before practice was to begin Coach Knight came strolling in wearing a fishing hat and vest. I’m being dead serious here. He’d clearly been doing some angling that morning and hadn’t gotten around to changing yet. After a couple laps around the court he stopped, shook our hands, told the kid beside me to take his hat off, even though coach was wearing a bucket hat with fishing lures stuck to it.

Everyone was scared to death, including me. Hey, I was not yet 30 and had seen The General on television. Hell, it was just 9-months prior when he did this:

Anyway, the dude was a little scary and I was a young coach who was completely intimidated by the legend that was Bob Knight.

He soon went back to the locker room, changed into his coaching gear, and proceeded to begin practice. As we watched, Knight was patrolling the court, making sure everything was done with pinpoint precision. At one point he stopped, pointed at grad assistant Dakich, and told him to move the line up in a drill he was running. Knight walked away, turned to look back, then went back to Dakich and let him have it:

“Damn it Dakich! I told you to move the line closer to the basket! If you can’t follow directions you’ll be running the damn steps!” 

I have to admit it was a little surprising, even to me. I mean, making players run stairs is one thing but I’d never seen a coach threaten an assistant with it. With that still on my mind, when we went to the locker room after practice I asked Dakich if Coach Knight had been serious and he said that absolutely he was, that it wouldn’t have been the first time a grad assistant had run the stairs.

Finally, we actually got to go into Coach Knight’s office and have a chat with him about practice and the state of the team. He was polite, answered questions, and all-in-all it was a nice visit.

A surprise came later though, when John Feinsten’s book “A Season on the Brink” was published. It was a best-seller that detailed Indiana’s 1985-1986 season, and Feinstein had been given unprecedented access to the team and coaching staff. As I read the book I came to a passage that detailed Knight yelling at Dakich and threatening him with running the stairs. Feinsten then recounted a “visiting coach” asking Dakich in the locker room if it was a serious threat and Dakich saying that indeed it was. I have no recollection of Feinstein being there, but apparently he was. Anyway, in a roundabout way I made it into the book. Wild stuff, man. Look it up.

So that was my one and only interaction with Bobby Knight. I saw him at a clinic a couple years later, said hello, he responded with a “Hmmprfgh” and went on his way. Apparently I hadn’t made much of an impression on him, or maybe he was just being an asshole. I have no idea.

And oh yeah, one more thing. Only later was I told that the kid beside me, the kid that Bobby Knight had instructed to take his hat off, was none other than high school sophomore Shawn Kemp. Yeah, that Shawn Kemp, the future 6-time NBA All-Star:

PS- I also saw Knight throw a high school coach out of one of his clinics for talking during his presentation. True story.

PPS- During that same clinic there were a couple aspiring officials in attendance who happened to be deaf. One of them asked Knight if he thought their handicap would present any problems for them as referees. His response was “I don’t know why it would. We have plenty of blind refs already.” Savage.

A Compilation of My Thoughts On Coaching

Over the past few years I’ve posted some of my thoughts regarding coaching, so since basketball season is underway I thought I’d combine them into one compilation. Remember that these are just my personal opinions and nothing more.

THE TRUTH ABOUT COACHING

When I first began coaching over 30-years ago, a lot was different.

Everything was sort of black and white for me then, and there has since been a lot more grays. How did that happen? Experience, I guess.

I’ve always loved kids, ever since the first day I set foot in that classroom at Greenfield Middle School back in 1984. Not once did I regret the profession I chose. But teaching and coaching, although similar in a lot of ways, can also be very different. Students are there because the have to be, players are there largely because they want to be.

You have to encourage kids in both the classroom and on the basketball court, and you have to push them as well. However, coaching takes place in a much more public forum.

In the beginning, I’m sure part of the reason I coached was ego driven. It was a way to replace my playing days, a way to compete in front of a crowd. There was that initial thrill of working the sidelines as the fans cheered for your team.

Over time, that changes.

I learned the game from a lot of old school, in-your-face style coaches, great coaches like Rick VanMatre at Greenfield McClain, Gary Williams at the University of Maryland and Bob Huggins at the University of Cincinnati and now West Virginia. By the way, I just checked and those three have a winning percentage of almost .700. That’s 7 of every 10 games they coached. Pretty damn good. I’m not nearly the coach any of those guys are, not by a long shot, but I’ve sure learned a lot from all of them.

You know one of the most important things I learned in my 30+ years of coaching? It’s that kids can handle anything if they know you care about them. Seems simple but it’s true. If they know you love them they don’t take the criticism personally. They know you’re trying to help them. I’ve heard coaches say, “I’m not here to be anyone’s friend. I’m here to win games.” Well, I agree with that to an extent. I never wanted to hang out with my players and there’s a definite line you don’t want to cross. That said, letting your players know you love them is different. If they know you care about them you can say whatever you want to them. They can handle the criticisms because they know you love them and you’re coming from a good place. Otherwise they’ll quit listening and turn their back on you. That’s a fact.

Quick note – People aren’t completely rational when their relatives are involved, and they shouldn’t be. You can’t take it personally when mothers, fathers, grandparents, aunts and uncles criticize you. Love is blind, man, and it’s OK.

And as a young coach, if you feel like you’re going through a bad time or being criticized unjustly, go talk to another coach. They’ll top your story every time. We’ve all been there, buddy. Many times. It’s all a part of the game, and it’s all a part of coaching.

I’ve seen guys who thought they wanted to coach start and not last more than a few years, mainly because of the pressures that come with the job.

Of the 37-years I coached, only 13 of them were as a high school basketball coach. I spent time as a coach at the Junior High, JV, Little League, and AAU levels. I’ve also spent a zillion hours as a college camp coach and scout, and I’ve been the international coach of a team from the Caribbean on the beautiful island called Montserrat.

And as coaching has brought me to all these places, to college campuses and incredibly exotic locations like the one in the Caribbean, I’ve also seen the game save lives. I’ve seen basketball take kids from the inner-city to the bright lights, and I’ve seen it literally give young players a reason to live.

That’s not an exaggeration, believe me. I’ve seen basketball save lives.

Being allowed to coach is a gift, one of the greatest you can be given. And you know why? Because as great as all the wins are (and I’ve been on both sides, believe me), that’s not what ultimately makes it all worthwhile.

Ultimately, it’s about relationships.

It’s about developing relationships with your players, because that’s what lasts and that’s what matters. Sure, you remember the big wins, the upsets where you won a big game you weren’t supposed to win. You remember those trips to The Convo, the ultimate goal for teams from our area. But what is lasting, what is important, are the relationships. In comparison, the victories don’t mean so much.

Not really.

I’ve loved every player I ever coached, and I hope they know that. How could I not after everything I put them through? How could I not after they stuck with me through it all, through the tough practices, through the blood and sweat and tears, through all the wins and the losses?

Think about it. What would bring you more satisfaction and fulfillment, winning a District Championship or having a former player ask you to be the Godfather to his son?

No contest, man. And it’s not even close.

SOME MORE THOUGHTS ON COACHING

I’ve been a coach for over 30-years now and have experienced just about everything the game can throw at you, a lot of it good and a little of it bad. Honestly, I’d say that my experiences in coaching have been 99.9% positive and I mean that sincerely.

And if I’ve said this once I’ve said it a thousand times: Since I began coaching, kids haven’t changed. Not a bit. However, something has changed, and that is parenting.

Years ago parents let the teacher or coach make decisions and they backed them nearly 100% of the time. Today? Not so much. A lot of parents want to jump in and save their child from any type of adversity, not understanding that letting their kid deal with most of their problems on his/her own is what builds character.

NEWSFLASH: Mom won’t be there to save you when you’re 28-years old and your boss rips you for being late for work. Then again, I’m guessing a lot of these kids will still be living at home, so maybe she’ll try.

But hey, I’ve been lucky enough to have some unbelievably great, supportive parents over the years and I appreciate them more than they’ll ever know. The parents I’ve had since I’ve returned to high school coaching a few years ago have been remarkably supportive. Over the years, however, there have been a few . . .

One year I had a mom rip into me after a game, infuriated that I wouldn’t let her son shoot 3-pointers. Then the following conversation ensued:

Mom: “Why won’t you let Billy shoot the ball! He’s open all the time! Let him shoot it!”

Me: “Uh, you know why he’s open, right? The other team wants him to shoot it.”

Yeah, that didn’t go over too well. When irrational people are faced with logic it’s sometimes hard for them to handle, trust me.

One year I had a parent tell me that I played favorites, and she was a little surprised when I agreed with her 100%.

“You mean you admit to playing favorites?”

“Of course. It’s my job to pick my favorites. And my favorites are the guys who work the hardest and smartest and do what I ask them to do. My favorites are the players that can help us be the most successful.”

Trust me, I’ve rarely known a coach that didn’t put the guys that he thought were his best players on the floor. Most coaches wouldn’t play their own son if they had better players to put out there. To think otherwise is ridiculous.

Another common refrain I’ve heard over the years is this:

“Tommy’s thinking about quitting. He’s not having fun.”

Sigh. Listen up, folks. As Coach Norman Dale said in the movie Hoosiers:

“My practices aren’t designed for your enjoyment.”

Amen.

See, the fun part comes when your hard work pays off and you win. That’s the fun part. Oh, you can have a little fun at practice but if that’s all you do you’ll never achieve that ultimate satisfaction. Oh sure, practice will be fun, but when you play an actual game? Not so much.

That’s not too hard to understand now, is it?

I always tell my guys that you can’t take anything I say personally at practice or games. I may be angry at the way you’re playing, but I’m not angry at you. I love my players. How could I not after the way I push and prod them while they hang in there, listen, and keep working towards getting better?

Players almost always get it. Parents usually do, but not always.

So thanks to those parents who understand, those who know that most coaches really do have their player’s best interests at heart, and that we really do care about them.

Because we do. Promise.

A FEW (MORE) THOUGHTS ON COACHING

Over the years I’ve written a few articles about coaching and my opinions and outlook on various aspects of it. Among these were two called The Truth About Coaching and Some Thoughts On Coaching.

As many of you know I’m not coaching this year so I’ve had the opportunity to watch games and practices all over Southern Ohio, and as I watch thoughts inevitably come to mind. When that happens I jot down some notes with the idea that when I gathered enough I’d publish another article.

Keep in mind I’m not critiquing any coach in particular, and just because I believe what you’re about to read doesn’t mean it’s necessarily correct.

It’s just my personal opinion, kids. Chillax.

Bottom line, times have changed and kids have changed. Actually, parenting has changed and as a result kids have changed. It’s w-a-a-a-y different than it was when I began coaching all the way back in the Fall of 1983. If I tried to coach in 2021 the way I coached in 1991 I wouldn’t have lasted as long as I did, trust me.

As I’ve said many times before on this site and when I speak to teams, coaching is about relationships. That’s always been the case to some extent but it’s exponentially more important today. There has to be some sort of a relationship between player and coach. Your players have to believe in you. As Golden State Warriors coach Steve Kerr said, “Coaching is 90% creating an environment and 10% strategy.”

That is 100% true.

Some coaches believe that showing compassion for their players is a sign of weakness, as if they’re giving up some essential part of their power as leader of the team. The fact is that yelling and berating without compassion will get old really quickly with today’s athlete, and at some point the coach will lose the team.

The ironic part of all this, of course, is that if your players know you love them you can yell at them all you want because they know you’re coming from a good place.

So showing compassion is not a weakness, but a strength.

Another thing I’ve noticed while attending games is that coaches, especially at the smaller schools, are successful when they adjust to their talent. Some coaches have their “systems” or style they like and expect their players to fit into it regardless. Here’s the deal – you can’t recruit players at a small school.  So, you have to adjust and run an offense and defense that fits your team’s abilities and strengths.

Over the last 4-years of my coaching career I had a very talented 6′-11″, 305 pound center. It wouldn’t have been real bright of me to run a fast break and beat him down the floor just because I liked a running style, right? Therefore we mostly (but not always) walked it up and ran our offense through him. Defensively we mostly played a zone where we kept our big man guarding the rim while our guards got out and pressured the perimeter. Hey, you have the luxury of getting out and pressuring when you have a rim protector backing you up.

My point is that just because you, as a coach, like running and pressing doesn’t mean you can – set your ego aside and do what works best for your team.

And that whole “Hey, we do what we do and don’t worry about our opponents” argument is about as dumb as it gets. Of course you have to adjust to your opponents. To not is a path to failure.

College, and some high schools, are different because you can recruit or have the numbers to pick and choose your team. At small schools that’s just not possible,

Collegiately it can go both ways. A coach like Bob Huggins at West Virginia or Jim Boeheim at Syracuse recruit their players to fit their system. Same for the majority of college coaches. On the other hand, guys at the really elite programs like Coach K at Duke, Coach Cal at Kentucky or Coach Self at Kansas grab the best players available and adjust their offense and defense accordingly.

But at small high schools? As I mentioned, you have to set your ego and your favorite style aside and play the hand your dealt.

And hell, there are a thousand different ways to coach. Bobby Knight and Jim Valvano were as opposite as night and day but both won National Championships. Be yourself, man.

Finally, if there’s one thing I learned over the years it’s that the best coaches never, ever stop learning. The day you think you know everything is the day to quit. The game, and the players, are constantly changing and coaches have to change with it.

If you don’t, the game will soon pass you by.

PS- As I’ve mentioned before, many of the basic philosophies of coaching – developing relationships, being able to communicate, and more – apply to teaching as well as coaching. They’re closely related.

PPS- One more thing. Team success depends on many variables like team chemistry, injuries, players getting sick, interfering administrators, etc. Bottom line, they’re all a part of sports. Using them as an excuse will only give your team an excuse to fail. As the great Bill Parcells once said, “You are what your record says you are.” 

Why I’m Running

As many of you know I’ve decided to run for the Paint Valley Board of Education. As of a few days ago my petition was approved and I’ll be on the ballot. There are four people running for two open positions. The incumbents are Justin Immell and Deric Newland, who were both appointed, and they are being challenged by Blake Lloyd and myself, Dave Shoemaker.

I’m running because I care about our community. I care about our school. I care about our kids. I have a deep love for Paint Valley, and I’ve had it for the large majority of my life. I attended school in the Paint Valley district from 1st Grade until the day I graduated high school. I came back and taught in grades 5 through 8 from 1990 until 2013, coached varsity basketball from 1988 to 1996, then was asked to return and coached again from 2012 to 2018. I am the all-time winningest coach in Paint Valley basketball history, and I’m extremely proud of that. In addition, I served as the high school Athletic Director from 1996 until 2007 and was involved in the renovation of our facilities. I’ve also been a substitute teacher in the district from 2013 to the present. All-in-all I’ve been involved in education as a teacher/coach/athletic director/substitute for over 35-years, and 28 of those years have been spent serving the Paint Valley District proudly.

Much of my family has been involved in education, many at Paint Valley. My late mother Kathryn and my late sister Karen taught there, and my late friend and brother-in-law Don “Jigger” Anderson was a beloved principal at our school for 17-years. I was heavily influenced by all of them. I have several relatives who are educators too – Army, Mike, Todd, Josh, Angie, Linda, Rex, Deb, Lori, Terry, Cindy, Laura, and a few I’m sure I’m forgetting. Many of those I mentioned taught at Paint Valley, and countless former students and players of mine have chosen education as a profession  Many are administrators.

I’ve taught and coached thousands of Paint Valley students and athletes. I developed close relationships with many of them and have maintained many to this day. I still have close relationships with many on the teaching staff at Paint Valley as well as some of the administrators and support staffs. I know, appreciate and understand our district’s needs, and I understand how to open lines of communication between the school and community.

As a Paint Valley School Board member I believe communication between the school and community is crucial. Transparency, openness and honesty should be priorities. Community involvement and input is key. After all, it’s your school. A school board member shouldn’t have personal priorities or agendas, nor should they have axes to grind. They shouldn’t micro-manage or try and make decisions they’re not qualified to make. They should let the professionals do their jobs, becoming involved only when the welfare of our students and staff are in question.

And they should always, without fail, exhibit a dedicated commitment to the Paint Valley students, parents, teaching staff, support staff and community.

I care deeply for Paint Valley. To me, the right to be a school board member in a district I love is something I would consider an honor.

And that, members of the Paint Valley community, is why I’m running.

Brad Steven’s Post Game Press Conference Is A Lesson For All Young Coaches

Brad Stevens is the head coach of the Boston Celtics. This year his team was expected to be really good but underperformed all year, culminating with a 4-1 series loss to the Milwaukee Bucks in the second round of the NBA playoffs. All in all a very disappointing season as the Celtics didn’t come close to meeting expectations.

This happens in sports, and coaches respond in different ways. Some blame the players, some blame the officials, and if they’re a first year coach they sometimes blame the team’s previous coach. Not Brad Stevens. Listen up . . .

“I did a bad job. At the end of the day, if your team doesn’t find its best fit, that’s on you. And so I’ll do a lot of deep dives on how I can bet better.”

Take note, young coaches. Don’t point fingers, don’t make excuses. This is how you do it.

When Donnie Played On The Wrong Side of the Ball

Believe it or not I used to coach football. Sure, basketball has always been my true love but I actually coached junior high football for 4-years back when I first started teaching. I coached 1-year at Paint Valley and 3-years at Greenfield McClain. I had a couple good years and a couple that were, shall we say, suspect. Ah, what the hell, I’ll be honest – I had no freaking idea what I was doing, and the story I’m about to tell is evidence of that.

The very first year I coached I had an 8th grader named Donnie. Donnie was a strapping young lad, probably 5′-11′, 200 pounds, in other words a big dude for being just 13-years old. Donnie was a good, honest country boy, simple in his ways and speech.

Anyway, in our infinite football wisdom my assistant and I made the decision to insert Donnie at the fullback position, because hey, the dude was monstrous for his age and could just truck the hell out of any poor 110-pound youngster that might foolishly attempt to tackle him.

On a related note, my assistant had the same football background and experience that I did, which amounted to a grand total of none.

So for the first couple of games Donnie played well, gaining a lot of yards whilst annihilating the occasional player, both on the opponent’s team or ours, that got in his way.

Defensively however, our young squad was struggling. Our guys had a lot of heart but exhibited a distinct lack of interest in, you know, hitting somebody.

Did it ever occur to our brilliant football minds to give Donnie a try on defense? Sadly, it did not. Until one day . . .

My assistant and I were standing on the sideline before a game, lamenting our lack of a defense, when Donnie walked up to us. The words he then uttered not only opened our eyes but changed the football fortunes of the young Bearcat squad from that moment forward.

“Coach, can I ask you something?”

“Sure Donnie, what is it?”

“Coach, I don’t wanna carry the ball anymore. I wanna get that guy what got the ball.”

It took me a second to interpret the words, but I finally realized Donnie wanted to play defense, to get the guy that has the ball.

Well, we weren’t the smartest football coaches on the planet, but if Donnie wanted “to get that guy what got the ball”, then damn it, who were we to get in his way?

Long story short, we put Donnie in at linebacker. On the very first play of the game he steamrolled two linemen trying to block him, grabbed the horrified opposing quarterback by the neck, threw him about 7-yards backwards, then picked up the resulting fumble and lumbered about 40-yards into the end zone.

Like it or not, from then on Donnie did have to carry the ball, but only after he extricated it from the shaking hands of our whimpering opponents.

I would never turn into a great football coach, but I did learn a valuable lesson from Donnie – listen to your players. Sometimes they’re smarter than you are.

 

 

A Few (More) Thoughts On Coaching

Over the years I’ve written a few articles about coaching and my opinions and outlook on various aspects of it. Among these were two called The Truth About Coaching and Some Thoughts On Coaching.

As many of you know I’m not coaching this year so I’ve had the opportunity to watch games and practices all over Southern Ohio, and as I watch thoughts inevitably come to mind. When that happens I jot down some notes with the idea that when I gathered enough I’d publish another article.

Keep in mind I’m not critiquing any coach in particular, and just because I believe what you’re about to read doesn’t mean it’s necessarily correct.

It’s just my personal opinion, kids. Chillax.

Bottom line, times have changed and kids have changed. Actually, parenting has changed and as a result kids have changed. It’s w-a-a-a-y different than it was when I began coaching all the way back in the Fall of 1983. If I tried to coach in 2015 the way I coached in 1991 I wouldn’t have lasted as long as I did, trust me.

As I’ve said many times before on this site and when I speak to teams, coaching is about relationships. That’s always been the case to some extent but it’s exponentially more important today. There has to be some sort of a relationship between player and coach. Your players have to believe in you. As Golden State Warriors coach Steve Kerr said, “Coaching is 90% creating an environment and 10% strategy.”

That is 100% true.

Some coaches believe that showing compassion for their players is a sign of weakness, as if they’re giving up some essential part of their power as leader of the team. The fact is that yelling and berating without compassion will get old really quickly with today’s athlete, and at some point the coach will lose the team.

The ironic part of all this, of course, is that if your players know you love them you can yell at them all you want because they know you’re coming from a good place.

So showing compassion is not a weakness, but a strength.

Another thing I’ve noticed while attending games is that coaches, especially at the smaller schools, are successful when they adjust to their talent. Some coaches have their “systems” or style they like and expect their players to fit into it regardless. Here’s the deal – you can’t recruit players at a small school.  So, you have to adjust and run an offense and defense that fits your team’s abilities and strengths.

Over my last 4-years of coaching I had a very talented 6′-11″, 305 center. It wouldn’t have been real bright of me to run a fast break and beat him down the floor just because I liked a running style, right? Therefore we mostly (but not always) walked it up and ran our offense through him. Defensively we mostly played a zone where we kept our big man guarding the rim while our guards got out and pressured the perimeter. Hey, you have the luxury of getting out and pressuring when you have a rim protector backing you up.

My point is that just because you, as a coach, like running and pressing doesn’t mean you can – set your ego aside and do what works best for your team.

And that whole “hey, we do what we do and don’t worry about our opponents” argument is about as dumb as it gets. Of course you have to adjust to your opponents. To not is a path to failure.

College, and some high schools, are different because you can recruit or have the numbers to pick and choose your team. At small schools that’s just not possible,

Collegiately it can go both ways. A coach like Bob Huggins at West Virginia or Jim Boeheim at Syracuse recruit their players to fit their system. Same for the majority of college coaches. On the other hand, guys at the really elite programs like Coach K at Duke, Coach Cal at Kentucky or Coach Self at Kansas grab the best players available and adjust their offense and defense accordingly.

But at small high schools? You have to set your ego and your favorite style aside and play the hand your dealt.

Finally, if there’s one thing I learned over the years it’s that the best coaches never, ever stop learning. The day you think you know everything is the day to quit. The game, and the players, are constantly changing and coaches have to change with it.

If you don’t, the game will soon pass you by.

PS- As I’ve mentioned before, many of the basic philosophies of coaching – developing relationships, being able to communicate, and more – apply to teaching as well as coaching. They’re closely related.

PPS- One more thing. Team success depends on many variables like team chemistry, injuries, players getting sick, interfering administrators, etc. Bottom line, they’re all a part of sports. Using them as an excuse will only give your team an excuse to fail. As the great Bill Parcells once said, “You are what your record says you are.” 

Shoe: Untied’s Top 25 Viewed Stories of 2018 Defy Explanation

I actually attempted two websites before this one and neither really caught on. The first was called Rock Hard Times and was all about music. The second was called The Inside Handshake and stuck exclusively to sports. Then one day it hit me – why limit myself to one subject? Hell, I have opinions and observations on other stuff as well. Why not open it up to everything? Music, sports, politics, science, entertainment, nature, the list was endless. Thus was born Shoe: Untied, a play on my name along with the idea of sort of letting loose (actually a friend of mine came up with the title and I liked it). Anyway, as you know the site turned out to be a pretty eclectic one, and that’s the way my crack staff and I like it.

One thing I discovered early is that you can never, ever predict what people will like. Sometimes I write something I think is great and get very little response. Other times I write something that I feel is sort of trivial and it just blows up (see drunk pig blog below). Like the title says, it defies explanation.

With that said, here is our annual year-end report and Top 25 Most Popular Blogs for 2018. We’ll start with #1 and work our way down. Just click on the title if you want to take a gander.

Australian Pig Steals 18-Beers From Campers, Gets Drunk, Fights Cow

Yes ladies and gentlemen, a short little article I posted along with my observations back in 2014 got over 500,000 views this past year. For you non-mathematicians, that’s over half a million people. Seriously man, it was about a drunk pig. See, a radio station out in Seattle happened upon my site, liked the post, and put a link to that story on its website. Then the Aussies got hold of it and the rest is history.

UPDATE: Drunk Australian Pig That Started Fight With Cow Killed In Car Accident

Aaaand of course the throngs of people who loved the drunken swine story were interested in the tragic update. On a related note, Australians and I have the same exact sense of humor.

My Side of the Story

Nearly 400,000 people from all over the world heard my side of the story, and I’m glad they did.

Sis

I thought losing a basketball job was a tragic experience. I soon learned that, on life’s grand scale, it wasn’t.

My Dad and I

My memories of my father, who we lost just 53-days after my sister.

“Things Most White People Say” List Is Hilarious, Also 100% Correct

Basically just a repost of some funny tweets I’d run across. Good stuff and people liked it.

Incredible Photo of the Day: Gator Catch!

This was another post that the Australians inexplicably enjoyed. A large percentage of its views came from the Land Down Under.

So How Many People Did The Rifleman Actually Kill?

I love the old TV show The Rifleman, so one day I decided to research just how many people Lucas McCain actually killed. The answer? 120. Ol’ Luke murdered 120 people. But hey, they all deserved it so it’s cool.

Scioto Valley Conference Boys Basketball Preview & Predictions

A preview I wrote regarding our local basketball conference. I must say it’s turning out the way I predicted. So far.

The 2017 Ugly Dog Contest Was An Absolute Joke

My critique of the Ugly Dog Contest and its beautiful winner, Martha.

Cool Beans! Words and Phrases That Need To Make A Comeback

Another story I published a couple years that seems to never go away. Just a simple blog about words.

An American Hero: Ruby Bridges

My story about Ruby Bridges, the little 6-year old African-American who integrated an all-white elementary school in New Orleans on November 14, 1960.

Map of the Day: World Rat Distribution

The most fascinating aspect of this map is that Alberta, Canada is rat free, and it’s not by accident.

Regarding Beach Midgets

Just an offbeat, original little story that people seemed to find hilarious.

15 Reasons I Hate LeBron James (Or Used To)

I wrote this after LeBron left Cleveland with his ridiculous television show, “The Decision”. I really did hate the guy for a few years, but he won me back with his letter admitting he’d made a mistake with the way he left, then returning to Cleveland and ultimately bringing them a championship.

Celebrity Mugshots: My Top 10

Another old post that saw a resurgence of sorts in 2018. I’ve no idea why.

Meet Australian Cow Knickers, the Biggest Damn Cow You’ll Ever See

Again, Australians, man.

If You Haven’t heard of August Landmesser It’s a Damn Shame

I’m truly glad people liked this one, and I’m glad I got to spread the word about August Landmesser.

Paint Valley Basketball Records

This is a page I maintain that’s linked to Shoe: Untied. It gets a lot of hits.

Brad Kerns and Parenting the Way It Should Be

A telling story about one of my basketball parents and also one of the best friends I ever had.

The Many Worlds Theory is Wildly Fascinating

A pretty good example of what an eclectic website Shoe: Untied really is.

Map of the Day: USA IQ Test Scores by State

I had a lot I wanted to say here politically bit I couldn’t pull the trigger.

Man Killed Trying to Bring Christianity to Remote Island Tribe

A recent story that was quite controversial. Seems not everyone agreed with my views.

Another Drunk Animal Causes Havoc, and This Time It’s a Sozzled Squirrel.

Who knew drunk animal stories would be so wildly popular? Not I.

Don’t Think Animals Are Scary Smart? Read On.

There’s a certain segment of people who visit my site that can’t get enough of the animal stuff. They just eat it up. Animals, man.

So there ya go. All in all it was the biggest year ever for Shoe: Untied, and I thank the people who visit because you’re obviously as nuts as I am.

Happy New Year everyone.

 

Wussification Steamrolls Onward: Mommy Files Federal Suit After Son Gets Cut From Soccer Team

LaDue, MO: A St. Louis mother has filed a federal lawsuit, claiming that a soccer coach’s decision to cut her son from the junior varsity team was age discrimination.

The suit claims the soccer coach told the boy’s mom that he was “right on the bubble” of making the team, but that there were too many kids who had a better soccer skill and soccer IQ than him. The coach also wasn’t willing to put the boy on junior varsity again.

The mother and stepfather complained to the school, but they eventually supported the coach’s decision.  The teen’s mom claims her son will face “irreparable harm” if he’s not put on the team.

A judge is expected to make a decision in the case on Monday.

BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! Age discrimination? For realz? Listen, any coach with a brain in their skull will tell you that if two players are of equal talent the younger one usually plays. That’s just common sense, right? Because you’re going to have them longer and they’ll have more of a chance to develop? Bueller? Bueller? Anybody? And sorry kid, but I guarantee your coach was being kind when he said you were “on the bubble.” Newsflash: You were not on the bubble. You were under the bubble. Perhaps nowhere near the bubble. In fact, there were not only “too many kids with better soccer skills” than you, but they also had better soccer IQs. This means you don’t understand how to soccer, dude.

But you know the worst part of this story? The worst part is that mommy squandered a perfect life lesson for this kid, like, you know, work harder to achieve your goals, rewards are earned and not given, stuff like that. I can’t wait until this kid is passed over for a promotion at work when he’s 27 and mom tries to sue his boss. Good stuff, man. If I’ve said it once I’ve said it a million times – how in the world can a kid learn to deal with adversity if mommy and daddy are going to jump in and save them every time they face it?

UPDATE: The judge threw the case out of court, stomped on it, spat upon it and was seen laughing uncontrollably as he skipped away. Good job, judge.

PS- I can totally name some parents who would do this, but I’ll save it for my upcoming blockbuster blog. Stay tuned.

Tennessee HS Athletic Director is Clueless, Also An Idiot

Ladies and gentlemen, meet Soddy-Daisy High School’s athletic director Jared Hensley. Listen, I’m about as non-PC as they come, bit this guy is nuts. I was trying my best to believe the guy might be joking, but I’ll be damned if he doesn’t sound serious as hell. How in the world would he ever think this is OK to say in 2018? I mean, I’ve known some dumb administrators, but . . . never mind, just watch.

My Side of the Story

Thanks men. I’m proud of every one of you.

A few weeks ago things were great. As a high school basketball coach in Southern Ohio, my team had just completed back-to-back 17-win seasons and consecutive trips to the District Tournament at the Convocation Center in Athens, Ohio, our third and fourth trips there in the last 5-years. We accomplished this with few complaints from anybody. In fact, aside from one meeting during our 2015-2016 season and another in 2012-2013, things had run incredibly smoothly in our basketball program. I was extremely proud of my teams, their families and the Paint Valley administration and community. But let’s go back to the beginning . . .

About 6-years ago I was approached by the Athletic Director at out school and was asked to coach the boys basketball team, a job I’d held 16-years prior. I was apprehensive to say the least, so I asked several people their opinion. I was told that it wasn’t a good job, that we were a small school playing much bigger schools for the most part, there was very little talent in the program, and that the kids lacked the commitment to basketball that was evident in football. I was told that it was a different time, that kids were too busy with social media and online games to come to do the extra work or to open gyms.

I took the job anyway, and a week later we had 40 players at our first open gym. Turns out all you had to do was open the doors and they’d come right in. Who knew?

The interest was there, and it soon became obvious there was some talent in our school too.

That first year we won 8-games with a great group of guys, including 5-seniors who set the tone for the years to come. These guys bought into what we were doing and believed in me from the beginning. Our younger players watched them, saw how hard they worked, and that got us off to a good start. That first year we won those 8-games, including a win in the sectional tournament. The next year we won a Sectional Title and went all the way to the District Championship, and followed that up the next year with 16 wins, another Sectional Title and another District Final appearance. After a down year we bounced back with two straight 17-win seasons and two more Sectional Championships. As I mentioned before, all this with only a couple complaints, both of which were addressed and dealt with.

Or so I thought, which brings me back to a few weeks ago.

Again, I had no idea there was a problem until I was asked to come to a meeting with my Principal and Athletic Director on a Thursday. When I arrived I was told that our school board president had been given a list of “Public Concerns”. Right away the word “public” raised a red flag with me because the word “public” made it seem like the entire community was behind it, which I was sure wasn’t the case.

I was then told that the list was anonymous, rendering the term “public” meaningless, at least in my opinion. Hell, anyone can send in a list of complaints and say they were from the public. They may as well have said “national” complaints for all I cared at that point. To me, an unsigned letter is not a letter at all.

However, I was given a copy of the list, which I’ll happily show you later because I want to be as transparent as possible.

As I read the list, it became clear that a few people sat around a kitchen table somewhere, wracking their brain and trying to recall things they could add to the list. Since a few of the “concerns” involved the same people it’s pretty clear who all was involved. Was it a BOE member who actually created the list so they’d have a reason to vote against my renewal? I’ve been told by credible people that yes, it was.

At the time though, I wasn’t really worried. After all, it was a bunch of petty and trivial complaints that I was sure the board would dismiss for what they were, which was basically nothing. The administrators paid to evaluate me – the superintendent, principal and athletic director – were all going to recommend me to be rehired at the board meeting the following Monday.

To be sure, however, I called and texted all the board members to explain my position and to make sure we were all on the same page.

Of the five, two responded positively, one told me he didn’t feel comfortable talking about it and two refused to respond at all. Uh-oh. It was at this point I began to sense something was wrong.

Because of this I thought it would be a good idea to address the board before the vote. I did, and I went over each complaint, explained what each was about, and basically stated my case. Below are my notes regarding each concern, with the concern in bold and my response following. Click to enlarge:

As you can see, most were trivial, and in any event had been taken care of months, and in some cases even years ago.

Note: The complaint about leaving the players who were late for the bus came from one particular over-protective helicopter parent who just can’t get past it. It happened over 2-years ago.

As I went over my notes, one thing became apparent. Three of the board members didn’t care. They refused to look at me. They sat there, heads down and silent. What I was saying was irrelevant. The decision had clearly been made. When I finished there were no questions and zero discussion. This, after I’d given my heart and soul to the district for 25-years.

I was then non-renewed by a vote of 3-2.

After the meeting one board member, the president, stopped and attempted to explain to people who had gathered there, while the others who voted no walked briskly by with their heads down. I was told by the board president that he had, without further explanation, “followed his heart.”

Huh?

One month later, 2 of the 5 board members stepped down in protest, not just because I was non-renewed but because they felt the Paint Valley Board of Education had acted unethically, and quite possibly even illegally, in making the decision. You see, it’s illegal to have private meetings regarding board decisions prior to the board meeting, and this clearly occurred. And oh by the way, texts, phone calls and emails between 2-3 people is considered a meeting. It’s all spelled out in the Ohio Open Meeting Act and Sunshine Law.

Here is one of the board member’s letter of resignation, posted with his permission:

 

The letter speaks for itself.

I’d never blame any of my players for what their parents have done, and I hope you don’t either. I got along with all my players the past 6-years, and even the ones whose parents caused my non-renewal know I care about them. I know this because they’ve told me privately.

Am I upset about what happened? Of course I am. We’d changed the culture and were successful. We’d built something at Paint Valley I was proud of. We were a family. And as many of you know it takes a long time to build a culture, but it can disappear overnight. And in the end, a few people took away something I loved. Worse, I believed I had the support of the three people who voted against me.

Turns out I was wrong. They didn’t even have the courage or courtesy to come to me man-to-man, face-to-face, and address the issue. They took the coward’s way out. I considered all three friends, and I truly believed one would always have my back. He’d played for me and we’d won Paint Valley’s last league title together. Instead of having my back, however, he stabbed me in it.

The best damn fans anywhere. I love you guys.

And yes, I’ve heard the rumors. The board members who are saying that there’s “more to the story.” This is a common tactic among people when they’re trying to put doubt in people’s minds. Believe me, there’s nothing more. If you hear that, demand to hear the “more to the story.” There are no dark secrets. My coaching staff, players, and the administrators who are paid to evaluate me know this.

In retrospect it’s clear this had been in the making for awhile. I know for a fact at least one board member had talked to possible replacements for me as far back as January, and several people have told me that one board member was upset about his son’s varsity playing time. And believe it or not, there were apparently jealousies over all the attention my 6′-11″, 305-pound center received, the same player who happened to end up being the all-time scoring leader in school, league and county history. He also received a full scholarship to play Division I basketball, so yeah, he got some attention.

Bottom line, the decision to non-renew my contract was decided long before that meeting.

And you know the funny thing? All they had to do was sit me down after the season, look me in the eye and tell me that they wanted to make a change. If they’d had the common decency to do that I would have stepped down willingly. Instead, they chose to take the route they took. Guess it was easier for them.

Hey, you learn from these experiences. Some defend you fiercely and some are outspoken against you. And yes, you can learn a lot about those who remain silent too. Your circle grows smaller but stronger.

I’m also fully aware that, although I loved coaching at Paint Valley, there are worse things that can happen to a person. My family members can attest to that right now, believe me.

That said, I still love Paint Valley. I always will. A few small-minded, little, cowardly people can never change that. I wish nothing but the best for our athletes, and I only hope whoever coaches the basketball team loves the team, the school and the community as much as I do. I’m proud of the work I did there, the success we had, and the relationships I developed with my players, coaches, students and the best damn fans in the SVC.

And nobody can ever take that away.