So in between thoughts of impending martial law, the racial and political mess our country is in, and what I was going to have for dinner last night, I was thinking about quicksand. Not the brown, sloppy, gooey, wet, human-engulfing, death-bringing kind, but close. Nope, this is a different kind of quicksand. Shane Falco talked about it in The Replacements. "You're playing a game. And one thing goes wrong, then another, and another and before you know it you can't do anything right. And the more you fight it and struggle, the more you sink. Quicksand." Maybe not the exact quote, but it's close. Shane was talking so eloquently about football. Me? I'm talking about basketball and coaching. I've really only experienced it once as a player. I was a freshman in college playing JV basketball at then Anderson College. We were playing our arch rivals, the evil Taylor Trojans, which is a strange thing to say about a Christian liberal arts college...they would probably say the same thing about Anderson, another Christian liberal arts college. We hated them, and they hated us. We were playing at Taylor that night. I think we may have already beaten them at our place previously, but this one went bad. Really bad. We were awful. I was awful. I made a mistake on defense. Then another, and another. Then one on offense. Turned it over. Missed lay ups. Then a foul, and another and another. I got mad. I was running my mouth. They were in my head. I lost my cool. Before I knew it I was on the bench with 3 fouls in the first half, no points and maybe one rebound. No matter what I did or how hard I fought and struggled, I just kept sinking. I don't even think I played much in the second half. We lost, bad. Quicksand. What's worse is we all had to dress varsity that night, and the JV squad for the Trojans sat in the stands across from our bench taunting us and tormenting us the rest of the night. I think our varsity won, but we had been humiliated. Defeated. We had sunk.
Flash forward. Way forward, and I experienced quicksand again with my 7th graders in our last tournament this past weekend. We had gotten off to a great start. Missing three regulars, we won our first game by 25. We did everything right. The next game we played a very good, very long team from Evansville. We made mistakes but the game was tight most of the way. We lost by double figures. That team made the semifinals in the top bracket. The next day we played one of the best 7th grade teams in the state of Indiana. We led the whole first half. Gave up a big run in the second half, but we competed. We lost by 21. We were outsized and outmanned. They eventually won the top bracket. We had lost our tallest player the game before to an ankle injury. We were still competitive. If we played this team ten times they would probably beat us ten times. This team had beaten one of our rivals, a team we had not been able to beat all summer, by 48 the day before. We felt good. We ended up in the second tier bracket of the tournament. I felt good. I liked our chances. We had to win two games to get to the championship and the second round game looked to be against the team we had beaten by 25.
Then we played our first round game. We played a team that hadn't won a game all weekend. No disrespect to them, but if we played them ten times we would probably beat them ten times. However, we began sinking right from the start. We turned the ball over. A missed layup. A foul. Another turnover. Another foul. Two more missed layups. Five turnovers and six or so missed layups in the first three minutes. Missed shots. More turnovers. One after another after another. More fouls. I think they were in the bonus six minutes into the first half. By halftime we were only down a bucket or two. I tried to motivate. Encourage. Point out mistakes. Who am I kidding? I lit into them. After all, getting into my guys at halftime had worked the weekend before. Not this time. As the second half started we were already up to our wastes in quicksand and continued sinking. More of the same. Missed shot after missed shot. Missed layup after missed layup. Turnover after turnover. Defensive mistake after defensive mistake. Before we knew it we were down by 10. We managed to fight back and cut it to only a bucket late, but by then we had fought and struggled so hard we had continued sinking, and our heads were barely still above the surface and we were taking our last collective breathes. Quicksand. We were deep in it. Stuck and couldn't get out. Time ran out. And it was over. We lost. None of us expected it. We fully expected to be playing on Sunday, likely for the championship. It was disappointing. Heartbreaking in fact. Totally unexpected. Quicksand. It got us. I was speechless for a bit, and so were the boys. The leader of our program spoke softly to the group. We were shocked.
As for the tournament, the team we had beaten big earlier that weekend ended up in the championship game against our nemesis, our rival, the team we hadn't beaten all summer. And they won, again. Our nemesis. But this time it was our turn. We were better. We had improved. We were finally gonna win. We were gonna get em. Then the quicksand got us. And we struggled and we fought and we sunk. Our summer of basketball as a group, as a team was over. In the end, it had gotten all of us. That quicksand. A hard lesson to learn. We had gone into the game too confident, perhaps. Not focused. Not ready to play. Looking ahead maybe. We lost our cool. We struggled. We sunk. We departed the gym by imparting words of wisdom and encouragement on our charges. "You have to be ready every time you step on the floor. You have to be focused. We missed shots. They made shots. They outplayed us. It happens. Learn from it. Keep working." Finally, after everything had been said and although none of us were ready, we said our goodbyes and well wishes, and we all left the gym, with gooey, sloppy, wet, brown sand on our shoes.
Tuesday, July 19, 2016
Tuesday, June 14, 2016
Yep, I'm a Hypocrite
I like one, but not the other. Both family men. Both married with kids. Both without scandal, controversy or off the court problems. Both at the top of their games. Love one, can't stand the other. Yep, I'm a hypocrite. I like Steph Curry. I love Steph Curry. I can't stand LeBron James. I really don't like LeBron James. I was trying to figure out why. They both work hard. They both make their respective teams better. They both have been league MVP. Both have won championships. By all accounts they both seem to be good people.
Here's why, I think. LeBron was "the chosen one." He was hyped when he was in high school. A man among boys if you will. The fanfare, the admiration, the constant buzz...everyone knew he would go straight to the League, which he did. He basically made an impact immediately. Rookie of the Year. NBA All Star team permanent resident. Endorsement deals from the start. So much hype. Too much hype. Too much love and admiration. Too much LeBron. You know how you hear so much about someone that you don't like them before you even meet them, or know much about them? That's LeBron. LeBron has been in the League thirteen seasons, from 2003-2016. The first seven in Cleveland. He led Cleveland to the Finals in 2007, his fourth year in the league. Won some games. Did his thing. Then there was "The Decision" in 2010. The interview where LeBron told the world that he was "taking his talents to South Beach," to Miami. Puke. So much hype. Too much hype. Too much love and admiration. Too much ego. Too much, too much. Then there was the show. The stage. LeBron, Wade and Bosh. All on that stage. Talking about all the championships they were gonna win. Not one. Not two. Not three. Not four. Not...who cares. They won two. But LeBron learned something new in Miami. He learned to flop. He learned acting. He learned to whine. He learned to complain. About everything! If someone breathed on him wrong he wanted a foul. If he was called for a foul, he didn't do it. He learned that scowl he would have on his face, you the one that looks as if he is crying all the time. Yes, you know the one. He became arrogant. The ego. Don't disrespect LeBron. First it was the Pacers and Paul George. Then Lance Stephenson. Don't show "The King" any disrespect. LeBron won two championships with Wade, Bosh and the rest of his cast in Miami. All the while he was touted as the greatest player to ever play the game. Above Bird. Above Magic. Above Jordan. Above Kobe, Shaq, Wilt, Oscar. Too much hype. I couldn't stand it. My dislike for LeBron grew almost to a hatred level. My own son loved him. The arguments we had. My argument was always he may be the greatest athlete to play, but he's not the greatest player. I also argued that he hadn't won enough championships. Mike won six. Kobe won six. Magic won five. Larry three. That's not even taking into account the players that won with Red Auerbach and the old Celtics. His argument was, no matter how much I hate to admit that he had a point, Robert Horry has seven rings, so does that make him the greatest player in NBA history? Is he better than LeBron? Touche' young buck. He had a point. Moving on...LeBron has won four NBA Most Valuable Player awards. Kobe has one. Magic and Bird with three each. Jordan has five. But still LeBron is touted as the greatest ever. I just don't buy it and never have. Greatest athlete and physical specimen, sure. Maybe the most dominant player ever. Capable of dominating any game at any time, as long as he chooses. But the whining. The complaining. He whines and complains during the game, after the game, in the off-season. Always whining and complaining, incessantly, non-stop. I can't stand it. I think if he would just shut his mouth and play, like he did in game 5 of this year's Finals, stop complaining, stop whining, just worry about basketball, dominate, I might like him much more. Maybe love him. But that remains to be seen.
What about Steph Curry? He is the son of a great shooter. I watched Dell Curry when he played. He was smooth. He was true. His shot was pure. He could shoot. That's about all he could do. But man could he shoot. I always wanted to shoot like that but was never willing to put in the time to get there. Steph was a nobody in high school. Under the radar. No one wanted him coming out of high school. But still he worked. He shot. He believed. He was an underdog. My pops, rest his soul, loved the underdog. Always rooted for the underdog. Maybe I'm that way a little. When Steph received all of one, that's 1, scholarship offer out of high school from Davidson, he accepted. He went to Davidson. He worked. He made an impact right away. But no one knew about tiny Davidson and Steph Curry. Then he led his team to back to back runs in the NCAA tournament. The most beloved of all tournaments, arguably, for basketball fans. He led the nation in scoring. Dazzled with his shooting ability and his ball handling. Still no one believed. They said he couldn't play. Said he'd never make it in the League. Couldn't handle the ball well enough. He was too small. Too slow. Not athletic enough. Not strong enough. Still he believed. He worked. He put in the time. Didn't complain. I'm not sure I've ever seen him complain, save for a look of disgust on his face occasionally and the occasional questioning of a call here or there (nothing like LeBron). He was drafted in 2009. But success didn't come right away. He had to work, had to do his time, put in the work, pay his dues so to speak. It didn't happen right away. He seems humble. Always gives credit to his teammates. He's not full of himself. He invites college kids to work his camps in the off-season. And man can he shoot. He can fill it up. His range begins when he steps off the bus as they say. He can handle the rock. He won a championship in 2015, his fourth year in the league. He may win two and go back to back this year, and equal Lebron's total, but get there quicker. He has two, back to back, NBA Most Valuable Player Awards. But he has made himself one of the best in the NBA, and according to the voters, the best in the NBA for two straight years. Still people doubt him. He is still questioned. He's not a leader. He's weak. He disappears when he struggles or when things aren't going well. I have seen Steph have some bad games in the playoffs. He has struggled. I haven't seen him disappear. Haven't seen him quit. He has kept playing. Kept plugging. Kept shooting as all good shooters do when the shots aren't falling. The only time he hasn't played is when he was injured or when his coach took him out. I haven't seen him ask to come out. His own coach has questioned him. Still he plays. Even when no one believes. Gives credit to others and doesn't complain...too much.
So yes, maybe I'm a hypocrite. And I'm ok with that. I like what I like. And I like Steph. It's really a personal preference after all. I loved Dennis Rodman. Magic is my all-time favorite player. But I like Curry. For all the reasons I mentioned. He works hard. He believes in himself. He gives hope to the little guy. The average guy. He's not big or chiseled with muscles. He gives kids hope. So does LeBron, but with a caveat. You have to be born with good genes, unbridled athleticism, speed, strength and muscles to be like LeBron. Not Steph, although I suppose he has good genes too. You just have to believe. You just have to work and put the time in, and maybe have a dad that played in the NBA, or not. You can make it, even when no one thinks you can or will. So keep working, keep plugging, keep shooting. Yep, that's the difference I think. Not that LeBron doesn't work at it or believe in himself. Yep, maybe that makes me a hypocrite. And I'm ok with that.
Here's why, I think. LeBron was "the chosen one." He was hyped when he was in high school. A man among boys if you will. The fanfare, the admiration, the constant buzz...everyone knew he would go straight to the League, which he did. He basically made an impact immediately. Rookie of the Year. NBA All Star team permanent resident. Endorsement deals from the start. So much hype. Too much hype. Too much love and admiration. Too much LeBron. You know how you hear so much about someone that you don't like them before you even meet them, or know much about them? That's LeBron. LeBron has been in the League thirteen seasons, from 2003-2016. The first seven in Cleveland. He led Cleveland to the Finals in 2007, his fourth year in the league. Won some games. Did his thing. Then there was "The Decision" in 2010. The interview where LeBron told the world that he was "taking his talents to South Beach," to Miami. Puke. So much hype. Too much hype. Too much love and admiration. Too much ego. Too much, too much. Then there was the show. The stage. LeBron, Wade and Bosh. All on that stage. Talking about all the championships they were gonna win. Not one. Not two. Not three. Not four. Not...who cares. They won two. But LeBron learned something new in Miami. He learned to flop. He learned acting. He learned to whine. He learned to complain. About everything! If someone breathed on him wrong he wanted a foul. If he was called for a foul, he didn't do it. He learned that scowl he would have on his face, you the one that looks as if he is crying all the time. Yes, you know the one. He became arrogant. The ego. Don't disrespect LeBron. First it was the Pacers and Paul George. Then Lance Stephenson. Don't show "The King" any disrespect. LeBron won two championships with Wade, Bosh and the rest of his cast in Miami. All the while he was touted as the greatest player to ever play the game. Above Bird. Above Magic. Above Jordan. Above Kobe, Shaq, Wilt, Oscar. Too much hype. I couldn't stand it. My dislike for LeBron grew almost to a hatred level. My own son loved him. The arguments we had. My argument was always he may be the greatest athlete to play, but he's not the greatest player. I also argued that he hadn't won enough championships. Mike won six. Kobe won six. Magic won five. Larry three. That's not even taking into account the players that won with Red Auerbach and the old Celtics. His argument was, no matter how much I hate to admit that he had a point, Robert Horry has seven rings, so does that make him the greatest player in NBA history? Is he better than LeBron? Touche' young buck. He had a point. Moving on...LeBron has won four NBA Most Valuable Player awards. Kobe has one. Magic and Bird with three each. Jordan has five. But still LeBron is touted as the greatest ever. I just don't buy it and never have. Greatest athlete and physical specimen, sure. Maybe the most dominant player ever. Capable of dominating any game at any time, as long as he chooses. But the whining. The complaining. He whines and complains during the game, after the game, in the off-season. Always whining and complaining, incessantly, non-stop. I can't stand it. I think if he would just shut his mouth and play, like he did in game 5 of this year's Finals, stop complaining, stop whining, just worry about basketball, dominate, I might like him much more. Maybe love him. But that remains to be seen.
What about Steph Curry? He is the son of a great shooter. I watched Dell Curry when he played. He was smooth. He was true. His shot was pure. He could shoot. That's about all he could do. But man could he shoot. I always wanted to shoot like that but was never willing to put in the time to get there. Steph was a nobody in high school. Under the radar. No one wanted him coming out of high school. But still he worked. He shot. He believed. He was an underdog. My pops, rest his soul, loved the underdog. Always rooted for the underdog. Maybe I'm that way a little. When Steph received all of one, that's 1, scholarship offer out of high school from Davidson, he accepted. He went to Davidson. He worked. He made an impact right away. But no one knew about tiny Davidson and Steph Curry. Then he led his team to back to back runs in the NCAA tournament. The most beloved of all tournaments, arguably, for basketball fans. He led the nation in scoring. Dazzled with his shooting ability and his ball handling. Still no one believed. They said he couldn't play. Said he'd never make it in the League. Couldn't handle the ball well enough. He was too small. Too slow. Not athletic enough. Not strong enough. Still he believed. He worked. He put in the time. Didn't complain. I'm not sure I've ever seen him complain, save for a look of disgust on his face occasionally and the occasional questioning of a call here or there (nothing like LeBron). He was drafted in 2009. But success didn't come right away. He had to work, had to do his time, put in the work, pay his dues so to speak. It didn't happen right away. He seems humble. Always gives credit to his teammates. He's not full of himself. He invites college kids to work his camps in the off-season. And man can he shoot. He can fill it up. His range begins when he steps off the bus as they say. He can handle the rock. He won a championship in 2015, his fourth year in the league. He may win two and go back to back this year, and equal Lebron's total, but get there quicker. He has two, back to back, NBA Most Valuable Player Awards. But he has made himself one of the best in the NBA, and according to the voters, the best in the NBA for two straight years. Still people doubt him. He is still questioned. He's not a leader. He's weak. He disappears when he struggles or when things aren't going well. I have seen Steph have some bad games in the playoffs. He has struggled. I haven't seen him disappear. Haven't seen him quit. He has kept playing. Kept plugging. Kept shooting as all good shooters do when the shots aren't falling. The only time he hasn't played is when he was injured or when his coach took him out. I haven't seen him ask to come out. His own coach has questioned him. Still he plays. Even when no one believes. Gives credit to others and doesn't complain...too much.
So yes, maybe I'm a hypocrite. And I'm ok with that. I like what I like. And I like Steph. It's really a personal preference after all. I loved Dennis Rodman. Magic is my all-time favorite player. But I like Curry. For all the reasons I mentioned. He works hard. He believes in himself. He gives hope to the little guy. The average guy. He's not big or chiseled with muscles. He gives kids hope. So does LeBron, but with a caveat. You have to be born with good genes, unbridled athleticism, speed, strength and muscles to be like LeBron. Not Steph, although I suppose he has good genes too. You just have to believe. You just have to work and put the time in, and maybe have a dad that played in the NBA, or not. You can make it, even when no one thinks you can or will. So keep working, keep plugging, keep shooting. Yep, that's the difference I think. Not that LeBron doesn't work at it or believe in himself. Yep, maybe that makes me a hypocrite. And I'm ok with that.
Wednesday, June 1, 2016
Still About Winning...and So Much More
Five years ago I wrote an article about winning. It was about the winning mindset and how the group of kids I had at the time, and for the previous few years, sometimes had it and sometimes didn't. I also wrote that that particular group was a bunch of nice kids, too nice at times on the basketball court. Those kids were 7th graders at the time. I remember having one or two hyper-competitive players on my summer team who would do anything and everything to win. They were all nice kids. The rest of them, well, sometimes they got after it and sometimes they didn't. I also stated that sometimes they cared about winning and losing, and sometimes they didn't. Someone pointed out at the time that I was blaming my win/loss record, or lack of success on the kids or the parents, who had raised their kids right and taught them to be nice off the court. That couldn't have been further from the truth. I have never cared about my record, success, or lack thereof.
Flash forward to 2016. I am now coaching another son and a crop of 7th graders who have just finished or will be finishing their 7th grade school years very soon. Some of them have played with each other on school teams. But they have never all played together as a team. What is interesting is that things really haven't changed much. I will say that this group cares a little more about winning, and they take losing a little harder. This group is a little more scrappy, a little more aggressive, a little dirtier. They want to win. I believe it's because most of them have older brothers, sisters or both. They have brothers who play sports in high school, or brothers that played in high school and have gone on to play in college. Sisters who similarly play in high school or did, and have gone on to play in college. Some of the siblings were multi-sport athletes. Some specialized. But this group seemingly has been through those knock-down, drag-out fights in the driveway, or the back yard or the living room or the neighborhood with those siblings. It shows. Don't get me wrong. They are great kids. They are well-behaved, even nice. But these kids have a bit of an edge to them. Some of them are a little hard, "dirty" even. But off the court, they're nice. Polite. Some of the best kids you'll ever meet. And good basketball players, some from small schools, some from bigger ones.
Back to my record and success or lack thereof. I have never cared about my record. I love to win and I hate to lose. I try to instill that in the kids that play for me. When I was young, I wanted to win at all costs. Everyone I knew wanted to win at all costs. If all I cared about now was winning, I would go out and recruit, no I would battle, and get the best player from every team in the area. But I don't. I have always preferred local kids, kids from small schools, farm schools, kids that by the time they get to high school have developed, with my help I like to think, the will to go out and compete with the kids from the big schools and the kids with the most talent. Kids with integrity and character. Not that the kids from big schools, or the ultra talented don't have those things. I like kids I can develop. I try to teach my kids that while winning isn't everything, it sure is fun. I also don't shy away from teaching them that they have to learn how to take losing their own way. I hated losing. Took it pretty hard. Until I got older and wiser. What I learned is losing should bother you a little bit. Whether it was a game you should have won, or a game you had little chance of winning. You shouldn't dwell on it and let it consume you, but it should eat at you a little. Drive you to do more work, to improve your skill set, your mindset and to get a little better. But what I really care about is teaching kids the game. I care about teaching basketball skills and situations. I care about developing skills and mindsets. I care about teaching kids life skills that will benefit them later when they are in high school or have graduated and moved on to college or the workforce. I care about teaching them to pay attention to detail, to do things correctly and to do things the way they've been taught. After all, I have played the game since I was a kid, in high school and in college. I have been studying the game and coaching it for a long time. I know a little. I care that each and every one of the kids that plays for me improves his game, his knowledge of the game or his intensity or competitive nature while playing for me. To me that is success. And, based on that, I have been very successful. I have compiled a long list of kids that have played for me over the years who have gone on to play basketball or other sports in college, perhaps the subject of a separate blog. But I like to think I have had a little bit to do with that. I also care about developing relationships. Relationships with the kids, with the parents, with other coaches. Relationships developed by the kids, who may be rivals or enemies during the school year, but get to know each other and become friends while playing together in the summer, spending time together at practice and in hotels and swimming pools and breaking bread together or taking trips to Smoothie King between games at tournaments. I treasure the relationships I have developed with kids who have graduated from high school, gone on to college and still call me "coach." Some of them may have only played for me for one summer or in a Fall league before their season started. Some for several years. But they still call me "coach." That is what is important to me. It is still about winning. We all want to win. Especially these young kids who have battled those older brothers and sisters, who may have learned how important winning is when they got to high school and passed it on to these young kids in the driveway. Those older kids also learned how important their teammates were, how important those relationships were. They learned that while they may compete and be rivals or enemies on the court, and although they definitely wanted to win when they all played against each other, they learned that it is more important to maintain those relationships and that they can be friends, in some cases for life, off the court. I remember when the class of 2015 graduated. So many of the kids that played with and against each other attended each other's open houses, hung out together, and maintained those relationships. They still talk and exchange stories. I see these young kids now, including my own son, doing the exact same thing, with maybe a few more trips to Smoothie King. They are developing relationships, friendships that will last in some cases for a lifetime. They are swimming in pools, running the halls of the hotels, hanging out in the workout rooms or eating dinner together. They're nice kids. They're good basketball players. They're competitive. They want to win. It is still about winning, but it is about oh so much more.
Flash forward to 2016. I am now coaching another son and a crop of 7th graders who have just finished or will be finishing their 7th grade school years very soon. Some of them have played with each other on school teams. But they have never all played together as a team. What is interesting is that things really haven't changed much. I will say that this group cares a little more about winning, and they take losing a little harder. This group is a little more scrappy, a little more aggressive, a little dirtier. They want to win. I believe it's because most of them have older brothers, sisters or both. They have brothers who play sports in high school, or brothers that played in high school and have gone on to play in college. Sisters who similarly play in high school or did, and have gone on to play in college. Some of the siblings were multi-sport athletes. Some specialized. But this group seemingly has been through those knock-down, drag-out fights in the driveway, or the back yard or the living room or the neighborhood with those siblings. It shows. Don't get me wrong. They are great kids. They are well-behaved, even nice. But these kids have a bit of an edge to them. Some of them are a little hard, "dirty" even. But off the court, they're nice. Polite. Some of the best kids you'll ever meet. And good basketball players, some from small schools, some from bigger ones.
Back to my record and success or lack thereof. I have never cared about my record. I love to win and I hate to lose. I try to instill that in the kids that play for me. When I was young, I wanted to win at all costs. Everyone I knew wanted to win at all costs. If all I cared about now was winning, I would go out and recruit, no I would battle, and get the best player from every team in the area. But I don't. I have always preferred local kids, kids from small schools, farm schools, kids that by the time they get to high school have developed, with my help I like to think, the will to go out and compete with the kids from the big schools and the kids with the most talent. Kids with integrity and character. Not that the kids from big schools, or the ultra talented don't have those things. I like kids I can develop. I try to teach my kids that while winning isn't everything, it sure is fun. I also don't shy away from teaching them that they have to learn how to take losing their own way. I hated losing. Took it pretty hard. Until I got older and wiser. What I learned is losing should bother you a little bit. Whether it was a game you should have won, or a game you had little chance of winning. You shouldn't dwell on it and let it consume you, but it should eat at you a little. Drive you to do more work, to improve your skill set, your mindset and to get a little better. But what I really care about is teaching kids the game. I care about teaching basketball skills and situations. I care about developing skills and mindsets. I care about teaching kids life skills that will benefit them later when they are in high school or have graduated and moved on to college or the workforce. I care about teaching them to pay attention to detail, to do things correctly and to do things the way they've been taught. After all, I have played the game since I was a kid, in high school and in college. I have been studying the game and coaching it for a long time. I know a little. I care that each and every one of the kids that plays for me improves his game, his knowledge of the game or his intensity or competitive nature while playing for me. To me that is success. And, based on that, I have been very successful. I have compiled a long list of kids that have played for me over the years who have gone on to play basketball or other sports in college, perhaps the subject of a separate blog. But I like to think I have had a little bit to do with that. I also care about developing relationships. Relationships with the kids, with the parents, with other coaches. Relationships developed by the kids, who may be rivals or enemies during the school year, but get to know each other and become friends while playing together in the summer, spending time together at practice and in hotels and swimming pools and breaking bread together or taking trips to Smoothie King between games at tournaments. I treasure the relationships I have developed with kids who have graduated from high school, gone on to college and still call me "coach." Some of them may have only played for me for one summer or in a Fall league before their season started. Some for several years. But they still call me "coach." That is what is important to me. It is still about winning. We all want to win. Especially these young kids who have battled those older brothers and sisters, who may have learned how important winning is when they got to high school and passed it on to these young kids in the driveway. Those older kids also learned how important their teammates were, how important those relationships were. They learned that while they may compete and be rivals or enemies on the court, and although they definitely wanted to win when they all played against each other, they learned that it is more important to maintain those relationships and that they can be friends, in some cases for life, off the court. I remember when the class of 2015 graduated. So many of the kids that played with and against each other attended each other's open houses, hung out together, and maintained those relationships. They still talk and exchange stories. I see these young kids now, including my own son, doing the exact same thing, with maybe a few more trips to Smoothie King. They are developing relationships, friendships that will last in some cases for a lifetime. They are swimming in pools, running the halls of the hotels, hanging out in the workout rooms or eating dinner together. They're nice kids. They're good basketball players. They're competitive. They want to win. It is still about winning, but it is about oh so much more.
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