Jack’s Blog

There hasn’t been anyone who’s seen the video of former Rutgers basketball coach Mike Rice who can believe it.  Including (probably) Mike Rice.  Coaches - even some of the most highly successful ones who have been around for a long, long time - have been quoted that they felt uncomfortable just watching it.  Kobe Bryant claimed he would’ve “smacked the hell out of him” - even if he were only an 18 year old freshman.  Yet, not one of the Rutgers’ players even gave their coach a dirty look.  Keep in mind, however, the video was a “highlight film” (or “lowlight”) of Rice’s bullying antics, i.e. what people saw wasn’t from just one practice.  In fact, it might have been a compilation of weeks of practice video.

Most people have asked “Why did they take it?”  Why did none of them act in the manner Kobe said he would have.  Did the coach brainwash them?  Actually, that might exactly be why they took it.  Here’s my scenario (and keep in mind, it’s nothing more than conjecture, i.e. there is not a shred of evidence to it):

Coach Rice: “Look, guys, we’re the ugly stepchild of this league (the Big East).  Nobody has any respect for us.  Everybody bullies us.  For us to win, we’re going to have to be tough.  Tougher than the guys who want to bully us.

“So I’m going to bully you.  Now, it will just be in practice.  Before and after practice, nothing about our relationship will change.  My door’s still always open, you’re still my guys .  But, at practice I’m going to bully you.  I’m going to shove you, verbally abuse you and throw balls at you.  How are you going to react?  Are you going to cave in to the bully?  Or are you going to ignore him, play harder and beat him?”

Once again, this is complete conjecture.  After seeing the video - and noticing the players never seemed to get upset, never questioned Rice (although in other clips, players are seen pushing back assistant Jimmy Martelli after he shoves them - hey, assistants only get so much leeway) led me to believe that these were playing along.  Like it was a play and they were playing a part in it.  Why else would macho guys - as a good deal of today’s ballers see themselves - allow themselves to be subjected to such bullying.  Especially by somebody who recruited them - who was in their homes, spoke with their parents and their coaches.  You know he never told them to expect any such tomfoolery at practices.

Naturally, even if this were true, Rice could never admit it as it’s as asinine a strategy as telling them to play on their knees in order to get lower in their defensive stances.  Plus, admitting to using the homophobic verbiage as a ploy - in any day and age - but especially this one would force any administrator to fire him on the spot.

All of the above is only my imagination’s explanation of what occurred at Rutgers, so we should all keep in mind that:

“Just because you can justify something in your own mind doesn’t make it right.”

Yesterday’s blog never happened due to “an intermittent power issue last night which interrupted service” - whatever all that means.  I just know that every time I started, I couldn’t get whatever or wherever it was I needed to blog.  And that’s about as technical an explanation as you’ll get from me (because that’s as technical a reason as I know).

Regarding the question of whether John Beilein should have played Trey Burke after getting two fouls in the first half of the national championship, allow me to tell a story of a similar situation (hey, it’s what I do best).  We (Fresno State) were in the NCAA tournament as a #9 seed that had beaten #8 Cal a couple nights before.  Now we were going up against #1 Michigan State who was very talented at every position and had a huge frontline.

Melvin Ely, a 6-10 center, was our best player.  Sure enough, he picked up his second foul early (like within first five minutes of the game.  Tark left him in.  Big Mel then picked up foul #3.  Tark still stayed with him.

We wound up losing.  In the press conference Tark was asked about it and gave two answers.  The long answer was that he felt for us to win, Melvin had to have a big game, meaning score and rebound big, and get their plethora of big men in foul trouble.  If Melvin didn’t, there was no fooling anybody - we had no shot.  Tark said it wasn’t really that great of a risk because while he hoped Melvin wouldn’t have picked up that third one, there was no way we were going to win anyway.

Some (non-coaches) will say Tark didn’t show enough confidence in his team, that “stranger things have happened.”  And they’re entitled to their opinion.  Maybe they can even cite an example of such an instance in which a team playing without their star - and winning - against a taller, stronger, quicker, more talented squad. Usually, though, in that scenario, if you stay long enough following the game, you get to see the credits roll.

The move he made hadn’t surprised me because in previous years I’d heard him discuss what his philosophy (not necessarily the right philosophy) was about protecting great players who got into foul trouble:

“He’s not doing us any good sitting next to me.”

If you were to ask the media what percentage of the questions they ask are fair, they undoubtedly would say 100%.  Unless they’d say 110%.  That logic is based on their feeling that they not only can, but are mandated to ask any and all questions based on their belief that the public has a right to know.  How many media people would like to have the tables turned on them is unknown but we can rest assured that it would be considerably less.  Like 100%.  If not 110%.

Take last night’s scenario.  The guy’s team just lost a game.  He feels bad.  And this wasn’t just a big non-conference game, nor was it a tough contest against a conference foe, a conference tournament fray or even an early NCAA tourney defeat.  The loss was for the opportunity to play for the national championship, the ultimate in a coach’s life.  His team wasn’t blown out, which would have given him a few minutes to realize it was all over and maybe collect his thoughts.  No, it went down until the final seconds and now . . .

He has to give his final post game speech for the season to his team which is naturally quite sentimental.  If he’s like any other coach I’ve ever known (head or assistant), he’s gone up to the squad’s seniors, one at a time, and told each one how much he appreciated their effort for the past year (or two, three, four or five).  Keep in mind the pair will be ending the relationship they’ve known for however many years.  If the coach recruited that player, the finality of the situation can be overwhelming emotionally.

Finally, his school’s media relations person tells him it’s time he must, according to NCAA tournament rules, go the press room.  The head coach is certainly upset but he harbors no ill will because he 1) understands tournament procedure and 2) implicitly trusts his media person, having “gone through the wars” with him.

The media knows all of this.  While the majority are professionals, there are inevitably one or two (or maybe more, depending, quite frankly, on the coach) who are champing at the bit to ask a question (or questions) to the person who they feel disrespected them.  Maybe a member of the media doesn’t particularly like a coach because of something he said or did to a friend or colleague.  In any case, there always seems to be someone - more so if the coach is controversial - who will see if they can say something to set the coach off, to get under the his skin.

As far as asking Boeheim if he’d return for next season, was it really necessary?  Or was it asked in an attempt to provoke the coach?  Why would his answer even matter?  Would it be binding?  Or would it give that reporter a chance to get another dig in at Boeheim if he changed his mind at a later date?  Besides, how important is it?  Syracuse already has a coach-in-waiting in Mike Hopkins so it couldn’t be to run the rumor mill about which coaches will be his successor?  Obviously, my take on the situation was that the question was more irritating than unfair.

I believe it was a big league manager who once said:

“When I think someone has a hidden agenda, I never give an answer with anything that could possibly come back to haunt me.”

Heading into their match up with Michigan, Billy Donovan, a coach who’s noted for details or, as we’ve learned during the media time out, logistics, needed to come up with a game plan for his Florida team.  One strategy would be to pressure the Wolverines and try to force as many turnovers as they could so the Gators would have numerous opportunities to score in the open court.  That had been their usual plan throughout the season.  Another method would be to make it a half court game so that the Gators could take advantage of their superior size and pound it inside because UM usually played with four guards and only one big man.

Donovan chose the one that exploited the inside mismatch.  On paper it was an excellent philosophy - except for the fact that his inside guys weren’t as noted for their back-to-the-basket skills as much as they were for facing up and offensive rebounding.  I wonder how much time Billy himself worked with those inside guys, explaining how vital it was they scored (as much as I’d like to think players listen to an assistant - having been one for 30 years - I fully understand their antennae tune in more sharply when the head man speaks).  Not pressing the action defensively as much as they could have meant the greater majority of their point production had to come from the “bigs.”

It might have been a moot point because had his team extended its defense to attempt to create turnovers against Michigan, the Wolverines’ guards might have broken the pressure.  Then any of their three point shooters (of which they have four on the floor during most possessions) would have been knocking down shots - scoring in threes.

Basically, there are two philosophies in forming a game plan: 1) if we go to our strength(s), will that be good enough for us to win or 2) would it better to attack their weaknesses?  Naturally, there are others but for the most they’re derivatives of the two above.  Unfortunately, the Gators looked much more reactive on defense and, while they were getting the ball inside, their bigs weren’t scoring, mainly because they’re not true back-to-the-basket players.  Before you know it, they were down a couple.  Touchdowns.  It was 13-0 and it only got worse.  UF attempted to rally but every mistake was magnified, e.g. fouling a three point shooter at the end of the half which thwarted the minor momentum they’d built.

Billy Donovan has currently been to three consecutive Elite Eights.  Florida fans might be disappointed they haven’t gone farther.  Well, Gator Nation, Ben Howland is available.  Oh yeah, he committed the same crime at UCLA (although his were Final Four “failures.”  For now, the Florida faithful can take solace in the fact they seem to be stuck with Billy the Kid - the same guy they cheered when he changed his mind and reneged on the offer he’d accepted from the Orlando Magic.

When a game between relative equals starts out like the UF-UM game did yesterday, it tends to balance out after a while or, as George Raveling used to say:

“The game will return to reality.”

In yesterday’s blog, I mentioned CoachGeorgeRaveling.com as a website that is well worth visiting.  One area of George’s site is a Q&A in which I ask him questions about himself - information that very few people are aware of - in order for people who don’t know him (as well as those who do) to better understand this complex individual.  To date there are somewhere in the neighborhood of twenty such segments.

A week or so ago George and I had lunch when he told me he wanted to video another set of vignettes in the near future.  As sort of a scoop for those of you who read this blog, I’ll let everyone in on one questions I plan to ask him during our next recording session.  It’s no secret that there are infinitely more people interested in coaching on the college level than there are positions.  Ask any head coach and he (or she) will tell you that on a seemingly daily basis they’re getting letters, phone calls, emails, recommendations - whatever type of communication available - from or about candidates for coaching positions.

Something I’ve noticed since I began in college coaching 40 years ago is that while coaching is such a coveted profession, an overwhelming majority who earn their living in the coaching business (on the Division I college level) are bitter when  their careers end - especially those who ascend to the position of head coach.  One would think that someone who finally reached the pinnacle, who got to grasp the brass ring, would be elated when their careers ended.  One would be wrong.  By a lot.

For example, of the ten head coaches for whom I worked, I’d say eight of them didn’t leave on their own terms.  While some get over it, others never do.  Bump into them - I’m talking about all former coaches now, not just my ten bosses - and when the conversation gets around to their career, they’ll either start to reminisce about when times were better or tell you (for the nth time) how such-and-such administrator/booster/player/assistant/you-name-it stabbed them in the back or didn’t give them enough time or didn’t understand how difficult the job was.

George wasn’t one of them, although his departure from coaching came after a retired professor ran a red light on the outskirts of USC’s campus and broadsided his car, not only forcing him into retirement but nearly ending his life.  How many more years George would have coached is unknown but with multiple broken ribs, a broken pelvis, broken back, punctured lung and numerous other injuries coaching took a backseat to . . . living.

A couple of former coaches with whom I’ve been reunited - if only via Sirius FM radio - are part of the small minority of D-I head coaches who got out of coaching on their own volition and are loving life.  It shows in their radio personalities and in their voices.  One is Bobby Cremins whom I first met when he was the head coach at Appalachian State and I was an assistant at Western Carolina.  For those of you who are unaware (meaning nearly everybody), these two schools are bitter rivals, Appie State on top of the mountain and WCU in the valley.  It’s like the Hatfields and the McCoys.  We had some epic battles in the Southern Conference.  We got the better of them; they go the better of us.  Bobby did well enough to land the Georgia Tech job.  He did so well there, they ultimately named the floor at Alexander Coliseum after him, but not before firing him first.  He said he was going to take a year off before coaching again. That year became six - before he took the reigns at the College of Charleston where he led them back to the glory days of legendary coach John Kresse before retiring to a life of radio and golf.

Another guy who had a nice run in the profession was Tom Brennan.  Tom led the University of Vermont into the NCAA tournament, a feat similar to climbing Mount Everest.  With mittens.  Barefoot.  I began my 30-year journey through nine D-I institutions at UVM and while I realize the situation was better for Tom than it was for us, it’s only because . . . it had to be.  In 1972 I went there as a grad assistant for $1,000 plus graduate school tuition.  Oh yeah, I was the only assistant.  Our head coach, Peter Salzburg, was in his first year and was hauling in $12,500.  Our entire budget, not including salaries and scholarships was $9,975.  I don’t care what kind of improvements they made, there should be a statue of Tom Brennan outside Roy L. Patrick Gymnasium.

When Bobby or Tom are on the radio, each has a wonderful sense of humor - usually the self-deprecating kind.  When they are pointing out interesting and insightful information, neither takes himself too seriously.  They enjoyed their head coaching successes, endured their failures (which were numerous since each took over absolutely dreadful jobs) and exited gracefully, moving on to where they are thoroughly enjoying their current gigs.  The other ex-coaches (whose agents got them radio and TV jobs) sound like they’re interviewing for their next job every time they express an opinion. Because they are.

Brennan, however, after hearing of lavish gifts heaped upon someone when he announced his retirement (I can’t recall the name now), joked that when he left Vermont, they gave him a barbeque.  “And I was thrilled!”

Since nothing good comes from stress - and no one’s getting out of life alive - probably the best way to view what’s going on in the tournament is to use the line retired Texas Tech football coach Sonny Dykes said:

“We are fixin’ to have more fun than a little.”

College kids storming the floor after a huge win (”huge” being relative at different universities) has become as much a part of campus life as homecoming.  Hey, why not?  Coaches and athletics administrators implore students to attend games and be loud!  “We especially need help tonight against our rivals, State U, who’s #1 in our league/in the country.”

So they follow orders, support the players and, often, really make a difference.  Maybe a little one but in a close game, all the squad needs is a point or two.  Maybe the team gets a bucket because of a hustle play by a player not known for going all-out.  Or maybe one of their guys shortarms, better yet, airballs a free throw into a crowd of waving, screaming, stomping students.

The game progresses and as the scoreboard hits 0:00 with the home team - the major underdog - ahead!  For all their hard work and sweat, the players celebrate on the court.  Why would anyone expect the students to act any differently?  Let them loose!  Where the professional game and the college game differ is the players are being mobbed by their classmates.  

Naturally, the problem is for the safety of the group of visitors.  Mike Krzyzewski (whose team has been on the receiving end of more floor rushes than anyone else) has expressed concern for his players’ safety.  One idea is to, in the waning seconds, escort the losing club and have security make sure the remaining players on the floor get off safely.  In the past this hasn’t been an issue.  Like in the past boarding an airplane wasn’t an issue.

Just as a very small number of people seem to have ruined it for the overwhelming majority, we now have issues at basketball games.  These “sore winners” feel it necessary to verbally abuse the visitors at exactly a time that all they want to do is get into their locker room with their own people.  Of course, there’s a chance tempers would flare and the situation escalate.  Or the perpetrator, perhaps fortified with liquid courage and feeling the “strength in numbers” behind him, might just act beyond foolish and cause an incident.  Even if Mike’s proposal to guard the visiting team were put into effect, there would be no accounting for the game in which the outcome was decided by a last second shot - a make by the home squad or a miss by the favored visitors.

I’ve been involved with quite a few such “storming the Bastille” situations - on both sides.  At Fresno State we beat Tulsa in the finals of the WAC tournament (which was held on Fresno State’s home floor) to punch our dance card to the NCAAs.  At that time, Bill Self’s team had lost four games - three of them to us, this one by the largest margin - three.  During the regular season, we’d won at Tulsa by one and in Fresno by two.  Terrence Roberson hit his only three-pointer of the game on our last possession with the score tied, we got a stop and . . . batten down the hatches!  After addressing our guys in the locker room, Jerry Tarkanian went into theirs (the only time he ever entered an opponent’s locker room after a game) and said, “I only wish I could get our guys to play as hard as you guys do.”  He capped off the tribute with his trademark, “You’re the best.”

One year I was an assistant at USC, we had a magical run, finishing in the top 10 in the nation.  In the (then) Pac-10, we’d beaten UCLA both times and entered the final game (this was prior to a Pac-10 conference tournament) 14-3 in league play.  The Bruins were 15-2, meaning we’d gotten no help from anybody.  In order to win the championship, we needed to beat Arizona at home and then watch and hope Arizona State could defeat UCLA later that day.

We were down by one with seconds to play and ran a play for Harold Miner, our All-American.  Of course, the Wildcats weren’t going to let him score.  They doubled him, leaving our point guard open.  He took a 15-footer - and missed.  Our do-it-all combo guard, Rodney Chatman, picked up the rebound on the baseline about eight feet from the basket.  Because there was so little time, he simply flipped the ball at the basket.  Later (no replays for referees back then), ESPN’s cameras showed the ball had left the tips of his fingers with 0:00.1 tick left.  Good basket.  Game over.  Trojans win.

Our head coach, George Raveling, didn’t wait for the students to storm the floor.  He sprinted across the floor and dove into the student section!  UCLA beat ASU a couple hours later to dampen our parade but I’ll never forget George’s - and the students’ - reactions.

About three weeks prior to that thriller, we traveled to Pullman, our (George’s and my) old stompin’ grounds, he being the head coach there for 11 years and me being a graduate assistant and earning my master’s from Washington State.  We were neck-and-neck with UCLA for first place in the league.  WSU shot the lights out and beat us.  And their student body stormed the floor.  As we headed back to the locker room, George turned to me and said:

“I can’t believe it, Jack.  A team storming the court after beating USC in basketball.  We’ve finally arrived.”

Survey after survey claimed fans wanted instant replay.  Now, I’m not so sure it’s such a good idea.  Granted, more incorrect calls are being overturned (yeah, I know, every now and then, a correct call will be overturned), but at what cost?  Flow and momentum are two vital pieces in football and basketball.

With every stoppage of play, the flow of the game is interrupted.  I’ve heard some people say the answer is to put a clock on the referees for their decision, but that’s counterintuitive to the purpose of instant replay.  It appears to the viewer that the referees want to make absolutely certain they get the call right - which, with instant replay, they ought to.  In the past, if an official kicked a call, announcers, coaches (after a brief cooling off period - briefer for the winning coach), fans (and even refs themselves) would say, “Hey, they’re (we’re) only human.”

Therein lies the problem.  Instant replay takes out the human element.  Now the officials are expected to get the call right.  If they miss one, there’s always the complaint - “why didn’t you check the monitor?”  Unlike football with coaches’ challenges, in basketball referees stop the action, on their own, to check, for example, whether a shot was a two or a three.  Unless it’s the last two minutes, can’t the extra ref sitting at the scorer’s table look at the monitor and determine whether the call was correct before the next dead ball?  Coaches would be pleading with the alternate ref rather than one of the three working the game.  Then, if the call was correct, the game continues and no one’s the wiser.  If incorrect, then announce to the crowd (as well as separately inform a representative of each team) that the shot was whatever it was, and that the score is being corrected.  The reason someone from each team must be told is, believe it or not, coaches and players occasionally get so wrapped up in the game, they fail to hear a PA announcement, no matter how loud.

I saw a game a few days ago in which the referee who was supposed to make the call stop the game because he was unsure whether the shot was a two or three.  The delay lasted entirely too long and when they showed the best angle, it could only have been known for sure if the camera zoomed as close to the court as possible.  As it was, play was continued, with the opposite call that I, and the announcers, thought was as it should have been. In that case, the old method of having the referee make the call and, then, commenting on how he missed it!

Now, irrefutable evidence comes into play.  There are so many times, especially in football, where the call that was made on the field was upheld because of lack of irrefutable evidence.  Yet, had the opposite call been made, it also would have been upheld.  How can that be?  Irrefutable evidence has to be irrefutable.  It sounds just like “beyond a reasonable doubt.”  There’s an idea.  Maybe we should have juries determine calls during games.

Interrupting flow is annoying, especially to coaches and basketball purists because the game (at least, a well-played one) has such a beautiful, natural rhythm to it.  But, interrupting momentum is, or ought to be, a sin.  Anyone who has taken in a game in which one team is way ahead and the other team comes storming back, scoring and getting stops, independent of the winning team changing strategies, substituting, calling time out, whatever! understands momentum.  It’s something people in the arena, watching on TV or listening on radio can feel.  Stopping a game at such a point is nothing short of ruining it.  There are many other examples of momentum that are more subtle but, nevertheless, stopping it is a major advantage to one team while being disadvantageous to its opponent.  In football, stopping play in a game played in inclement weather is infuriating to coaches and players (and the fans who are freezing their butts off waiting for action to resume).  In basketball, it’s during the mini-runs that can break a game open.  Too many times this is occurring in today’s games although good referees are aware of these instances and are hesitant to stop the action, unless absolutely necessary.

The bigger problem, though, is the seemingly interminable delay in games.  As awkwardly as it sounds, the problem is:

“The replay may happen at the instant but not for an instant.” 

DON’T DO IT!

Seriously, although going through three days of detox with my wife was brutal, I did manage to lose eight pounds.  While there are more that need to go, I guarantee they won’t be lost via detox.  The only reason I finished this ordeal was because of my wife.  First of all, I promised her I’d join her in this tomfoolery.  Next, Jane was the one who made all those nasty smoothies.  After the first one of those dreadful things, I wouldn’t have been able to justify spending the time it took chopping, slicing, dicing and blending the fruits, vegetables and flax seed - and, I’m sure, whatever other foul ingredient the recipe calls for.  I might have been able to brew the green tea but as I mentioned in Saturday’s blog, I don’t like tea.  In any color.  The only T I like is the kind that’s called against the opposing team.  And only then if we have a good free throw shooter.

As far as soaking in a bath for 30 minutes with 2 1/2 cups of Epson salt (and 10 drops of lavender), c’mon.  2 1/2 cups of Epson salt!  I thought I was in Utah.  They (whoever “they” is) say it’s a good idea to read, that it relaxes you. One admission: I haven’t taken a bath since my little duckie drowned.  Maybe I forgot the technique, but I gave the reading idea a try.  I just can’t figure how to read and not get the magazine wet.  By the end of the half hour, the magazine was as wrinkled as I was.

I did lose significant weight but there have got to be more pleasant methods.  With the three-day detox program, you’re supposed to feel more rested and energized.  Maybe all my medical problems, e.g. multiple surgeries and the subsequent pain, made me a bad candidate for the three-day plan.

The best thing, however, is if you listen really hard, you can hear a large woman with an operatic voice.  Not only has the fat lady sung, she’s taken her bows and left the building. What I’m most grateful for is:

“The next time I get my shoes shined, I won’t have to take the guy’s word for it.”

For those of you who read this space yesterday, you’re expecting the second installment.  That was the plan - until, as the saying goes, life got in the way.

After I left the dentist’s office today, I stopped at a Subway on the way home for a sandwich.  Outside the store, which is located about a block away from the junior high, I noticed a shopping cart with a few items in it, one of them a baseball glove.  There was a kid, junior high age, sitting nearby.  He said, “Excuse me, can I have a dollar for . . . ”

“No, sorry,” I cut him off.  It’s not that being panhandled is a pet peeve of mine.  In this case, what bothered me was that this was a predominantly upper class area and a young kid who, upon first blush (which may be somewhat prejudiced), looked anything like a person who needed to beg.  I remember thinking, “Now!  At your age?  This is the career choice you’ve selected?  Sorry, no.”

I went inside, ordered my sandwich and didn’t think any more of that initial scene - until another, older kid showed up and lurked in the doorway.  The young lady working at Subway recognized this apparent trouble maker and told him to go.  He walked past the store, giving her the one finger salute, followed by, you guessed it, my little friend and another little lost sheep who hooked up with the pair.  Not surprisingly, the trio returned, led by the obnoxious older boy.  As soon as I saw them, I sensed the situation was going to escalate, so I called 911.  He burst into the store and began dog-cussing the owner, dropping senseless racial epithets.  Although he was no farther than ten feet away from me, he had no idea I was explaining what was happening to the 911 operator.  It rather evident that this youngster was under the influence of something, calling the Middle Eastern owner the n-word, accompanied by f-bombs and other slang.  When the owner raised his voice and demanded the wannabe gangsta leave, the kid picked up a chair and hurled it at the middle-aged man.

The action did no harm, except for enraging the owner who chased after the youngster.  As we all learned long ago, when people are attacked, they make one of two choices: fight or flight.  Cowards, such as the one in this story, choose the latter.  When he got just outside the door, he collided with one of his smaller buddies who must have thought his man was going to choose the former.  The two collided, the owner caught up and fists were flying.  They weren’t hitting anybody, just flying.  Finally, the kids took off as I gave the play-by-play to the woman on the other end of my phone.  Evidently, she was passing along the info because she said to me, “OK, I think the officers have them against the wall near the junior high.”  Some criminals.

I went to the owner who, by now was on the phone to a friend (or relative or lawyer), explained I had called 911 and the kids had been apprehended.  He thanked me as I was getting a refill of my Diet Coke.  Naturally, while all this was transpiring (and I was talking to the operator), I never stopped eating my 6″ tuna and provolone on wheat (with avocado - my new health kick).  My curiosity got the better of me so, rather than drive home, I went out of the parking lot in the opposite direction.  Fresno’s Finest must be more efficient than most departments because as I pulled out heading south, I noticed a couple patrol cars headed the other way.  I U-turned at the light and returned to give my “deposition.”

During the entire experience, my mind kept returning to the same topic:

“Where are the parents and what are they like?”

We leave for San Bernadino and San Diego to catch the Cal State Monterey Bay Otters play their final two road contests.  In the past seven weeks I’ve put 5000 miles on my (what used to be new) car.  The following story is from my book Life’s A Joke.  I was one of the less memorable moments of my first year in college coaching.  The blog will return Tuesday.

The year 1972 marked my first college coaching job, a graduate assistantship at the University of Vermont.  The stipend was only $1,000 plus tuition for graduate school.  Naturally, I was going to find the cheapest place I could to live.  I was gung ho about coaching in college after having spent my first two years after graduation teaching math and coaching football and basketball at my alma mater, Highland Park (NJ) High School.

I knew I was going to spend most of the time at the office and just needed a place to sleep at night.  I drove from New Jersey to Vermont, about a six-hour drive, got a newspaper, looked through the rental properties and noticed that there was a room in someone’s home for $80/month.  This was about the best deal I could find, so I went to the house, spoke to the people and found out that they had two grown children who had moved out of the house, a son and a daughter, and they were renting out their rooms.  I would have one room, another grad student would have the other bedroom, ans we would share the bathroom.

I signed the piece of paper the lady handed me which served as a contract and the she uttered the words, “Of course, we don’t allow you to bring any girls up to the room.”

Anxious to get back to New Jersey and realizing I probably wasn’t going to find anything cheaper, I said, “I understand.”  After I got there, I realized that the social life wasn’t going to be too good in Vermont with this type of arrangement.  The people were extremely kind, allowing us to use the living room to watch TV.  We even occasionally got into the refrigerator.

One day I was downstairs and looked up at the pictures of their son and daughter on the wall.  The daughter, I thought (or talked myself into believing) was relatively attractive, so when the mother said, “Oh, by the way, our daughter is coming over tonight,” the wheels of my devious 24-year-old mind started turning and I thought maybe this was a way to circumvent the rules.

I got all cleaned up, thought I was looking and smelling pretty good and figured, “Let’s see how the evening unfolds.”  Knock on the door and I heard the parents say, “Oh, hi, honey, come on in and meet Jack.”

I turned around, trying to give about the coolest look any guy could possibly give when I was the most shocked I ever was in my life. I was staring at their daughter.

The nun.

Sir Walter Scott said:

“Oh what a tangled web we weave when first we practice to deceive.”