Jack’s Blog

On many occasions I’ve told people I wish I had listened to my colleague (and former geometry teacher) way back in 1971.  George Towne (and that’s really his name) brought in to Highland Park High School one of those huge IBM mainframes.  He was going to teach all of HPHS’ math teachers about this computer thing.  I was in my second year teaching math and coaching football and basketball at my alma mater, but was working toward obtaining a graduate assistant position (by writing over 200 letters to colleges at all levels, all over the country).

Since I knew exactly what I wanted to do, I avoided George and his new giant, rectangular friend - which took up about a quarter of the space of our tiny math department office.  Why did I need to know about something so far removed from hoops?  Somehow, I always managed to get out of his workshops, not realizing how much more comfortable I’d be when computers became the rage.

Although my shortsighted anti-computer attitude is one of my great regrets (unlike another Jersey guy, I have many of them), it had no shortage of company from others in the coaching fraternity.  In the mid-70s, work was the catchword of my new profession and that is what all of us prided ourselves in - outworking people - day and night.  And loving it!

By the 1980s the work ethic paradigm was still in vogue but with a caveat - eating better and exercising.  More fiber, smarter food choices and jogging swept through the profession.  But, for the life of me, I can’t remember computers as an integral part of our work with the possible exception of the athletic development and ticket offices.

During the early 1970s, I worked for George Raveling as a grad assistant at Washington State.  Rav, who became one of my two greatest mentors, and I hooked up again in 1991 at USC, only this time my title was associate head coach.  Cell phones had now flooded our profession, as well as the rest of society.  It was becoming evident that computer knowledge was going to be mandatory for success - or survival.

If there was someone who knew less about computers than I did, it was my man George.  Only he had a plan.  He simply followed the advice of my other brilliant mentor, the late John Savage, who used to say, “Never do anything you can get someone else to do.”  It wasn’t as trite it sounded.  For example, in addition to being a motivational speaker, John was a giant in the life insurance industry.  During one of the newly established NCAA dead period (May), I’d travel with him when he spoke and he was the most basic, down-to-earth person I’d ever encountered.  One thing he’d say to other insurance agents was, “Why waste your time filling out an application?  Have your secretaries fill out apps.  Do what you do best: sell!”

George, now in his 70s, is one of the brightest people I know.  He’s always shared information with his friends, whether it’s the best dining or shopping experiences or book recommendations and travel spots.  While he’s certainly capable of learning computer skills, he felt (since he has the means), “Why not get someone else to do it?”  He’s hired an absolute computer whiz (whose name is withheld because I haven’t asked him for permission to print it) who’s designed CoachGeorgeRaveling.com.  It is chock full of information, in addition to where to dine, shop and what to read, there are interviews with George and legendary coaches (Lefty Driesell, Jerry Tarkanian, John Chaney, Nolan Richardson, Joe B. Hall, John Calipari) as well as other sports figures (David Falk, Ann Meyers Drysdale, Harry Edwards, Howard Garfinkel).  Also, there are a plethora of sensational interviews with George himself.  Sensational because I happen to be the one interviewing him.

Other categories are articles (two of which I’ve authored - Top Ten Traits of a College Assistant Coach & The Greatest, Most Realistic, Pressure Free Throw Shooting Drill) on nearly every area of basketball - for coaches and players, the latest NBA news, George’s famous “Life Lessons”, leadership, and other topics that are captivating, interesting and educational.

Anyone who knows George Raveling will tell you he has no problem spending money.  Luckily, throughout his life, he’s had no trouble making it either.  He put together his strength with a concept spoken about in a book titled The McKinsey Way by Ethan Raisel to create his website (which I’m sure you realize I highly recommend):

“I would rather be surrounded by smart people than have a huge budget.  Smart people will get you there faster.”

Each of my last two years at Tennessee, our guard, Tony White, was the leading scorer in the SEC.  He was a scoring machine.  Against Florida State, in the finals of their Christmas tournament, he went 16-22 from the floor (no three pointers) which is 73% and 17-19 (89%) from the line for 49 points.  He was unstoppable and it seemed like he scored on every one of our possessions.  What ruined it was we lost.

Because I’m a basketball fanatic, I knew that the college record was 113 by Rio Grande’s Bevo Francis in 1954 but due to the date it was set, I somewhat discounted it.  Yesterday, I heard Jack Taylor of Grinnell (IA) College scored 138 points against Faith Baptist Bible.  138 points!  In order to score that much, you have to shoot an awful lot.  And Taylor put up 108 shots.  1-0-8.  Some kids are taught that if they want to get better, they need to practice shooting 100 shots every day.  This guy did it in a game.

His stats were: 52-108 FGs, 27-71 three-pointers and 7-10 FTs.  That’s 48%, 38%, 70%.

All of that is hard to comprehend so I’m going to take the advice of my late mentor, John Savage:

“When you are about to open your mouth to speak, make sure what you have to say is an improvement on the silence.”

He missed 56 shots 48% 38%

There is a large, vocal group of fans who are beside themselves because there is no Division I football playoff.  “Why,” they cry, “are NCAA champions crowned on the field, court, pool, wherever, in every sport and division except for D-I football?”  After witnessing the D-I national championship basketball game, they might want to take some campaign time off.As I have blogged on several occasions, while a playoff creates incredible enthusiasm, it doesn’t always produce the “best” team in the nation.  A friend of mine, Mike Adras, head coach at Northern

Arizona

University, must share that feeling as he’s been thrust into the headlines because of his vote in the final men’s basketball poll.  Mike’s been a voting member for several years and when he cast his last ballot, he did not put UConn at the top spot.  Maybe he voted right after watching the game.

The Huskies are indeed national champs and won it exactly how those anti-BCS people claim a championship should be won: on the field of competition, in Monday night’s case, in the vast confines of Reliant Stadium.  Yet, on Mike’s ballot - as well as everyone else who voted - there were numbers: from 1-25.  He did not place UConn first.  He didn’t even put them second.  In his view, he voted the teams in the order he felt they deserved, namely,

Ohio

State #1 and

Kansas #2.  Just as he had done all season.

Driving home from a place I frequent entirely too much, Stanford Pain Management, I was listening to, first, KNBR out of San Francisco, then ESPN radio.  On one of the programs, it was mentioned that this controversy could have been avoided if only there was no poll after the national championship game!  After all, isn’t that why we have a playoff?  Good point.

As I mulled the question of a “do we really need a post-national championship poll?” over in my mind (something I have three hours’ worth of driving time to do - each way), a line my late friend and mentor (another mentor reference, Vaz), John Savage, used to say about situations which made no sense popped into my head:

“It’s like scratching something that doesn’t itch.”

ESPN’s Jay Bilas has quite the resume - bachelor’s from Duke, player and assistant for Coach K, law degree.  When Jay talks, people listen.  He’s extremely articulate and knowledgeable.  It’s just that sometimes, he’s wrong.  Hey, who isn’t?

When VCU was included, more than one person was incensed - and, based on their “body of work,” it did look like they must have had pictures of the committee members in compromising positions.  No one was more vocal than Bilas.  He made his point - again and again.

Now that the Rams are headed to the Final Four, many doubters have admitted that, at the very least, VCU certainly belonged in the tourney.  Not Bilas.  Even after they pummeled the final #1 seed, he grudgingly said they played well, but, prefaced the remark with the fact that KU didn’t play their normal game.  There was no mention that, possibly, VCU had something to do with the Jayhawks’ poor performance.

Jay even did research (although he probably instructed an intern to do the actual work), informing the viewing public that VCU made 12 three-pointers and never, not once, during the season had they connected on as many.  As if that stat was one of the reasons for his rant on Selection Sunday.  Bilas’ main statement following the Rams-Jayhawks?  “Let’s face it, Kansas played badly.”

Not once did he admit he might have been wrong when he so vehemently condemned the committee for including both VCU and UAB.  He mentioned that it wasn’t about winning a game in the tourney, “everyone in the field is capable of that,” it was about their undeserving inclusion.  Since ESPN’s show was devoted to both the committee’s decisions and predicting winners of the games, he concluded with the condescending remark that it wasn’t like the bubble teams that were being discussed were going to win the National Championship anyway.  They still might not but I tend to think his comment was about reaching the Final Four as well.  Wonder if he hopes Butler wins on Saturday.

John Savage, my late, brilliant friend and mentor, used a powerful line in many of his speeches.  In fact, it had such an impact on my other mentor, George Raveling, that he often uses it.  It’s something the ego of Jay Bilas refuses him to admit: 

“Sometimes it’s good to be wrong so that others may be right.”

The University of Connecticut football program should be congratulated for what they’ve accomplished in such a short period of time.  They finished the season 8-4, won their conference and cracked the Top 25.

In order to win the Big East, they had to come out on top in five of their seven league games.  They lost to Rutgers and Louisville, two conference programs that had down years.  Three of their league wins were squeakers against West Virginia (in OT), Pitt (by 2) and South Florida (by 3).  They “blew out” Syracuse (23-6) and Cincinnati(38-17).  Their non-conference schedule?  Victories over Texas Southern, Buffalo, and Vanderbilt.  They lost to Michigan by three and Temple by two - touchdowns.

So how do they get to play in a BCS bowl game?  Because the BCS is comprised of six major conferences with the Big East being one of the six.  People tend to forget that the Big East was formed as power conference - for basketball!  In a reversal of what mainly drives the NCAA, i.e. football, that sport was an afterthought as far as Big East leadership was concerned.

The Big East was the brainchild of four schools - and one man, Dave Gavitt: St. John’s, Georgetown, Providence and Syracuse - three of whom didn’t even field a Division I football team and the other who barely did (although it had a rich tradition, especially when it came to #44’s - Jim Brown, Ernie Davis and Floyd Little).  The Carrier Dome was always sold out - between November and March.  In 1979, the quartet invited Seton Hall, Rutgers, Holy Cross, Boston College and UConn to join them and form a conference.  Rutgers and Holy Cross declined.  The following year, Villanova (another non-D-I football school) became a member.  In 1985, three of the four made up the Final Four, with the Wildcats providing one of sports’ greatest upset by defeating the heavily-favored Hoyas.

How does that history translate into the Big East becoming one of the six conferences that would determine the course of Division I football?  Simple.  The good old boys network was hardly going to leave out Dave Gavitt, one of the most respected - and powerful - men in intercollegiate sports.

Since then, then league has added members so that it’s currently comprised of 16 members, eight of whom play D-I football - most of them not very well this year.  Notre Dame is an independent in football, not that their inclusion this past season would have raised the level of conference play to that of the other five conferences.  Or of Boise State or TCU or, even, Nevada.

Boise State got left out of a BCS bowl because it had one loss - in overtime - to a top 20 team.  Michigan State had one loss, a blowout to Iowa and Nevada, the team that burst Boise’s bubble (and cost themselves over a half million dollars) lost only to Hawaii - on the island.  Any of those would be a better representative than UConn (as would several others who lost more than once).

When the Boises and Nevadas (and TCUs) have great years, the elite (like Ohio State’s president Gordon Gee, who claimed they had such glowing records because they played the Little Sisters of the Poor) always make the claim, “Yeah, but how would they do playing in a BCS conference?”  This year I’m not so sure UConn could have finished any higher than third or fourth in the WAC.  The Huskies were included because, as my man, the late John Savage used to say:

“It’s not the company you’re with, it’s the company you keep.”

Once an NFL season begins, teams lose players to injury.  The Denver Broncos lost one of theirs to the cruelest injury of all.  Kenny McKinley, their second year wide receiver, apparently took his life.  Making matters more difficult to comprehend was the fact that he had flown to South Carolina ten days ago and returned with his one-year-old son because he wanted to spend time with him (since he was on the injured reserve list due to a second knee operation).

In one article alone, various teammates and coaches used such phrases as “laughing,” “joking,” “his jovial self,” “absolutely normal,” “gregarious,” “a big smile on his face,” “had such a love for life,” and “looking on the bright side of being out for the season . . . because he got time to spend with his son.”  Also in the article it was reported (but not attributed) that he had been depressed about his surgery (which took place a month ago) and, during a subsequent game of dominoes, mentioned that he should kill himself.  The statement was so out of character that no one took him seriously.

My late mentor, John Savage, a superstar in the field of insurance, was a frequent speaker to companies, organizations and groups of salespeople.  John was an icon in his business (the only person to have spoken to the insurance industry’s Million Dollar Round Table twelve consecutive years).  He was brilliant in his summarizing of all aspects of sales and life.  I was fortunate to travel with him during many of his speaking engagements throughout the nation and in each one, he would recite the poem Richard Cory to his audience.

“Whenever Richard Cory went down town, we people on the pavement looked at him.  He was a gentleman from sole to crown, clean favored, and imperially slim.  And he was always quietly arrayed, and he was always human when he talked; but still he fluttered pulses when he said, “Good morning,” and he glittered when he walked.  And he was rich - yes, richer than a king, and admirably schooled in every grace.  In fine, we thought that he was everything to make us wish that we were in his place.  So on we worked, and waited for the light, and went without meat, and cursed the bread; and Richard Cory, one calm summer night, went home and put a bullet through his head.” 

John always followed that with the following line (one that all of us need to keep in mind when we envy the lives of “the rich and famous”):

“You have no idea what’s going on in that other person’s sack of skin.”

Finally out of that intense Las Vegas heat and back to Fresno - where, just to remind us of the fun we had in Sin City, the thermometer is well over 100.

Younger son, Alex, and the undermanned AAU team of kids from Central Cali (Organized Chaos), represented the Valley well, going undefeated (3-0) in their pool and winning two games in the “Championship” bracket (including a 77-51 trouncing of D-1 Sports of NC, led by Quincy Miller, rated by most as the #2 rising senior prospect in the nation) before dropping a two-point decision to Urban DFW in a contest in which OC led most of the way.

Other than getting a chance for my wife and I to watch our son and agonize over every missed shot and turnover, cheer every basket and assist and “help” the officials (some parents more than others - they know who they are), the trip gave me a chance to catch up with some old coaching friends I haven’t seen in a decade or longer.  NCAA rules preclude coaches from talking to parents of prospects at such an event but, because I have what’s referred to as a “pre-existing relationship” with so many of these guys, I enjoyed speaking, without fear of them getting in trouble, with many of the coaches whose profession I used to call my own.  Heck, I’ve known these guys a whole lot longer than I’ve known my son!

To paint a picture of what last Wed-Mon was like, there were three or four tournaments in Las Vegas involving high school prospects.  The one our kids played in (the adidas Super 64) had 40 pools of 4 teams in each pool.  160 teams!  Following pool play, teams were placed in “championship,” “gold,” “silver” or “bronze” divisions, depending on their record against the other three teams in their respective pool.  Then, single elimination tournaments began.  The other events were similar, although their numbers weren’t quite so high, more like 30-60 teams. 

One day, I received a call from a friend and former colleague who I had actually helped get into the business.  He’s currently an assistant coach at a school in a league that would be referred to as mid-major.  He called while travelling from one of the 20 or so sites.  The pace is hectic, as coaching staffs try to see (and be seen by) as many of their “top-line” prospects as they can, evaluate those players they’ve heard about or received interest from (but have yet to see play) and, especially in the case of low-to-mid-majors, maybe find an as yet unknown player whom they’d have a shot at successfully recruiting.

This coach remarked to me that he was fully aware his job was to get players, players who, in coaching parlance, “could play,” i.e. make their team better, win more games and get his team into the NCAA tournament - or get fired.  For the most part, that’s the prevailing attitude that exists in Division I now.  Why?

I posted a blog on 11/28/07 entitled The Biggest Problem in College Basketball Today.  My number one answer?  Colleges are paying coaches too much money.  Whether you agree or not, the blog is well worth reading and I suggest you check it out, keeping in mind I wrote it nearly three years ago.  The game - and profession - have progressed but, often, with progress comes problems.  Or in the case of today’s college basketball scene, increased pressure.  While what Gonzaga has done, i.e. seeing them in a Top 10 poll is no longer shocking, is remarkable, the presidents and athletics directors of the other seven teams in the WCC (Gonzaga’s conference) adopt a feeling of “If they can do it, why can’t we?” 

The WCC is a league of eight church-schools, six in California and the University of Portland, in addition to the Zags, so resources would seem to have been relatively equal throughout the league when Gonzaga began its ascent.  Don’t think the prez’s and AD’s don’t have egos.  When their counterparts from Gonzaga walk into WCC meetings, the “have-nots” begin to wonder, “Why not us?”  Changing the coach often becomes the answer.  So, while my friend’s statement about “get players or else” might have seemed a little dramatic, it’s become reality.

Yet, coaches love their profession.  Some for different reasons than others, but working long hours - and many days on the road - is just part of the job.  Consumed is the word that’s used when the coaching profession is discussed.  As a sort of personal experiment, I asked my friend if he knew who Shirley Sherrod was.  Although hers was the lead story in nearly every paper in the nation, he told me he didn’t.  In fact, when he called, he was in the car with an assistant coach from a high-major program (BCS) and he asked him if he knew about Shirley Sherrod.  Same response. 

I am not including this story to disparage nor criticize my friend and his associate.  It’s mentioned because, when I was an assistant (between 1972-2002), I wouldn’t have known about a front-page story like Shirley Sherrod either.  I don’t mean to infer that every coach on the Division I level is ignorant of the Shirley Sherrod story.  It’s just that, because of the consuming aspect of the job, there’s a feeling that nothing else matters other than what you ought to be doing to make your team better and advance your career (or keep from derailing it).  In addition, you get the (absurd) feeling that while you’re reading about that A-1 story, you could be calling a prospect or seeing another game.

My late, brilliant mentor, John Savage, used to say there were some people at opposite ends of the spectrum.  Most coaches were the latter in his statement:

“Some people are a mile wide and an inch deep, while others are an inch wide and a mile deep.”Â

For the true hoops junkie, now is a miserable time.  Not as bad as the middle of June, i.e. after the NBA Playoffs have concluded, but still a bad enough period to leave us with an empty feeling.  Things will get better in a couple weeks or so, when the best (if not the best behaved) athletes in the world start playing for real, but as for now, there is a void.

Some people might spend some quality time with their families (who, if they don’t share the same passion for the game, have been “on the back burner”), some might even read a book, others will force themselves to watch the NBA games - trying to talk themselves into the importance of teams trying to get into the top eight or improve their playoff position - or others will do something else to “get a life.”

If you’re one of those who feels depression coming on, consider you might be in the latter category of the following line from my wonderful mentor, the late John Savage:

“Some people are a mile wide and an inch deep, while others are an inch wide and a mile deep.”

Our younger son, Alex, plays in a tournament at perrenial power DeLaSalle this weekend (Thursday, Friday & Saturday).  With as many trips to the Stanford Pain Management Center as I’ve been forced to make, my sick leave has dwindled to near microscopic levels so taking Friday off is out of the question.  In addition, I’m still old school enough to believe that if someone is paying you to do a job, you ought to fulfill your obligations - in an honest manner.  In addition, my walls are covered with quotes on several topics, one of which is accountability.  Taking a sick day to watch the basketball team just doesn’t qualify as a sick day.  

As bad as I feel physically (and probably will continue to feel until the docs find the right level for this new medication), I wouldn’t feel bad about taking a sick day.  Because of my current health condition, no one would even think to question it.  But not to travel three hours to the Bay Area to watch a basketball tournament - even if my son is playing in it.

So, why go at all?  High school seasons aren’t that long and with Buchanan’s last game was cancelled because the opposing coach suspended 10 players for various transgressions, there went another chance to see ol’ Alex in action.  Bust out of school after the bell rings on Friday and I’ll be able to see two of the team’s three games.  That type of sacrifice is worth it - even though I’m sure I’ll be paying for it on Sunday.

Sure, Alex is just a sophomore, but if anyone thinks three years is a long time, consider what my late, brilliant mentor, John Savage (who also served as my financial advisor), once told me when I questioned locking up a fairly substantial amount of money for three years (albeit at a high rate of interest):

“If you think three years is a long time, borrow money from someone that’s due in three years.  You’ll be shocked at how fast time flies.”�

Most people are lauding Alabama’s Nick Saban as a turnaround expert and a brilliant football coach.  Both of those complimentary phrases are beyond argument.  Saban is both and I defy anyone to challenge them.

As a person, there have been several other descriptions.  Most of these are true as well.  Here’s my first hand account of dealing with Nick Saban, man of many adjectives, each of them carefully designed by Nick himself (both the complimentary and not-so).

When Saban was introduced as the University of Toledo’s new football coach (coming to TU from the Houston Oilers’ staff), I was serving as the associate head basketball coach for the Rockets.  The occasion for his introduction was at the Rocket’s golf tournament, its major annual fundraiser.  The head of the Rocket Club, assistant athletics director, Bob Fountain, had asked me to emcee the dinner which was to follow the tourney.

Bob told me that since (most of) the participants had been drinking while playing (normal behavior for such an event), that he’d appreciate it if I could inject some humor into the dinner.  This role was nothing new for me.  I’m pretty quick-witted and understand that people tend to donate more when they’re happy, so I knew to throw in some self-deprecating humor (not difficult at the time because I didn’t play golf) and make some cracks at the expense of the “heavy hitters,” all of whom I knew well as this was 1990 and I was entering my fourth year at TU.  I’d served as emcee for dinners for years, so I prepared as I always did with some “golf humor” and was ready to give the folks a good time.

Throughout the dinner, I’d joke that Mike Cicak (one of the most astute businessmen and most generous people I’d ever met, as well as best friend of my mentor, John Savage) sliced his first tee shot into someone’s backyard, then hit his next attempt into the water, then finally hooked his ball so deep into the woods he’d have met Bambi if he tried to find it.  When his playing partner said to him, “Mike why don’t you use an old ball,” Mike snapped, “Because I’ve never had an old ball.”  Old joke, but well-received and it worked to set the tone for an enjoyable evening.

Keep in mind that Mike Cicak was a guy who, following the birth of our first child, less than two years after we’d gotten to Toledo and I barely knew him, sent me a note of congratulations - accompanied by a check for $1,000 - because John Savage assured him I was a good guy and “one of us.”  This good natured ribbing went on, laughter permeated the room and, after looking over at Bob Fountain, I got a thumbs up.  It was at this time that I turned over the program to our director of athletics, who introduced our new football coach.

Nick Saban, whom I had yet to meet, got up and began saying that, to him, running a football program was a serious matter.  That, although some coaches thought it appropriate to joke around, that coaching was no joking matter to him.  When it became that way, losing would be a certain result ( a cheap shot at the fact our record the previous season was 12-16).  No matter that I wasn’t the head coach, or that I had been asked to “keep the dinner light” with banter and comraderie.  While Saban was ranting - and wowing the boosters with his motivational talk (they were loving this new no- nonsense leader) - Bob Fountain leaned back from is seat at the head table and mouthed the words, “I’m sorry.” 

To this day, I know he had no idea that Nick Saban was going to go into an “alpha dog” rage to make his point.  He got a rousing ovation from the well-lit crowd, hungry for a winning football season.  When I retook the podium, there was a hush, the crowd waiting for my response to this direct personal assault and an intentional, but completely undeserved, beat down.  I have to admit it crossed my mind to let it be known that “You in the audience have just been entertained and worked into a lather by a truly exceptional motivational expert - who also happens to be the biggest self-serving, ‘It’s all about me & I have no problem stepping on whomever is in my way, even if he is just doing what he has been told to do and, by the way, is a person I have never met‘ dirty pool playing scumbag.”  When it comes to a verbal joust, I’m usually prepared for battle.

I also knew that this wasn’t the time nor the place & how foolish would it be to turn a department fundraiser into a civil war.  So, I got up, paused, looke dout over the crowd and said, . . . “YEAH!” like I was as geeked as those in the crowd.  These were my friends and many came up later to ask what I had done to upset our new football coach.  But he backed up his bold words by going 9-2 that season and was beloved by the same fans.

His mantra was that the college game was where he belonged and he envisioned a long career at Toledo.  At the end of that first year, he left to become the defensive coordinator for the Cleveland Browns, saying, in a tear-filled press conference, he never would have left TU - except for the Cleveland Browns.  Maybe this is why ESPN’s Pat Forde subsequently referred to him as a “liar” and Don Shula (someone who also is recognized as a decent coach - and human being - proving the two do not have to be mutually exclusive) couldn’t refute the description of Saban as “a raging fraud.”

This alpha dog mentality carried into that first year.  The offices were situated in a strange way at Toledo’s Savage Hall (named after one of the greatest individuals I’ve ever had the honor of knowing - and someone who, while he wasn’t present at the golf dinner, let me know the following day I should pay no attention to Saban’s ambush because he’s obviously “cut from a different cloth” than others John knew - and respected).  The only entrance to each of our offices were off of a long hallway.  Therefore, when leaving, a visitor would have to walk down the hallway to exit the building.

One of Nick’s favorite ploys was to bring in a football player and read him the riot act in his paper-thin wall office.  When he was through berating the player, the kid would have to make the “walk of shame” down the hall, in front of the secretaries and other coaches’ offices, exacting the very effect Coach Napoleon had desired.

One day, I was summoned to the Big Kahuna’s office, where he informed me he’d heard the basketball staff was breaking NCAA rules and he was not about to be part of a university that was in any way shady.  I leaned forward in the chair opposite his desk and said, “Look, Nick, I don’t know where you heard this - or even if you heard this (making it known that he orchestrated scenarios to enhance his position), but before you make any more statements about cheating, you might want to get (and I brought up the top high school running back prospect in Toledo, a kid who was getting attention from Big Ten and SEC schools) out of Glasstech’s skybox where he’s being fed before your games.  You and I both know that’s a major NCAA violation.  So why don’t you take care of the football program and let us run basketball?” 

I never did find out why he selected me as the person to occur his wrath, but I was anxious to let him know that I saw through him and his self-serving bluster.  Having been at Tennessee, Western Carolina and Washington State before Toledo, I had sensational realtionships with each school’s well-known football coach - Johnny Majors, Bob Waters (maybe the finest coach/person I’ve encountered, whose life was tragically cut short by ALS) and Jim Sweeney, respectively.  I’ve always considered myself a team player as far as being a member of an athletics department staff was concerned, but if he wanted to take off the gloves, so be it.

Later in the day, when he was in that narrow hallway, talking to at a couple of secretaries (who, to his delight, were in complete fear of him), I yelled out, “Hey, Nick, how do you spell your name, with an N or a PR?”  Since it was so unexpected, the secretaries burst out laughing, then quickly tried to stifle their outburst.  Saban stalked back to his office.

Once more before I end this piece, let me say that Nick Saban has been called, arguably the greatest college football coach ever - and I find it extremely difficult to refute that.  He won his one year at Toledo, won at Michigan State, won it all at LSU and is favored to do the same in only his third year at Alabama.  Too bad his personal skills (and I’m not talking about those he has with boosters and fans he cultivates and who fawn all over him) are diametrically opposed to his coaching prowess.

To me, the line that sums up Nick Saban the best comes from Abagail Van Buren:

“The best index to a person’s character is (a) how he treats people who can’t do him any good and (b) how he treats people who can’t fight back.”               Â