Jack’s Blog

After a meeting at Stanford increasing meds, followed by a session at physical therapy at SPOC (Fresno residents will know), I don’t have the energy for an original blog - or at least my two cents on the NFL replacement refs.  Here’s a blog from 1/29/08 that still makes sense:

Which is better?  Just like in ordering food, buying clothes or selecting (or choosing not to select) a fitness program, it all depends on the individual.  What makes a person feel most comfortable is usually the right choice.  However, how that choice affects others is of major concern.  People who keep their outlook to themselves seldom hurt (or influence) others, but when someone goes public, whether to a large group or a single individual, the remark or speech can brighten or dampen the mood of the receiver(s).

I’m a bit of a satirist (the way I describe my humor) or sarcastic (the way some others, especially those lacking a similar disposition to mine, describe it).  I make comments that some (or most, as I like to think) people find ranging from rather amusing to downright hilarious (because I try to direct my humor in at a general situation as opposed to at specific individual - although I must admit there are some blatantly easy and, seemingly willing, targets out there) .  Anyone with a quick wit will, over the course of a lifetime, relationship, school year, etc., say something that might offend someone (especially if that person prides themselves on how serious they take life). Many of those times the offender wishes the quip hadn’t come out that way (or, simply, hadn’t come out at all), but as Bob Haldeman said to John Dean, “Once the toothpaste is out of the tube, it’s tough to get it back in.”  It’s the risk a satirist (I’ll choose that term) takes, rather than to allow a meeting, discussion or conversation to wallow in interminable, yet serious, boredom.

There’s a story the late Jim Valvano told about being invited to the White House after he coached N.C. State to the National Championship.  He told his mother about the invitation and, not being a big sports fan, she said, “Why, what did you do wrong?”  Jim said, “No, ma, it’s an honor because we won,” to which she warned him, “Just don’t do anything to embarrass our family.” 

The day of the meeting arrived and as they were waiting for the photo op, then-President Ronald Reagan turns to Jim and asks, “By the way, coach, is your name pronounced Val-vaa-no or Val-vay-no?”  “V” says, it’s “Val-vaa-no, Mr. President.”  After a pause, he looks at the president and says,  “And is yours Ree-gan or Ray-gan.”  As soon as he said it, he screamed out, “I’m sorry, ma!“  Probably apocryphal, but still vintage Valvano and, in the case of his mom, a lady who knew her son, i.e. a realist. 

Also, two people can make the same statement, but it may be viewed it in an entirely different manner.  If Eli Manning says the Giants will win the Super Bowl, people will call him an optimist (or some other terms my wife refuses to allow me to print here).  If Tom Brady makes the same statement regarding his team, people think he’s just being realistic.  (Remember, this blog is 4 years old).

So, when it comes to optimism versus pessimism, James Cabell made a statement that captures the essence of the debate perfectly:

“The optimist proclaims that we live in the best of all possible worlds.  The pessimist fears that this is true.”

Everybody is chiming in on which is better, the guys who took gold yesterday or the original Dream Team.  As with most comparisons with teams and players from different generations, there’s no definitive answer nor any conclusion that will be agreed upon.  But it does make for interesting conversation.  So, here’s my take.

The originals were made up of eleven future Hall-of-Famers, 100% of the squad except for Christian Laettner who was added because the “committee” thought the colleges should have a representative.  That’s a pretty strong reason to end the discussion.  While the latest Team USA certainly has some future HOFers, there’s no way that number will reach eleven.

Undoubtedly, the current team faced greater competition than the guys in ‘92.  The teams “competing” in 1992 were more like fans, posing for pictures and asking for autographs before and after games.  This year’s opponents had legitimate NBA talent, players who perform better for their own countries than they do for their NBA team because their “The Man” and can play looser, with greater confidence.  Juan Carlos Navarro’s performance (at least the first half) could be exhibit 1.

The evidence of how dominant the Dream Team was can be found in head coach Chuck Daly’s goal: not to call a time out.  He admitted that, in the gold medal game, he was tempted to call one, but decided against it.  Talent took over and there was no need for a TO.

Looking at talent comparison, each squad has sensational players.  Point guards, wings, power forwards match up well.  The main difference is at the center position.  While Tyson Chandler is a defensive stopper and erases mistakes, he’s no match for either Patrick Ewing nor David Robinson.  It’s not exactly revolutionary but I think it’s enough to give the nod to the elders.

When it comes to comparing different eras, the actual players have their own ideas.  It’s like one of the 1960 Olympic team members (at that time considered the best ever) said to Michael Jordan about the outcome if their two teams ever competed:

“We’d kick your ass.”

Which finals coach has the make up of a champion?  Neither Rick Carlisle nor Erik Spoelstra has been to the mountaintop of coaching.  How can they be evaluated then?  The following is a blog from last June.  Does it shed light on which guy will be hoisting the Larry O’Brien trophy?  Decide for yourself.

Much has been made of the fact that in the last 20 years, only six coaches have claimed the NBA championship (neither of this year’s contestants are a member of that group).  So what ingredients go into making a championship basketball coach on the professional level?

Great player?  Doubtful (Carlisle was the better player but neither would be considered great).  There have been many more great players who’ve tried their hand at coaching and haven’t won than those who have. Of the six latest NBA championship coaches, Rudy Tomjanovich would probably rank as the best player, with Gregg Popovich being at the bottom of the list skill-wise (Doc Rivers, Pat Riley, Phil Jackson and Larry Brown are the others who’ve won titles in the NBA since 1990).  Moot point this year.

As far as coaching in the college ranks prior to taking on an NBA job, only Pop and Brown had done so, Larry having a great deal more success (winning an NCAA title with Kansas) than Pop (who struggled mightily at Pomona-Pitzer).  If I’m not mistaken, of all the coaches who’ve ever won an NBA championship, only Chuck Daly, Jack Ramsey, Dick Motta, Paul Westhead and Bill Fitch were collegiate head coaches before going on to win an NBA title.  Once again, non-factor.

In fact, there doesn’t seem to be any blueprint for NBA coaching success other than the obvious: having a whole lotta talent (advantage Spoelstra).  But even with that, a championship isn’t guaranteed.  Within the past two decades, communication has become of vital importance in leading any type of organization.  The authoritative mentality, e.g. “He treats us all the same - like dogs” used so successfully by Vince Lombardi would meet with resistance (probably to a man) now, unlike in the heyday of the Packers.  Neither fits the bill.

The one common denominator each of those championship coaches had was a very focused leader on the floor, one who commanded the respect of his teammates.  At the risk of upsetting some, let’s say these leaders are named Dirk Nowitzki and Dwyane Wade.  Of course they all possessed overwhelming talent, but beyond that, each superstar had his own style of leading, some more vocal than others, but each displaying one common theme - leading by example (put each in that category).  From MJ to Hakeem to David Robinson and Tim Duncan to Kobe and Shaq (granted, it was difficult to follow Shaq’s example - he, among all of these guys, could truly be categorized as unique) to Chauncey Billups and Rip Hamilton to KG, they were comfortable in their roles as the go-to guy and were, for the most part, players who set good examples.

So, to make one of the greatest understatements of all-time, it seems like the coach isn’t nearly as valuable as the best player (much more apparent this year).  As long as that player doesn’t flaunt his power. In all, acceptance of leadership is what’s necessary for a championship club (and this year - THAT could be the key) and in the words of Nathaniel Branden:

“Accepting does not necessarily mean ‘liking,’ ‘enjoying,’ or ‘condoning.’ I can accept what is - and be determined to evolve from there.”

Much has been made of the fact that in the last 20 years, only six coaches have claimed the NBA championship.  So what ingredients go into making a championship basketball coach on the professional level?

Great player?  Doubtful.  There have been many more great players who’ve tried their hand at coaching and haven’t won than those who have.  Of the six latest NBA championship coaches, Rudy Tomjanovich would probably rank as the best player, with Gregg Popovich being at the bottom of the list skill-wise (Doc Rivers, Pat Riley, Phil Jackson and Larry Brown are the others who’ve won titles in the NBA since 1990).

As far as coaching in the college ranks prior to taking on an NBA job, only Pop and Brown had done so, Larry having a great deal more success (winning an NCAA title with Kansas) than Pop (who struggled mightily at Pomona-Pitzer).  If I’m not mistaken, of all the coaches who’ve ever won an NBA championship, only Chuck Daly, Jack Ramsey, Dick Motta, Paul Westhead and Bill Fitch were collegiate head coaches before going on to win an NBA title. 

In fact, there doesn’t seem to be any blueprint for NBA coaching success other than the obvious: having a whole lotta talent.  And even with that, a championship isn’t guaranteed.  Within the past two decades, communication has become of vital importance in leading any type of organization.  The authoritative mentality, e.g. “He treats us all the same - like dogs” used so successfully by Vince Lombardi would meet with resistance (probably to a man) now, unlike in the heyday of the Packers.

The one common denominator each of those championship coaches had was a very focused leader on the floor, one who commanded the respect of his teammates.  Of course they all possessed overwhelming talent, but beyond that, each superstar had his own style of leading, some more vocal than others, but each displaying one common theme - leading by example.  From MJ to Hakeem to David Robinson and Tim Duncan to Kobe and Shaq (granted, it was difficult to follow Shaq’s example - he, among all of these guys, could truly be categorized as unique) to Chauncey Billups and Rip Hamilton to D Wade to KG, they were comfortable in their roles as the go-to guy and were, for the most part, players who set good examples.

So, to make one of the greatest understatements of all-time, it seems like the coach isn’t nearly as valuable as the best player.  As long as that player doesn’t flaunt the obvious.  In all, acceptance of leadership is what’s necessary for a championship club and in the words of Nathaniel Branden:

“Accepting does not necessarily mean ‘liking,’ ‘enjoying,’ or ‘condoning.’  I can accept what is - and be determined to evolve from there.” �

On last night’s Lakers-Bulls telecast, they showed the “retired jersey” of Phil Jackson in the rafters at the United Center.  As always is the case, mention was made of Phil winning all those rings but . . . how he always had great players.  First, Michael & Scottie, then Shaq & Kobe and then Kobe and the cast of characters from last year’s team (with the emphasis on Kobe). 

It seems Phil Jackson’s championships can’t be mentioned without someone bringing up the “Yeah, but he had great players” line.  While it is true, there have been many coaches with great players who have failed to win championships - at all levels (remember the Phi Slamma Jamma Houston Cougars of Guy Lewis)?  It takes more than just great players.  And the way championships are won differ with the different personalities of the coaches who lead those talented squads.

There’s Phil and his Zen approach.  Imagine getting NBA players to understand Zen, much less embrace it?  There was a story of how he tried it on one of his early championship Bulls’ teams.  He told the guys to sit quietly and close their eyes.  The legend goes that a few (or more) of the players peeked - and saw Michael Jordan sitting with his eyes closed - and that sealed the deal.  Moral: Get your best player to buy into your philosophy and the others fall right into line.

Doc Rivers coached a team put together by Danny Ainge (with help from his best friend, Kevin McHale) which initially had perennial all-star, but perennial also ran (as far as his team went), Paul Pierce.  Ainge added Ray Allen, one of the best shooters in NBA history (and in case you haven’t noticed, scoring is more important in basketball than any other team sport) and superstar, but also mired on a mediocre team, Kevin Garnett.

Doc knew he had an abundance of talent, but none of these guys had ever won.  He came up with the rallying cry/mantra, “Ubuntu” which (some thought meant “Help me, I’m in my contract year”), but actually, according to none other than Nelson Mandela, meant a concept made up of traits like unselfishness, caring and enabling others.  They rode it to a championship, to the point that when many of the Celtics were asked what their championship secret was, they claimed, “Ubuntu.”  That’s buying in.

Speaking of the Celtics, Red Auerbach had his run of championship after championship.  Bill Russell wound up with more rings than fingers.  What Red did was clever.  He made everybody else hate him, thus taking all the pressure off his guys.  It’s not like he had a bunch of slouches, but the shenanigans he pulled at the old Boston Garden (dead spots in the floor, turning up the heat in the visitor’s locker room, no hot water, and the piece de resistance - the victory cigar).  Plus, he did subtle things, like going to Big Russ and telling him not to pay attention when he yelled at him in practice, but if the rest of the players saw Russell getting an earful, they’d have no right to complain when Red jumped their cases.

The master of massaging egos (and in the NBA, there’s no shortage of that commodity) was the late Chuck Daly.  He took a team and gave it an image.  The “Bad Boys” aka the Detroit Pistons won back-to-back championships with nasty (dirty?) Bill Laimbeer; tough guy Rick Mahorn; bordering on lunatic, Dennis Rodman; if-you-need-a-score, call-me, Vinny Johnson; classy Joe Dumars (how did someone so respected, with so much class become a - vital - part of this team?) and Mr. Hidden Agenda, Isiah Thomas. 

I was working at the University of Toledo (less than an hour from Detroit) during those championship years and a little known fact is that the Pistons’ owner, Bill Davidson, made his early (and big) money in glass - and Toledo was known as the Glass Capital of the World.  We’d get choice seats (Mr. Davidson’s own - right behind the basket at the Pistons end of the floor) because there were many people in Toledo who were quite friendly with Mr. D. 

One of his confidantes told me a story that was not allowed to be leaked (so how did I find out)?  Mr. Davidson was so fond of Thomas that he pledged to him a million dollar bonus if the team won a championship.  Imagine what that kind of dissent that would have caused if it got out.

That’s how good Chuck Daly was.  Because he knew and, yet, had the ability to mold this apparent group of misfits into not one, but two championship teams.  His main strength was that he possessed so little ego.  Winning was his goal and he focused on working individually with each player on the team. 

Many people have said he knew how to handle players, but as Wilt Chamberlain told his new coach, Alex Hannum, when the coach said to the Big Dipper, “I heard you’re hard to handle.”

“You don’t handle people.  You handle animals,” said the player who caused more rule changes than any other in the history of the game.  Talk about making a statement early in a relationship.

When it comes to winning championships, sure, great players are needed, but as the late & great coach Chuck Daly (coach of the Original Dream Team - talk about egos!) said:

“It’s harder to take a group of really talented players and make them a championship team than it is to take a group of average guys and make them competitive.” 

  �

Chuck Daly, the Hall-of-Fame coach of the back-to-back NBA World Champion Detroit Pistons (aka the “Bad Boys”) and the coach of the 1992 Olympic Gold Medalists (aka the original “Dream Team”), died yesterday.  I had the honor of meeting Chuck during the 1972-73 season when he was the head coach at the University of Pennsylvania and I had just entered the world of intercollegiate coaching as a graduate assistant at the University of Vermont.  It was very brief encounter, so when I saw him the next time, I certainly didn’t expect him to remember me. 

The year was 1976 and the site was the campus of the college at which I was employed, Robert Morris College.  RMC also happened to be the home of “Five-Star West,” a summer basketball camp for high school kids who hoped to earn scholarships or, if they were good enough, intended to show the school they wanted to attend how good they were.  A major selling point for the camp was its famous list of guest speakers. 

One of the original Five-Star clinicians was Chuck Daly.  I was introduced to Chuck (again) and when he shook hands, I reminded him of our first meeting a few years back when I was working at the University of Vermont.  “Oh yeah, I remember, you were with Pete,” he said, referring to our head coach, Peter Salzberg.  I had just turned 28, Robert Morris College was my first full-time assistant job (after two years as a high school coach and four years as a grad assistant - at three colleges) and I had made such an impression on Chuck Daly that he remembered me!

All that sacrifice (especially on the monetary side - I had made a combined total of $8,200 - the past four years) was all paying off.  The truth of the matter was that Chuck was the head coach at Penn and, prior to being named head coach at UVM, Peter had been an assistant at Columbia, both schools being members of the Ivy League, at a time when all the coaches in a league knew, and usually were friendly with, all of the other coaches in the league.  Chuck knew Peter was the head coach at Vermont and made an educated guess.

But that was the beauty of Chuck Daly.  He made you feel as though he not only knew you, but that he was truly glad to know you.  In the late 1980’s, I was associate head coach at the University of Toledo, a 45 minute to an hour drive to Detroit.  Because Detroit was so close, and our head coach, Jay Eck, had previously worked at Bradley for one of Chuck’s assistants, Dick Versace, our TU staff used to make an annual trip to the Pistons’ training camp in Windsor, Ontario to watch their preseason workouts.

Every time I was in Chuck’s company, he would be engaging and always asked some kind of question to show an interest in what was going on in my life, e.g. “Did you guys have a good recruiting class?” or “Do you have a family?” or “How’s the MAC (our conference) look this year?”  He made you feel, without getting too psychological, like you mattered.

Whenever he was asked about his success in coaching, his answer was in general terms, not in what he did or strategies he invented or perfected.  One of his quotes regarding coaching in the NBA was, “The NBA is a “players” league.  The players allow you to coach them and when they stop allowing you to coach them, it’s time for you to move on.”

One incident I distinctly remember was a ritual the Pistons had.  It was their timed mile run.  The “mandatory” time  the players had was , I think, 5:00 for perimeter players (or guards) and 5:30 for the posts or (or big guys).  Some of their guys - Joe Dumars, Isiah Thomas, Vinnie Johnson, John Salley, had no problem making the time, but Bill Laimbeer couldn’t come close - and didn’t seem too bothered by it.  One year we attended, the guards finished the run, and went back to run with the big guy, exhorting him on. 

Laimbeer was up to the challenge.  He really wanted to make that time.  So, . . . he cut across the track - and sprinted the last three steps.  His teammates cheered.  As everybody was heading back to the practice facilty, I happened to be walking behind their coaching staff and one of Chuck’s assistants seemed pretty upset about the physical condition Laimbeer was in and how he had just made a mockery out of a team drill.  Chuck looked at his lieutenant, smiled and said, “I’ll deal with Lam.”

Another of Chuck’s traits was he was the eternal pessimist.  Once asked why he wasn’t an optimist, his reply was “A pessimist is an optimist . . . with experience.”  Knowing how he always expected, or at least planned for, the worst, it was remarkable that he revealed (of course, it wasn’t until the Olympics were finished and they’d won the Gold) his goal for the Games: not to call a time out.  Asked if he ever considered wavering, he admitted there was an instance in one game when the opposition had cut the lead and he normally would have taken one to stop the momentum, but he said to himself something to the effect, “If I can’t win with Michael Jordan, Magic Johnson, Larry Bird, Patrick Ewing, Karl Malone, John Stockton, David Robinson, . . . I have greater problems than can be fixed with a time out.”

The part of this blog that may upset many (although I know it wouldn’t upset Chuck - in fact I’m certain he’d be pleased with it) is ever since 1995 (when I started working for him), I’ve thought numerous times how alike Chuck Daly and Jerry Tarkanian are.

Both have amazing people skills, leaving those they meet feeling important.  Obviously, each was a huge winner throughout their respective careers.  Each one coached in a way that let the people they coached be themselves.  This is where all the anti-Tark’s will jump up and say, “Tark coached in college where there are rules and kids need to held accountable.”  There’s some validity to that.  Where Jerry was crucified for having Avondre Jones, he of samuri sword fame, on the team, Chuck wasn’t attached to any of Dennis Rodman’s craziness because Jones was a college kid, where Rodman was an adult.  Try saying that with a straight face.

My point is that the two of them each possessed the ability to connect with people in their profession, be they the players who performed for them, the other coaches in the sport or the fans.  The other similarity they shared is what my friend, mentor and former boss, George Raveling, used to say quite often:

“You can get a lot done in coaching if you don’t let your ego get in the way.”�