Jack’s Blog

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.”

Most people, myself included, read Sports Illustrated for the articles.  At least until the swimsuit edition arrives.  But other than that issue, pictures are secondary (after the first few pages) to the written word.  The last page has become an audition to see which writer comes as close in popularity to the readers as Rick Reilly.  It might be a stretch to compare him to John Wooden but there seems to be no outright favorite yet even though there have been several very good columns.  It seems that there are many Gene Bartows, Gary Cunninghams, Walt Hazzards, Jim Harricks, Steve Lavins and Ben Howlands (most of whom were outstanding coaches) at SI but no one like Coach Wooden.  For my money, there hasn’t even been a Larry Brown yet.

When SI first asked its readers which of a list of sports, other than football, basketball, baseball and possibly a couple others that currently escape my mind (which shows my particular tastes), they had an interest in, e.g. tennis, golf, auto racing, etc. my choices came down to tennis and golf.  It was a tough choice and if I were younger - and still playing tennis - that would have been what I’d have selected.  Since my back issues eliminated playing tennis about a decade ago, I chose golf.  Now I get additional articles on the sport as well as special extra editions.  A good friend of mine is a scratch (or close) golfer so those issues go to him, after I’ve briefly scanned them.

The one on the Masters that just came out intrigued me enough that as I perused it, the article with their panel of (three) experts (and one anonymous pro) caught my eye.  Opinions abound in sports and I’ve found (through experience) it’s always a good idea to hear what others who are deeply involved in a sport or topic think before you start popping off, or even discussing, issues so as not to look foolish.  Although I’ve read some interesting points in the past, little did I think I’d come across as introspective an explanation as Gary Van Sickle’s regarding Rory McElroy’s approach to his profession.  Van Sickle said of the young star:

“He’s not all golf like Tiger was.  Rory is going to take the time to enjoy his life.  He reminds me of Arnold Palmer a little there.  He’ll be streaky great, and he’s got other interests.  He’ll have a better quality of life, and if that means a couple fewer major wins in the long run, that’s all right.”

In addition to expertly defining the differences between the two golfers, the Van Sickle quote speaks volumes to most everybody who has a job.  If you’ve just entered the working world, those are your choices.  How do you approach your profession?  Do you love it so much that it consumes your every waking minute?  In the business world, that type of an employee is called a workaholic.  Those people often find an abundance of material wealth, yet, frequently, there is something missing in their life in another area of it.  In the field of sports, we call them single minded and driven.  Some (most?) people think a person’s life should be balanced.  We all remember the old adage “All work and no play make Jack a dull boy.” 

The times and people (and salaries/purses for sporting events/endorsement deals) have made that quote obsolete.  Now, it’s “get it while you can” and “the window of opportunity is open only so long.”  Maybe not so much in golf where some wise brilliant old golfer had the imagination - or told somebody else - to create a Seniors Tour.  Still, people don’t want to see extraordinary talent not pushed to the ultimate.  Usually parents and agents because 1) nearly all of them weren’t as athletically blessed and 2) they don’t have to do the heavy lifting.

Far too many people have altered the line so that it turned around the original message.  Maybe Rory McElroy has it right but for now it’s become:     

“All work and no play make Jack (or Jill) a champion.”

This blog will be Part I of a two-part blog.  Not surprisingly, Part II will be tomorrow.

For the last ten years of my professional, i.e. working, career, I was employed as a math teacher at Buchanan High School in the Clovis Unified School District.  The job was similar to the first one I ever had - in 1970.

I had just graduated from college.  It was smack in the middle of the Vietnam war and teachers got deferments from the military.  More to the point for me, however, was my goal had always been to be a high school math teacher and football and basketball coach.  Not only was there was a job like that open, it happened to be at my alma mater.  My former football coach was still coaching football and had added the title of director of athletics to his resume.  My former basketball coach was still coaching hoops and, to complete the trifecta, another person on the hiring committee was the teacher who had me for calculus.  Those three, and the principal, whom I did not know, comprised the selection committee.  You could say that was exactly when I realized it’s a good idea to never burn bridges.  I got the offer.  (Note: I graduated on May 4, 1970 and President Nixon took away teacher deferments on May 1 but that’s another story for another blog - and not tomorrow’s.)

After Jerry Tarkanian retired and my family informed me that none of them wanted to move, I (again, through a close friend and colleague) managed to get the job at BHS as a math teacher and the boys basketball coach.  As frequent readers of this blog know, emergency back injury forced me to give up coaching after my third year, so for the next seven years, I taught math.

Mathematics has always been an important subject.  Early in my life I’d hear about how understanding math - better than people from other nations - helped the U.S. get to the moon.  By the time I started at Buchanan, math was one of the main points of emphasis in the educational system.  As it was years before, math - and English - were the subjects our country had fallen behind in when compared to the rest of the world.

I couldn’t believe that during that interim period between my math teaching positions, i.e. the 30 years I spent in college basketball, that our country just allowed so many nations to pass us by.  As one teaching year turned into another, I noticed a distinct difference between my initial foray into the world of educating youngsters compared with what administrators expected and encouraged us to do now.  Of course, I can’t lay all the blame on administrators.  Today’s parents have helped change the culture also.  The problem seems to be rooted in our theory regarding developing our children’s self-esteem.

One difference I noticed (mine is quite a different case because we didn’t get married until nearly 40 and, consequently, my wife and I are a good deal older than most other parents who had kids the same age as ours) was that every participant got a trophy.  Not the better players or those on the winning teams but everybody!  It seemed to me that attitude devalued what the trophy used to stand for.  It was more like the hat.  At the end of the season, every kid got to keep the hat; now, every kid got a trophy, too.

What was the reasoning behind this strange new custom?  It seems someone (or some group who survived the KoolAid) thought it would raise a child’s esteem if each was to receive a “special” award at the end of the season.  Along with this line of (non-competitive) thinking, they (whoever “they” were) felt the child’s self-esteem would suffer if awards were only given to the “star athletes” or “winners.”  After all, isn’t each of God’s children a winner?  Uh, no - not in everything each kid tries.  In younger age groups, teams were not allowed to keep score - although, in every contest, the kids kept score - because all the kids want to know who wins and who loses.

Which is the reason we’re losing.  In math.  In science.  In English, for goodness sakes and that ought to be our strength!  As Thomas Carlyle once said:

“Nothing builds self-esteem and self-confidence like accomplishment.”

Tomorrow: A solution to our self-esteem problem and how to make America more competitive in science and math.

After my fifth back surgery (of ten) forced to give up coaching, I just became another parent in the stands watching his kid play.  Because most people in the crowd knew me, I felt obligated not to act like the parents who attend “How to Be an Overbearing Parent 101.”  That’s why I used to correct math tests of do sudokus during games because, how do I say this diplomatically, the refs tend to err.  Often.

Here’s the condensed version of the aforementioned class.  For free.  What can I say, I’m retired and between pension and social security, I don’t need your money.  Lesson 1: Cheer loudly for the team.  Lesson 2: Yell at the refs - even if you don’t understand all the rules (like there’s no five second closely guarded call in the backcourt).  Lesson 3: If the game is close, talk amongst yourselves about the poor level of coaching - while yelling at the refs.

It was particularly difficult for me since several parents seem to think that once you’re no longer coaching, you feel like they do, i.e. your kid should be playing more (because they all think their kid should be playing more).  And you’re open game for listening to other parents criticizing the current coach because . . . you’re one of them!

I’ve been at games in which parents have been asked to leave the gym, i.e. they got thrown out; where the wife of the coach got into a verbal shouting match with a parent from the opposing team - while she was keeping the scorebook - and one where a father walked out of the stands and demanded his son to get off the court and leave with him.  And the kid refused!  It’s so embarrassing to witness such behavior from alleged grown-ups.

The parent everyone should use as a role model is my main man, C.J. Johnson whose three sons played scholastically at Clovis West.  I’ve known C.J. for over ten years.  Our older son, Andy, played with his older boys, John and Brandon, while our younger son, Alex, played many, many years of summer ball with their “Baby Boy,” Denzel (who’s a returning starter as a sophomore at Santa Clara).  A little history on C.J.  He played football at San Jose State and, . . . it’s too long a story (even for me), but he became best friends with Gary Payton.  So much so that he was Gary’s best man and Gary sent C.J. a world championship ring when they won it in Miami - which made Gary C.J.’s best man - as in the best man he’s ever known.

C.J. never talked behind coaches’ backs (in fact, they all loved him) and refused to yell at officials (the same cannot be said, however, for his wife, Denise, who, otherwise, is a real sweetheart).  During an important summer AAU game (if there is such a thing), our guys were in a back and forth, tense contest in which they got behind with only a few minutes left.  While the other parents were doing their thing, C.J. just yelled out to our guys exactly what they needed to hear:

“Figure it out.”

When you’re teaching (and possibly in other occupational fields), something that you desperately look forward to is that much welcomed “national Monday holiday.”  Now that I’m retired, there’s no such animal as a national holiday.  Everyday is a holiday.  Bummer.  I know, I know, don’t rub it in.

As far as what I do not miss - the teacher, counselor, student and (helicopter) parent(s) meeting.  Actually, I didn’t mind those get togethers because they gave us a chance to tell our side of the story, a side that had never been heard by the overprotective parent.  The following is a copy of (email) dialogue between a young boy’s counselor and me, at the time, his Algebra 1 teacher.  Included are a couple other references to kids who weren’t exactly model students.  It’s a shame these kids take away time from those who take their schoolwork seriously.

Me: What did the charming boy do that you have him in detention all week?  Whatever it was, I know he deserved it.  He’s been nothing but a pain ever since our last meeting.  He’s just that type of kid – the one we hope someday will grow up and realize the way he’s acting is a recipe for disaster.

I’ve been meaning to tell you, you were awesome in Josh’s meeting.  There aren’t too many counselors who will jump a kid’s butt – and that’s exactly what he needed.

Counselor: Thanks.  Alexander (please don’t do what I did and call him Alejandro - even though that’s the name on file - how DARE I!) and his father came in and Dad asked that he be assigned to labs and be accountable for going - so I make up an entire spreadsheet for signatures, a calendar of where and when to go, etc. - does the guy go?  Of course not - so then dad is calling me upset that he isn’t bringing signatures home.  I told him the only real way I’d know where he is would be to assign Detention - so the first day of detention comes and goes and NO ALEXANDER!  He now has two Thursday schools (the next step after detention) in addition to this week’s detention - I did notice that he attended yesterday’s detention.

I’m starting to lose my patience as I get older - I think you and I should collaborate on a book for parents - on PARENTING!!!  It’s sooo scary how much non-parenting goes on - like the fifteen year old girl that was left at home while her parents went to the desert all last week (it was Thanksgiving, right?  Don’t families spend time with their kids during the holidays anymore?) and when the cops called them (Dad is an officer) to say their daughter was having a huge party with alcohol and boys, they got mad at HER and told her to get her A** to her Grandmother’s house any way she could - the Grandma is 75 years old, doesn’t drive and lives approximately 10 miles from her house - and the parents - they proceeded to stay at their vacation destination!  S*C*A*R*Y, huh?

Me: Can’t top that one. But I do have a girl whose parents went through a nasty divorce and are now in an even nastier custody battle.  If you dealt with the girl, you’d think the custody battle would go like “You take her.”  “No, YOU take her!”

Compounding the problem is the mom (a pompous know-it-all) lives in Dallas.  I spoke to her (actually, I listened as she told me how I should be teaching not only her daughter, but the class - because she read a book).  When the dad requested a parent meeting and she found out, she demanded everything about the meeting in writing and that in the future, all meetings had to include her - because she bought a webcam.

Naturally, her email was offensive so I called her (which is exactly why I call parents rather than email them).  Not surprisingly, her tone was a lot sweeter.

If you’re starting to lose your patience as you get “older” (she is about 20 years younger than I am), think of how long ago I lost mine.

And when you get a chance, ask (her boss) about Sarah who was failing at the beginning of the year, then got mono and missed from Oct. 13 until November.  Her parents are begging teachers for grades but when I asked where she was last Monday, I was told me she was so stressed, they kept her home from school!

Not sure how you guys do it.

My final line to her was:

“I’m not sure I want my job but I KNOW I don’t want yours.” 

 

The first day of school has come and gone.  This retirement thing is something I could get the hang of.  I reflected on the past ten years in the classroom - since I didn’t have anything else to do - and most of the thoughts were quite pleasant.  One that bothered me was a run-in I had with our learning director (LD).

Our high school had four learning directors, administrators over academic areas, e.g. one over English & social studies, one over math & science, one over foreign language & the arts, one over PE, special ed & vocational ed.  I’m not sure this is exactly how they were split up but you get the idea.  The district liked to move these people around.  In my ten years, our math department had five LDs.

Naturally, these were different individuals, with different personalities and, in some cases, different personal agendas.  One guy, in particular, started in education as a third grade teacher but, apparently, couldn’t handle the classroom.  So he got into administration.  His personal goal was to move up the “corporate ladder” by kissing up to the powers in the district office (DO).  One of the three main “commandments” of the DO was to make sure the parents didn’t get upset (state test scores and championships - athletics, mock trial, art shows, anything - are the other two).

At my orientation to teaching there were three sessions.  At each one, it was mentioned that “our parents are a very litigious group.”  When I heard it for the third time, I raised my hand and said, “I’m a parent in our district and I’ve never thought of suing anybody.”  The fact is that there is a very small percentage of parents who are looking to litigate.  And the DO is deathly afraid of them.

Just prior to the six-week grading period in my sixth or seventh year, I called the parents of each of the students I had who was failing.  I did so on my back patio on a Sunday afternoon.  At the time my phone kept only the last twelve calls I made.  On Monday our “I’m-on-the-fast-track-to-the-district-office-so-don’t-do-anything-to-sabotage-my-career” LD came into my room and told me the father of one of my students, a freshman girl, had called with a complaint.  The dad said his daughter told him I called their house Saturday night and asked if her parents were home.  When she said no, I kept her on the phone for 45 minutes.

I waited for the punch line.  Did he really think that’s what I did on Saturday nights?  Blew off my wife and two sons so I could call 15-year-old girls?  When I realized he was serious, I told him the real story.  I never call kids’ home phones primarily because I don’t want to talk to them, but to their parents.  The problem in this case was that the message on her father’s cell was that it didn’t accept calls, only made them while the message on her mom’s phone was that it was disconnected.  So I called her home phone and, sure enough, she answered.  I asked if either of her parents were home.  When she said neither was, I said it was Mr. Fertig and . . . my cell phone went dead.

I didn’t call back specifically because I knew the parents weren’t home.  I got my charger and finished the calls.  This girl’s last name started with T.  In front of “Mr. I’ll-throw-you-under-the-bus-without-even-thinking-about-it,” I checked my last twelve calls and, lucky me!, Ms. T’s was number twelve.  In other words, had I made one more call, I wouldn’t have any proof I didn’t call a freshman girl on a Saturday night.  When I showed the proof, i.e. the time of the call was 3:24 pm on Sunday, the LD actually said to me, “That’s good.  Keep that.  It will help if there’s a problem.”

I looked at him and said:

“You know, Darin, if anyone in the district office ever makes a sharp right turn, you’re going to break your nose.”

 

When the subject of paying college athletes comes up, what people really mean is paying football and men’s basketball players.  I completely understand the argument that those two sports are the moneymakers.  And that by giving student-athletes a stipend, possibly illegal payments would be averted.  But that means so little when other factors are taken into account.

One is of a legal nature, i.e. Title IX - which has nothing to do with revenue.  Beyond that, as if the argument need go any further, is that, although people make the statement that kids are being exploited, they talk about institutions selling players’ jerseys (with no income going to the players), ticket sales and television money.

If we break down the revenue, though, it’s the top players whose jerseys sell, it’s the top players fans come to see and TV revenue is due to . . . duh.  Many, including ESPN’s Jay Bilas, contend we need to abandon the notion of college players being “amateurs.”  That might be the case, but paying every scholarship player the same stipend would be just as much of a sham as the situation that currently exists.  Then, again, if the better players got more money because their jerseys sold and more people paid to watch them, aren’t we creating a professional atmosphere?  Is that what we want?

Plus, if one school sold more swag than another, would its athletes receive a greater amount of  money?  Recruiting would take on the look of free agency.  This would change amateurism to professionalism, i.e. colleges would simply morph into a type of minor league.  Not sure that’s an improvement either.

As if that isn’t reason enough to shoot down the proposal of paying athletes, think about how much would each student-athlete receive?  The number $500/month has been mentioned which would mean $4500 for a nine-month school year.  Does anyone think that amount will curtail cheating?  Or are there those who feel parents would then (allegedly) request only $175,500 for their kid’s services?

“Hey, I was born at night, but I wasn’t born LAST night.”

It’s nothing new for players who don’t get the amount of time they think they deserve (and that encompasses most who put on a uni) to be unhappy with their “life on the pine.”  That usually goes double for the parents of said superstar-in-waiting.

When I coached, I fully realized that no coach should want a kid who is content with just a spot on the roster, i.e. someone whose one and only goal is for the team to win.  My reasoning was, if the kid’s ambition is fulfilled with the team winning and it doesn’t bother him if he ever gets in, he might as well be a cheerleader or a fan.  That’s the cheerleader’s of the fan’s purpose in attending the game - to see their team win.  Neither ever expect the coach to walk over and pull them out of the stands for some game action.

This shouldn’t encourage selfish attitudes in the kids who don’t get playing time.  But it does make perfect sense that, while the player wants his (or her) team to win because, after all, they are a part of that team, they want to have a role in the victory.  That’s not selfish; that’s confidence in their ability to be able to help the club when they get their opportunity.

For parents, especially on the high school level, there’s little doubt they root for their child’s team to win - but, and this is a BIG J Lo - what brought them into the arena (whatever that term might encompass) is the fact their offspring is wearing the team’s uniform.  If you doubt that, ask them how many games they went to prior to their kid’s involvement - and how many they plan on showing up for when their kids are out of school.

OK - now that all that is explained, let’s turn our attention to the “how” and “why” of playing time.  In most every situation I’ve encountered through the years, PT is earned.  No coach plays someone whom he or she doesn’t think is going to put the team in the best position to win.  Kids and their parents need to understand that.  A friend of mine recently sent me a hilarious animated cartoon entitled, “My Coach Sucks.”

In it, the “player” is complaining to his friend that he should be playing and no matter what the friend says, e.g. have you talked to your coach, are you getting there early to work on your game, do you work as hard as you can, etc., the baller responds with, “My coach sucks.”

The best line I’ve read about getting the chance to play was in the Sports Illustrated article on Aaron Rodgers after the Super Bowl.  The author wrote of how long it took Rodgers to get his chance, playing behind the legendary Brett Favre.  Rodgers’ reply was one that should be taken to heart by every player (and parent):

“You wait, you keep quiet and you take advantage of an opportunity when it comes.”

When UConn football coach Randy Edsall decided to accept the challenge at the University of Maryland, the athletics department in Storrs found itself in a position of replacing a successful coach.  Most schools hiring a coach do so because the last guy got pink-slipped.  This selection process should have been easier.

When UConn athletics director Jeff Hathaway announced the hiring of Paul Pasqualoni as their new football coach, the choice was certainly newsworthy - but it didn’t generate nearly the publicity that UConn’s foremost booster, Robert Burton, did with the ten-page salvo he directed at the AD.  Give Burton credit for one thing: his letter left no doubt about how he felt.

Reporters and sportswriters who commented on the situation vilified Burton as a pompous, arrogant, selfish, spoiled rich kid.  After reading Burton’s cathartic ramblings, it’s difficult to refute any of those allegations.  Dig a little deeper into the story, though, and there is another lesson to be learned.

In times of financial stress such as these, people with deep pockets are invaluable - as long as they don’t have alligator arms.  According to Burton, he’s given the university over $7 million.  In his letter he said he’d made it clear that he wanted to be included in the hiring process.  Does this kind of “investment” entitle the donor a seat at the table?  Unless the administration has no problem prostituting the selection process, of course it doesn’t.  What it does entitle the person to is respect - in the form of dialogue. 

Even if someone acquired all their money by being in the “Lucky Sperm Club” (membership in which is made possible by picking their parents correctly), their generosity should mandate a certain level of communication.  Leaders who are not aware of that unwritten rule aren’t deserving of the job they have.

Sanctimonious writers are crucifying Burton as an egomaniac who thinks he should be able to dictate policy because he gives more money than anyone else.  Regarding his demand that he wants the school to give back his latest pledge of $3 million, one scribe even said the university should roll up $3 million in dimes and return it to him in that manner.  Cute line.  Maybe the author should try to start doing just that and see how many dimes it takes - and figure out where, exactly, he would locate them.

One thing should be made crystal clear.  This isn’t a guy who said he’d give money if the school hired the person of his choice.  If that was, indeed, the case, why, then, didn’t UConn refuse his earlier massive contributions?  His family’s name had adorned buildings on campus prior to Edsall ’s departure.  I worked at nine Division I institutions and each had their “sugar daddies” - some more high maintenance than others.  Note: I was on the basketball staff at USC when Walter Annenberg donated a total of $365 million to a few selected schools (about a third of which went to SC - the university, not the athletics department) so I fully understand the definition of a “booster.”

A wise move, in dire financial times as these, or even when the economy is booming, would be to reach out to the person in question, if only to politely explain the decision would be made by the university.  To ignore someone who had given as much money as Burton did - and that the school had eagerly accepted - is a slap in the face, independent of how they felt about him personally.  During my time at SC, a football coaching change was made and I’m absolutely certain if Walter Annenberg had requested an audience with those making the decision, his request would have been granted.

More than any other trait, administrators need to have an excellent people skills.  Jeff Hathaway violated the most important one - make people feel important.  And, as anyone in his position ought to know:

“The best way to make someone feel important is to LISTEN!”

Since I have been blogging since April, 2007, I might have posted something similar to this topic in the past.  If so, forgive me, but after this weekend, the subject came up on several occasions so I thought I’d comment on how difficult it is watching your child play after having been a coach for 35 years.

So many thoughts run through your head during the game.  One that doesn’t, because of his coach’s idea that he was going to limit the number of players to 8-9, is the complaint of playing time.  Alex’s team works hard so the guys actually need rest during a game.  The level of play is fairly high, i.e. they enter tournaments with other teams composed of college prospects.  Of course, you want your son to have fun, but there’s a little more to it when you get to this level.  Besides, as long as kids are playing, they’ll usually find a way to have fun.

Wanting your son’s team to win ranks high - one, because it’s natural and two, because as a former coach, you’re still competitive.  The problem here is making comments to referees.  The people who ref aren’t the best in their profession.  They are working for, as my old coach used to say, “blood money.”  In addition, they’re probably men (and, in a few cases, women) who are trying to improve their officiating skills or maybe just people who want to stay involved in the game or give something back to it.  Yelling at referees accomplishes nothing other than making yourself look like a jackass at best and embarrassing your kid at worst - especially if you cause such a scene that you disrupt the game.  I’ve seen parents thrown out of these games - which has to be a mortifying experience for their kids.

Factor in that this level of ball is fairly serious, e.g. play well enough and you could catch the eye of a college coach or a scouting service rep who could write something positive (or negative) about you as a player.  With that in mind, as a former coach, you’re always critiquing your son’s play - not a bad thing at all since one of the purposes of this type of competition is to impress.

This past weekend, Alex’s team (Organized Chaos), made up of players from the California Central Valley, competed extremely well against some of the best teams in the state.  In the opening round, they lost a close contest to the number one seed, Compton Magic, made up of some very highly recruited players.  The loss sent them into the consolation bracket, which they won, beating three teams, all tight ballgames, including the number two team, host Belmont Shores, who was upset in the first round.

At first glance, the contest looked to be a tremendous mismatch.  Belmont Shores was bigger and quicker than our players.  The Central Valley guys hung in there and managed to win 78-75.  Alex led the team in scoring for the weekend, including 21 in the consolation championship game.  Guess what we talked about on the 3 1/2 hour ride home?

There’s a fine line when it comes to being a parent of a young player and trying to “coach” him.  I’m not always sure how to deal with it (or any other aspect of child-rearing) but I read a good quote from a guy named Josh Billings:

“To bring up a child in the way he should go, travel that way yourself once in a while.”Â