Mission Statement

I plan for this blog to serve as a "journal" of sorts. A daily (weekly, monthly) account of the ups and downs of trying to accomplish a life-long dream...to coach in the Final Four

When the blog (and my life) gets further along, maybe it will be interesting enough to show the ins and outs of what it's like as a basketball coach. For now, this is simply a way to keep track of where I want to go, but more importantly, where I've been. Let this first entry serve as an explanation of my goals and why I hold on to them so tightly (a "Mission Statement" if you will...).

I'll start from the beginning...

Growing up I never really liked basketball. Not to say that I hated it or disliked it, I just liked football and baseball much better. Opening an old yearbook from when I was 6 or 7, there was a list of questions and among them was written "When I grow up, I want to be..." and then in some child-like scribbling (that surprisingly looks much like how I write to this day) was written "A football or baseball player". I remember reading this for the first time and feeling a little disappointed with my former self.

Really, 6 year-old Drew?? Baseball? Gonna burst your bubble here and let you know you quit playing after fourth grade. And football only lasted until Middle School. Here was a perfect opportunity to make me look like a prophet and write something like "I want to be a jobless college graduate aspiring to be a college basketball coach." Is that too much to ask?? I won't be too hard on myself, and I'll chalk it up to youth. Especially considering that according to the very next line, my favorite saying was "I want some carrot cake!"

Profound, Drew...profound...

Little did I know that someone would be brought into my life that would set forth a series of events that changed my life as I know it. My mother runs a program in three counties and one city that helps high school drop-outs get their GED. While I was in the third grade, she was finishing the process of moving into a brand new office space that would allow her to expand her outreach. My father was an attorney at the time for a company in Wise County called the Department of Mines, Minerals and Energy. This meant that neither of them could be home immediately after my brother or myself returned from school.

My mother decided to enlist a babysitter to help take care of us until she could return home from work. We went through your ordinary list if suspects, high school girls looking for extra money and responsibility, family friends, etc. Then my mother finally settled on one...Peggy Munsey. Peggy was an African-American lady in her 50s, and you have to understand that growing up in Southwest Virginia, African-American people are hard to come by. I was fortunate in that my parents always taught me equality, and I simply didn't feel there was much difference between herself and my family. Maybe she was just really tan? I didn't know, but more importantly, I didn't care.

Peggy was an EXCELLENT cook. Anything my brother or I wanted she would make it, and she would make it better than anyone else would. One of my earliest memories of her cooking was going home after being at her house for dinner, only to tell my mother when I arrived back home, "Peggy makes good food...you should too." Ouch! Thankfully I was 6. My mother decided to ask me what she made so she could learn to make it like her. The only problem was, I never questioned what exactly it was that she made, I just knew it was good and I ate it. Mom spent HOURS going through our cabinet, showing me different foods to see if I could recognize what it was she made...I couldn't. Finally, mom called Peggy and asked her what it was.

"Cabbage!" Peggy replied.

Being six, I wasn't a fan of vegetables, but with the way Peggy made it, and my trust that she would NEVER try to feed me anything that wasn't laced with sugar, I simply ate and didn't ask questions. Boy did she trick me...

Maybe you're wondering what any of this has to do with basketball. Well, through her cooking, Peggy found a way to my heart. I loved that woman, and trusted her explicitly. So when I came over one night and found her glued to the television set watching a funny sport called basketball, I knew instantly it would be something I would like. She explained to me the rules and how everything was scored. We watched for a long time. It was her favorite team, the Kansas Jayhawks. She talked to me about how much more enjoyable college basketball was, compared to the NBA, since college basketball players "still had a love for the game."

It was from that moment that I wanted to learn as much as I could about the game. Sure, I had seen Michael Jordan on TV, and generally knew of his greatness, but the NBA wasn't where my interest lied. That was reserved for those who truly loved the game.

That Spring, I watched my first Final Four. It was perfect timing, because at that time, the Fab 5 was in its prime at Michigan. I watched in the championship game as Chris Webber called a time-out with 11 seconds remaining, only to realize they were out of time-outs, sealing the game for North Carolina. What a Final Four to cut my teeth on, huh? I was hooked!

Also at this time, I was playing Minor League baseball (not THAT minor league) this was a step-below Little League where you hit off of a pitching machine and then one of the parents pitched to you the last four games of the season. I thought I was on track to becoming a Major League STAR! But I ran into a couple of problems. The biggest problem was that I sucked...horribly. I think I got 3 hits the entire season. But hey, that's OK, I think the pitching machine was using petroleum jelly on the balls...but only when I was up to bat. The other problem was that I had a knack for getting hit in the head by the ball.

The first couple of times I was hit in the head were when I was up to bat and (of course) they were calibrating the machine to pitch in the strike zone so I had to stand in and take a couple pitches. I was hit in the head 3 times by the machine. The fourth came near the end of the year when one of the parents was pitching and obviously saw me as a threat to his sons team, with my .001 batting average and all. So I was beaned in the head again. This wasn't enough to make me quit though, I was tough. I was also a 2nd baseman, and played the position relatively well (relative to the kid on our team allergic to the sun). But during one game a ball was hit to right-center field, and was gathered by our center fielder. I turned to see where the runners were, and at that time the center fielder threw a liner intended for the catcher at home to tag the runner out. The problem here was that my head was directly in-between point A and point B. I blacked out for a second, then left the field.

The next spring I picked up tennis...

I decided I needed to start to play basketball for an official team. I didn't care who. At the time you had three options. The first was to play rec-league basketball and their season had already started. The second was to play for a traveling team called the Rockets, which is who most of my friends played for, but their tryouts had come and passed. The third was an AAU team called Scott County AAU, coached by Tommy Whitley. I knew nothing of it at the time, until one of my good friends told me he was going to the cafeteria to sign up for basketball, and asked if I was signing up too. I said I didn't know about it but he asked me to join him. Thankfully I went and signed up for an AAU team, which was the highest league a fourth-grader could play in. I didn't know the difference (I'm noticing a theme of not knowing a lot of things), I just wanted to play basketball. The next week they held try-outs and there were even kids from outside the county who had come to try out. I thought for sure my friend would make it and that I wouldn't. I was too new to the game, maybe next year. Turned out that I made the squad but my friend didn't, it was a bittersweet moment.

I didn't realize how much I liked it, nor did I realize I was better than I thought. I started all of our games as a power forward, since I was a little taller than most of the kids on the team. We were pretty good for our area, only losing a handful of games, but I longed to play on the same team as the majority of my friends. The next summer Scott Co. AAU dissolved and the Rockets decided to become an official AAU program. They took a couple of the players from the Scott Co. team and I was among them. They asked what number I wanted, and up until that point I had wore the jersey of my boyhood idol, Michael Jordan...

"23" I said.

"I'm sorry, Tyler has already taken that number." The coach replied.

I was in shock, I couldn't think, so I blurted out the next number close to 23 that was still available..."22, I guess"

I fell in love with the number (used it all the way through college) and still use it regularly to this day. My email account is "drewscott22@...." and another blog of mine is entitled "todayinsports22.blogspot" because todayinsports.blogspot was already taken.

I played with that program for the next four years, culminating with our most successful year in which we earned a berth to play in the AAU National Championship Tournament in Memphis, TN. That tournament was a big thrill for me. It was my first taste of basketball on a big stage, and I got to share it with a great group of friends. This taste of big-time basketball was much like your first taste of sugar, or a drug addict's first high. I needed more. I needed to be back. This is where I belong.

The next 5 years were spent playing for the JV and Varsity programs at my high school. I had developed enough to move to Point Guard on the JV, in my 8th grade year. The following Summer I grew from 5'11 to 6'2, and moved over to Shooting Guard. By my Senior year, I was 6'3 and splitting time between Shooting Guard and Small Forward.

My Senior year, we made it to the Championship game of our district tournament. We were playing against the John I. Burton Raiders, a team we had beaten twice before in the season. The gym at Appalachia (neutral host site) was packed. Since we were undefeated in the district and we had dominated for three years, the crowd was mostly anti-Gate City. So when the Raiders came out firing and racked up a 29 point lead (44-15) at halftime, the gym was rocking. I remember making my way to the locker room at the corner of the baseline, only to be bumped in to by some Gate City fans who had seen enough and were going home. Our coach fired us up at halftime and we decided we weren't going to lay down. We owed it to ourselves to come out swinging.

From the very moment the ball was inbounded in the third quarter, we took control of the game. 7 seconds into the half we stole a pass and converted a lay-up and a foul at the other end to get things going. I decided I wasn't going to let my fear of the unknown control my play and started to play well out of my comfort zone. I still vividly remember the last couple of plays in the third quarter. One of my teammates nailed two free throws to pull us within 16 points, with 1:30 left in the third quarter. We get them to turn the ball over on the defensive end, and they were playing a soft zone. I got into a gap at the 3-point line and my teammate delivered a perfect pass and I hurled it up...BANG! Down 13, the Gate City fans (what was left) had come to life...were we really back in this thing?!

Feeling the pressure Burton turned the ball over yet again leading to a fast break, I was in the corner and received a pass, drove baseline and met their 6'8 center. I pump faked once to get him in the air, then shot the ball away from his arms, up and in....Down 11...30 seconds left in the third. The crowd knew if we could get the score to within single digits, we had a real shot at winning. We buckled down and wanted one last defensive stop...."DE-FENSE!" The crowd shouted. We had won over the fans who had were neutral, it was a true comeback story.

The point guard for Burton wanted to dribble the time down and make a play at the end of the quarter. It seemed as though it was just our night, as he dribbled the ball off his foot and I picked it up, he fouled me diving for the loose ball and the crowd went NUTS! We had scored 15 points total in the first half, and were down by almost 30! Here we were, 7 seconds left in the third quarter and now we were only down 11. I inbounded the ball to our star player, and laid back to take a look at the gaps in their defense. They forgot about me and then I sprinted to the 3-point line. My teammate drew the defense to him, then delivered a pass to me...

3...2...1...

It's what every kid dreams of, the ball in your hands with the game hanging in the balance. I would always shoot around on my hoop in the driveway growing up, and just like every other kid in America, I would pretend I had the ball with the clock ticking down. I'd yell it out, "Scott has the ball...3, 2, 1...HE SHOOTS!" It's funny how there was always time put back on the clock if you missed the shot, but that's not the case in real life. In life, many only get one chance at a moment of greatness and if you fail, you can't make up a scenario to give yourself a second try.

Back in the gym, I receive the pass...I feel the pressure I had put on myself as a kid to make that shot as the time runs down. I remember the coaching I had received and quickly went through the shooting check list.

Knees bent...eyes up, looking at the rim...elbow in.

I started my shot.

Push off with my toes...elbow comes up straight through the ball...flick my wrist at the top of my jump and never take my eyes off the rim.

It seemed like forever watching the ball in the air. The gym went perfectly silent. A collective deep breath sucked all the oxygen out of the room. My teammates and coaches on the bench stood up with their hands raised, hoping I would make the shot. Finally, the ball gets to the rim (seemingly an hour later) and SWISH! Nothing but net!

Suddenly I'm a little kid again. Running around in my driveway, hands raised high, playing the part of player/coach/announcer, even the referee. Only this was now reality. You think you know exactly what you'll do in a given situation. I had practiced it my whole life. Should I act like I've done it before and simply go sit and prepare for the fourth quarter? Should I high-five teammates? Should I high-five fans?!? You can't prepare yourself for moments like that, I simply turned and screamed the loudest scream I could muster. All the work I had put into this sport for the better part of ten years, and all the frustration that came with the many times I failed in basketball (as well as life). All the sweat, tears, bruises and broken bones that had gotten me to that point, all came out in one loud yell. In a quiet room, it was the kind of scream that would make you think someone was being murdered. But in that gymnasium, I couldn't even hear the scream myself. I'm not even sure if anything came out of my mouth.

As exciting as it was, we still had a whole quarter to play. Fortunately, our star player, who had been held in check for most of the game, took over during the fourth quarter. He scored 21 points total in the second half, led us to a 77-70 victory and our third straight district championship.

The closing seconds of the game, I was fouled on consecutive possessions and got to shoot free throws to ice the game away. The buzzer sounded and we had won, 77-70. After only scoring 15 points in the first half, we scored 62 points in the second half and completed an amazing comeback. I scored a career-high 28 points and had played all but two minutes of the second half, I was ready to collapse.

I was never seen as one of our better players, I had never been interviewed by the paper after a game. I was a role player who had the game of his life. And when the reporters rushed me after the game I was still catching my breath. My brother held me up and I got out maybe 4 or 5 words. I was too excited, too tired physically and emotionally. Little kids suddenly wanted my autograph (surprise, surprise...it's worth nothing). Classmates wanted to congratulate me, kids from other schools I had never met were suddenly my "best friend from way back."

Just another taste of basketball on a big stage...

I was hooked...again.

There was some talk that some college scouts had seen the game and were going to start recruiting me, whether that was true or not I had already done early admission to Virginia Tech in December and that is where I wanted to be. I was a fourth-generation Hokie, and it's where I always knew I would go to school.

I spent five (read as: "four"...please?) amazing years at Virginia Tech, where I was able to gain experience coaching and playing. For three years, I played and started for the JV Basketball team at VT, and when the coach stepped down my Junior year, some of my teammates wanted me to coach. I wound up coaching the team for my last two years at VT. My time as their coach was invaluable to me, as I was able to form my coaching philosophy and find out what worked and what didn't. I was able to run every aspect of the program; from scheduling, to travel arrangements, to practice and skill development...it was a great experience. I also worked for a year as an assistant coach at Pulaski High School, a job that was made available by my first high school coach, who coached at the school when he was my age. I also worked as a player on the scout team for the women's basketball team at Virginia Tech for four years and made some good connections there with a great group of people. Finally, my last year at VT I worked as a student assistant for a semester, then took the second semester to concentrate on graduating on time...ish

Which brings me to right now. I will coach the 9th grade basketball team this winter at my old high school, and then the plan is to go back to school and get my Master's degree while working as a Graduate Assistant next fall. I will use this blog to update my path to the top. Along the way, I'll post stories I've heard from different people surrounding basketball and any new progress towards my goal. If anyone ever happens upon this blog, I hope you enjoy it. But I want to be clear, this is for me. This is my journey, this is my life.

This is my march to madness...