Year 3: Adversity

Adversity is a mirror. Adversity has a way of letting you know exactly who you are. It reminds you what needs to be changed, removed and retooled. You can’t hide from adversity, it will find you in all aspects of life, not just on the basketball court. Adversity in basketball is most well-recognized on the court, during gameday. Everyone gets to see the struggle each team faces to win the game. But adversity can affect the game before it even happens.

A coach has many responsibilities, and if you have read my blog before, this isn’t a new concept. But sometimes these responsibilities pop up without any ability to prepare for them.

When I first started my new job in September, we had 20 players. Division III allows 18 players on a roster once practice begins, so we knew we would have to cut two of them anyway. The very first day on my job, one of our top players was dismissed from school due to a legal issue. Soon after, another top player from the previous season decided not to return due to health issues. After that, the hits kept coming…

Knee injury to our most talented player, played in 2 games all year…

Player quits due to personal issues…

Player transfers to be closer to family/home…

Player quits due to playing time…

Another casualty due to playing time…

Player transfers for a career opportunity in another field…

3 players booted for violation of team rules…

We gained a player in December who had sat out the first semester due to academic issues, but the damage was done, we were down to 11 players. One of the players had actually quit, then came back when there was more playing time available.

So…

Adversity…

It’s easy to look from the outside at our 4-21 record and think we’re one of the worst programs in the country, but you’d be wrong. This is a team who has faced more adversity than any other I’ve ever been a part of. Those who stayed didn’t ask for this situation. They didn’t ask for their teammates, their family away from home, to quit on them. They didn’t ask for some of their peers to stop coming to the games when they didn’t like the overall result.

What they DID do was fight. Every day in practice, they gave every bit of themselves that we asked of them as coaches. And what happened because of it was they got better…WE got better. The reason it didn’t show in the win/loss column was by the time we started clicking as a unit, we ran into the toughest competition we would face all year. The last half of our season, we faced 8 (out of 12) teams who have won at least 18 games (out of 26), three of which were nationally ranked at some point in the season.

It did show, in a big way, if you were able to watch the games. We led at halftime in 6 of those 12 games, but our lack of depth usually gave way to mental and physical fatigue, and the sheer talent of the other programs were able to take advantage.

It was because of this fight, that I would not trade this year for spending time with any other program instead of Emory & Henry. I grew close to this group of guys. We were the ones taking our lumps each night, growing closer, when the easy thing to do would be to point fingers and blame others.

The most gratifying thing, to me, is seeing the light click in a player’s mind when he realizes “why” you do the things we ask you to do them, and not just “how” to do them. You get to see them grow as basketball players and learn life lessons through the game. Every one of these guys will face adversity after their careers are over. This is not the last time life will deal them a crippling blow. Chances are, it won’t even be the worst case of adversity they’ll face. What you hope for as a coach, though, is that you’ve given them the tools to stand up and deal with that adversity the same way we dealt with it together this year; to stand up and fight; to never point fingers; to never whine and complain about what is wrong, and change it to make it right.

It’s easy to be on the other side. Winning is all I’ve ever known. I made a plan when I started this whole coaching thing to never associate with a losing program. But this year has made me grow more as a coach (and as a man) than I’ve ever done with anyone else.

I needed to lose. I needed to be humbled.

We did. And I was.

You begin to find out that the only way to fight through adversity is to stop re-stating the problem. You have to come to the table with solutions. Everyone knows the problem. Fans can even recognize the problems. But they aren’t paid to come up with the solutions (thank God). That job is left for the coaches.

As a coach you have to take ownership of the losses, and reflect credit for the wins. You take the hit with the media and the fans when you lose, and when you win, you praise the efforts of the players, and the energy of the fans. It’s just how it is, and I accept that, it’s part of the job. I do find it comical how many “answers” come from people outside the program, and how sure they are their idea will work. I don’t look down on them, it’s not their job to fix our problems. They’re doctors, lawyers, accountants, customer service reps, etc. and I couldn’t do their jobs either. But I did get some funny “fixes”

“Why don’t you teach them to shoot free throws better?”

“You should spend more time on defense”

“You should play zone…no one ever scores on a zone”

“Have you tried scoring more points than the other team?”

Ok, so I made that last one up (or did I?). But sometimes I wonder what the general public thinks coaches do all day. Take naps and fart?¹ It’s my job to spend the 24 hours I have each day thinking of ways to make our program better, just as it is your job to make sure your company is more efficient/productive/better/etc. And I’ve taken the steps throughout my life to learn and study from those who have done it the right way to make certain I’m doing my job, at the very least, as good as you’re doing yours.

Coaches will always have critics though, you can’t run from it. You have to embrace it. I don’t know how many times I’ve been put in a verbal headlock by a fan or parent (or my own family) about how to make my team better, and sometimes they do bring up great points, so you can’t discount them all. I’m always reminded, however, of a quote by Teddy Roosevelt…

“It is not the critic who counts: not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles or where the doer of deeds could have done better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood, who strives valiantly, who errs and comes up short again and again, because there is no effort without error or shortcoming, but who knows the great enthusiasms, the great devotions, who spends himself for a worthy cause; who, at the best, knows, in the end, the triumph of high achievement, and who, at the worst, if he fails, at least he fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who knew neither victory nor defeat.”

Don’t be afraid to talk basketball with me (I know…fat chance now, right?). I do enjoy talking basketball at all times of the day. And if you’re particularly bold, I’ll even tell you why it is we do each thing we do and why we prefer that to other methods. Just don’t ever think we sit in the office and throw darts at a wall to come up with a plan. 

I only give you two pieces of advice if you wish to talk about my profession and why we do what we do:

Come with the knowledge that we don't make our decisions lightly. There's long hours of deliberation going into the smallest of decisions.

If you catch me after a loss, may God have mercy on your soul...

I won’t text my own mother back after some losses…ask her…I’m sure she’s reading this (Hi mom! Send $). I take my job seriously, and I treat each loss as a reflection of my abilities or inability to prepare my athletes. I’m not gonna ask anyone to prom on the bus ride home from a loss. (I’m 27…I’m not gonna ask anyone to prom…ever)²

The season is over. It is time to prepare for next year. Gotta get stronger. Gotta get faster. Gotta improve our fundamentals. But one thing we won’t have to teach during the off-season, is how to deal with adversity...

¹ _{– I’ve done both}

² _{– Except Kate Upton…but she isn’t returning my phone calls, texts or tweets… #HerLoss}

Year 3: In the Driver's Seat

One thing you learn as a manager or a graduate assistant is that you are to be seen and not heard. You are there to learn, not implement policy. The head coach doesn't care for your thoughts on some great zone defense or what your ideas are to improve offensive efficiency. He cares more about how well you check classes. He cares about your ideas to improve the efficiency of stuffing mail-outs. (I use the term "care" in the loosest sense imaginable...please, young coaches, don't walk into a meeting and put mail-out reform on the agenda).

You're a fly on the wall. You are there to do the dirty work, what no one else wants to do. You're there to do it for free and to pretend with all your might that you love doing it. What many GA's and managers don't realize is this grunt work helps prepare you for the next step. It helps you become a problem-solver without needing to ask for guidance every step of the way. It's also where you learn. You get to hear the parts of the game that those outside the program never witness. Many people sit on their couches or in the stands and watch a game studying the X's and O's and think they can become great coaches. (I thought so too, before I began). But those people aren't in the "War Room" to hear seasoned basketball minds come together to form a plan for practice, games and goals for the larger view of the season. In order to understand the game of basketball, you need to know the "how" and "why" you do things in certain situations. Watching X's and O's will only give you the "how," and you won't know the "why" without learning from great coaches who can convey that to his players and staff.

I can sit here and tell you a million times that you MUST rotate your point guards back to the top of the key on each offensive shot attempt, but without knowing the why, you're really just going to question whether it's even important. But if I explain to you that without a rotation, it will lead to easy buckets for the opposing team, it becomes a more valuable piece of information. This example is the most basic form of "knowing the why" that I'm talking about, but it conveys the message sufficiently without needing a 500-page entry on the intricacies of the game.

As a graduate assistant you're always along for the ride. You're never in the driver's seat. You don't have the power to implement policy among the staff, and you don't have the clout to change an action by a player. You're not even a back seat driver; you're a baby in a carriage with a pacifier in its mouth. (A baby that changes the flat tires of the car, gets the oil checked, and fills up the gas...but a baby nonetheless).

So when I had the opportunity to become a graduate assistant (for the second time) at a middle-of-the-road low major school or become an assistant on a lower level, I jumped at the chance to hop to the front of the car. I'm ready to configure the engine, tweaking it to the standards I've learned from my time as a passenger. I'm ready to guide the vehicle and maneuver it to get to our destination.

Little did I know, hopping into the driver's seat at a Division 3 school, sometimes means to literally hop into the driver's seat...

Our first scrimmage of the year was planned to be at Concord University in West Virginia. It's about 2 and a half hours away. I had always taken buses or charter buses to away games, so I never thought twice about driving. I was informed the day before that I would be driving a 15-passenger van to the game. (Don't you need a license for that?) I didn't realize until then that I was responsible for 15 players and their safety. My actions behind the wheel have a direct consequence for those who are riding in my van. It was then I longed for the days of being a lowly passenger, being comfortable in having no outcome on the safety of other or how we get to our destination. I thought about how this bus ride is a perfect metaphor for my job this season. I am responsible for the growth of these individuals on our team. I'm responsible for their safety away from home.

5 hours and a scrimmage later, we arrived safely back at Emory & Henry. I let out a sigh of relief. We made it. After a couple minutes reflecting on a safe trip, I began to realize I could do this. I can be responsible for these young adults. I can guide them safely to our destination. I'll be learning as I go, but I have learned from some great bus drivers in my time.

As we travel this road through our season (and my larger road through my career), we will hit many obstacles...twists and turns will make for a bumpy ride. We'll compete against bigger and faster cars, so we'll need to know the course better than them. We'll need to know the how and why, and execute them at each turn. If we can find a way to do so, maybe, just maybe...we'll lead the pack from the driver's seat.

Year 3: Adjusting to Division 3

Coaches tend to have an idea of what their career path looks like ideally. Everyone starts at the bottom. Everyone wants to be a part of a staff at one of the power conferences on the Division 1 level. Well...my path has worked out the opposite way...sort of.

I started on the Division 1 level at an ACC school, one of the best, if not THE best, basketball conferences in the nation. My next job took me to a successful Mid-Major in Ohio. A step down in basketball prestige. My next move brings me to Emory & Henry College, a Division 3 school in Southwest Virginia.

Judging by the schools alone, this would seem to be a demotion. However, I'm still moving up the ladder. Somehow defying the laws of physics and moving forward and backward at the same time. (M.C. Escher would be so proud...#GoogleItIfYaDontKnowIt) I started as a manager, then a Graduate Assistant, and now an Assistant Coach. A step up in the coaching world.

The jump from Graduate Assistant to Assistant Coach is definitely an adjustment, but a move from being Division 1 my whole life down to Division 3 is equally as big of an adjustment.

I walked into the office on my first day, sat down with the head coach and talked about my duties. We met for over half an hour and I left with a long list of things to get done. I sit down at my desk (in an office shared with the Cross Country coach) and in walks an elderly gentleman wanting to talk sports. I do my best to oblige him (no, I don't know who started for Emory & Henry's Badminton team in 1937), but I'm ready to get my work done! I've waited months to get this job! I learned that with such a small school comes a group of alumni who are passionate about their university, and that's a good thing to have...let's just have it on a slow day, huh?

Next item on the agenda? Cutting a piece of string off my new jacket...I need scissors. I ask for a pair of scissors...

It seems on the D3 level, the entire athletic department uses one pair of scissors. And apparently everyone knows who has the scissors on any given day. I'm hoping there is a different policy in place for toilet paper...

In all seriousness I've loved my time here. The staff is young (average age of 27), the mood is relaxed and I genuinely like the kids I'm working with. The amount of responsibility I will have this year will help me grow as a coach and take some ownership of the program. I used the analogy with some people I talked with about taking this job and I talked about how I'm done being a fly on the wall. I'm done listening and learning while staying in the background. I want to affect a change. I want to help turn a program around. These are all opportunities I'll be afforded at Emory & Henry. I might succeed. I might fail, horribly. I might figure out Division 3 isn't all that bad. But all those questions will be answered in time. And I have a lot of time to prepare. For now, I only have one question...

WHERE ARE THOSE FREAKING SCISSORS!?!

Year 3: Rejection and Giving Thanks

"Through my illness I learned rejection. I was written off. That was the moment I thought, Okay, game on. No prisoners. Everybody's going down." - Lance Armstrong


Ah, finally! Year 3...

My plan had always been to stay at the University of Akron for a maximum of two years. Those two years expired in April, and I left Akron for a new challenge. In the winter, I had talked with an assistant coach at VCU about becoming a paid Graduate Assistant with their program. He was open to the idea and promised to talk more in the Spring. Spring rolls around and I continue talking with him and he assures me it shouldn't be a problem. Then it happened...

March rolls around, I give him a call...

No answer...

Texts, calls, voice mails...all unanswered.

Weeks later I get a call from him saying he had taken a job at his alma mater, and essentially my shot at a job now at VCU were slim. I was devastated. I had planned the entire time to be at VCU in the Fall, now I'm unemployed. From that moment, I was one step behind every job I applied for. Even the ones I became a finalist for, I lost out to someone who had built their relationships earlier than I had. I was reeling.

March became April...May...June...July...AUGUST

I honestly begin to re-evaluate my life plan. Should I go back to school and find a new career? The entire summer was one rejection after another. (And not only in my job search either.) I've never known just how humiliating cold-calling basketball offices to beg for a job can be. It was ridiculous. I'm sure they get tons of calls each year from random people looking for jobs, but it's hard being on the other end of that call.

Through the many rejections, I had to turn inward. What am I doing wrong? Why am I not on a staff? I was angry. I was upset. I was hurt. It was purely coincidence that at the same time I began to lose some of the people I cared about the most. Some had to walk out of my life due to circumstance, some did so voluntarily...

At the end of the Summer of Rejection was a light at the end of the tunnel. I met with the basketball staff at King College, and they offered me a job on the spot as an assistant coach. I could recruit, coach, and be a part of a staff. I was relieved. An entire summer's worth of stress, finally lifted from my shoulders. I wanted to accept on the spot, but took some time to think about it.

Days later, an email came from the head coach at Emory & Henry College to come in for an interview. Another interview begat another offer. Suddenly I have options! I weigh the pros and cons for over a week. It will be really hard to tell either staff no. I have decided to make my decision for good tomorrow morning. I will meet with both staffs, let them give their final pitch, then make my decision and start W-O-R-K-I-N-G.

Before I make my decision however, I would like to take some time to give thanks...

Thank you to the programs who told me no:

VCU
Richmond
Randolph-Macon
George Washington
Virginia Tech (my alma mater, no less)
Belmont Abbey
Fishburne Military Academy
East Tennessee State
Old Dominion University
James Madison University

Thank you for giving me some extra fuel to make myself better as a coach and human being. Without the rejection, I would be staring complacency in the face. For that, I give thanks...

Thank you to the 37 programs who never bothered to pick up the phone the multiple times I called, or give a call back. I don't think enough of you to even mention your names. I plan to schedule each of you in my career...

A genuine thank you to the people who have helped me through the process...

Greg Mason - Centre College
Keith Dambrot, Dan Peters, Rick McFadden, Charles Thomas, Terry Weigand - Akron
Jamion Christian - Mount St. Mary's
my high school coaches Scott Vermillion and Greg Ervin
James Johnson and Bill Old - Virginia Tech

A heartfelt thank you to my friends and family who have undoubtedly felt the brunt of my stress during this process. I appreciate the kind words, the input, or just the time away from the job search and making me smile. I will not forget each of you, and you are very important to my journey.

So here's to a new year, in a new town, with a new program. There will be new challenges, making way for new opportunities and new triumphs...

And without a doubt...new rejection...

Year 2: Until I Get There

I’m sure that an overwhelming majority of people who have chased a dream, have had times where they wished they could fast forward to the time where their dream is realized. I am no different. I constantly wish I could be roaming the sidelines, implementing my gameplan. I wish I could be sitting behind my desk, in my corner office, making the major decisions that shape a program. I wonder what it will be like at my first press conference? What will I wear? Hell, what will I SAY?!

Ah, I’ll figure it out when I get there…

For those that don’t know me very well, music is a big part of my life. I’m not musically gifted, but I listen to music constantly. My favorite genre is R&B/Hip-hop, and one of my favorite artists (definitely my favorite rapper) is Lupe Fiasco. I like Lupe not only for his great tracks, but because he is a lyrical genius. His lyrics speak to me, and many times make me stop and think about what I’m doing with my life.

I swear this is relevant…

Lupe has a song off of his most recent album that illustrates my feelings of wishing to be on top. The song is called, “Until I Get There”…

I come from a very small town in rural Southwest Virginia (there isn’t an urban Southwest Virginia). Not a lot of people from the town get to go on and do big things nationally. For a long time I have tried to separate myself from my country roots to get away from the stigma attached to the area I’m from.

If you talk with an accent, you’re perceived as unintelligent. If you come from a small town, you don’t belong in the city. So I distance myself from where I came from, right or wrong.

“I’m just a little old hope with his back against the ropes,

Fightin for his fans, and fightin for his folks,

But the boos from the crowd can become so loud,

If I can block em out, then I can knock em out

And dance around the ring,

But Until then I’ll sing…”

This lyric from Lupe challenges that notion. No matter how many miles I put between myself and where I’m from, I will always be representing them. I will carry them with me wherever I go. I have a lot of friends there. My family is there. And along the way, I’ve picked up a support system who will become the fans that cheer on my teams.

So the odds are against me. I don’t belong in the city. My thick southern accent makes me come off less intelligent. But I’ll fight for my fans, my family, my support system. I’ll fight for kids like me, not only in Southwest Virginia, but from small towns everywhere, who may think that their dream is too big, or that they don’t have the advantages that others may have.

Working as an unpaid graduate assistant, every day is a grind. Whether you’re tracking down 19/20 year-old kids who won’t pick up their phone, because they’re sleeping through class or a team meeting; or you’re stuffing envelopes until your fingers bleed; you begin to wonder if it’s worth it. Is it worth getting disrespected by some athletes because their time is more “valuable” than yours? Is it worth it that the time and effort you put into making their life easier is wasted when they don’t show up?

“Imma keep it cool, Imma do me

It is what it is, and that’s how it’s gonna be

Until I get there…

Until I get there…

Yeah I got flaws, I know I’m not perfect,

But all the ups and downs, will soon be worth it

When I get there…

When I get there…”

Lupe is right, it may not seem to be worth it right now, but it soon will be…I just gotta get there…

In 6^th grade, I had a history teacher who used to always complain when my friends and I would bring basketballs into the classroom. He always told us that there were more important things in life, that no one ever makes it out of the area because of basketball. I’m sure his heart was in the right place in that he wanted us to concentrate on our studies, but the impact it had on me was just the opposite. I couldn’t believe that someone would tell me I wasn’t going to make it…I mean, have you seen my jumper?!

The criticism didn’t end there. With 2 years remaining in college, I decided to break it to my parents that I wanted to pursue coaching. They put on their best supportive face, but you could tell there was a hint of panic in their tone (understandably…I just spent tens of thousands of dollars on a college degree that I’ll never use).

“Well…what is your back-up option, Drew?”

“Uhhh…I don’t have one…”

“How about taking some business courses?”

“Mom, I’m gonna coach…”

Other times, I was chastised that the work I was doing with basketball wasn’t actually work…but rather, I was “playing” all day…don’t hate because my job is fun.

I’d be remiss if I didn’t say that my entire family is now firmly on board the coaching train and they are genuinely proud of the work I’m doing. It just wasn’t always that way.

When I worked for Virginia Tech, I enjoyed a lot of the people there who were on staff. But there were two individuals who made it turn out to be a less than pleasurable experience (for the record, Coach Greenberg couldn’t have been nicer to me). I had a meeting with one of those people after I had been with the team for a while and he told me that coaching wasn’t for me. He told me he thought I should quit. For some reason, I listened to him…I’ve regretted it ever since.

The point is, there have been many instances in my life where I’ve been told straight up that I will not make it in this business. Part of me wants to make it to the top, and then cold call every single one of them to show them what I’ve done…

“And when I finally make it Imma stunt so hard,

Evil as Knievel, Imma jump so far

Way up in the atmosphere, I ain’t comin back

Be a jerk to them jerks,

Yeah, that’ll make em hurt..

Huh?! Says a young boy in the mirror

A young version of me, so I start to tear up

He said you need to cheer up,

Your mind need to clear up

You’re already here,

Just be yourself from here up”

Lupe is talking about looking at yourself in the mirror and getting back to the roots of who you really are. Do I really need to rub it in someone’s face when I make it? Will their pain or embarrassment help further my goals in any way?

The man who caused me to quit my job at Virginia Tech already got a dose of karma…I don’t need to pile on. What I need to do is use their criticism to fuel the fire of making it to the top. Use the cheers of those who want me to succeed, and the jeers of those who don’t. Use them to my advantage, to help better myself on my way up.

“Then he disappeared and I felt something familiar,

Something I was taught, something I had lost…

If you are afraid, a fear that you gonna change some,

All you gotta do is remember where you came from”

Then it hits me…this whole time the song isn’t about waiting until I get there. The song is about realizing that I’m already there. I’m already starting to realize my goal. I came from nothing. A podunk town in Podunk, VA. And now I’m with a program that is on top of our conference and one of the better teams in the nation. If I keep waiting until I’m at the top, I’ll never appreciate the ride. And the ride is the majority of the battle. The everyday grind to make it in this business. What I do now clears the way for who I’ll be in the future.

Hopefully the man I will be “when I get there,” is appreciative of what I’m doing now, and where I’ve come from…

I know I’ve got flaws, yeah I’m not perfect…but all the ups and downs, will soon be worth it…when I get there…when I get there

Year 2: Wins and Losses, Success and Failure

It was my first trip to Cleveland. I had lived in Akron for two years, less than 45 minutes from Cleveland, and had yet to make the trip there. The Mid-American Conference (MAC) tournament is held in Cleveland, and the previous year my grandfather on my mother’s side had died and I was at home in Virginia for the funeral, so I missed the trip.

This year’s feeling going into the tournament was much different than that of last year. Last year we had to win 4 games in 5 days to win the conference championship, having finished outside the top 4 in the conference. This year, due to a restructuring of the conference tournament and our regular season conference championship, we only had to win 2 games to get to the Big Dance.

I don’t think there are many people around the program who would disagree with the notion that this year’s team was more talented than the one we had last year, but the team obviously had their own demons to deal with. The team was incredibly young, and with that comes problems that stem from not being mentally tough enough to push through difficult parts of practices/games/seasons. Some of them didn’t want to deal with the daily grind that the latter stages of a season are. Admittedly, it is pretty tough to deal with if you haven’t had to do it before.

Regardless, we were much more talented and there was not a single game this season where I felt overmatched athletically or less skilled than our opponents. Two games and we’re in! We can do this!

Our first game came against our neighbor and arch-rival, Kent State. We came in with a measure of confidence, as we had beaten Kent State 4 out of the last 5 times we had played, including last year’s MAC Championship game. The game was tough, as Kent State is pretty talented themselves, but we controlled the game for the most part, finally winning 78-74 after thwarting a comeback attempt by the Flashes.

The championship game, Akron’s sixth in a row (a feat only Gonzaga can also claim), was to be a match-up against Ohio University. We were less confident coming into this one, having suffered a 24-point loss to the Bobcats at their place 4 games prior. Nevertheless, this was a shot at some revenge as well as a berth in the NCAA Tournament and another conference championship.

The game proved to be a heavyweight shootout, with Ohio dealing a knockout blow when D.J. Cooper hit a leaning 3-pointer as the shot clock expired from NBA 3-point range. It was just their night. We cut it close and thought we had tied the game when the ref ruled a free throw had been goaltended, only to overturn it after going to the monitors (STILL don’t think that’s legal).

That was it. A 1-point loss…1 point away from achieving our season-long goal. If one basket more had fallen for us, if we had made two more free throws, if we had gotten one more stop defensively, we’d be dancing. I never noticed how much 1 point can change your demeanor and the type of weekend I’ll have. I had made plans to go out in Cleveland and celebrate. We planned to live it up and not go home til the next morning…

I grabbed my bags immediately following the game and left the hotel. The 45 minutes home was the quietest my car has ever been…no music, no cell phone conversations, nothing but silence. It hurt the next day to watch 68 names called for the NCAA Tournament and Akron not be one of them. We were so close, but not even an afterthought to the general public because we didn’t make it.

To make matters worse, Ohio went on to beat their first two opponents and move on to the Sweet Sixteen. John Groce, the head coach at Ohio, parlayed that success into landing the head coaching job at Illinois. If we make one more shot, Groce is sitting in his office in Athens right now, and Illinois is still searching for a new coach.

One basket, one stop…

This goes to show that the margin between success and failure is miniscule. This is as true in life as it is in basketball. The difference is just that the notion of “success” in basketball can be measured to a certain degree, with wins and losses. It’s much harder to measure a win or a loss in our daily lives.

I sulked for a couple days, as I’m sure our players did the same. However, we had to regroup. Our regular season conference championship meant we got an automatic berth in the NIT. We were selected to play in Chicago against Northwestern. We didn’t have a lot of time to regroup, we were selected to play on Sunday night, and we flew out to Chicago on Monday, and played Tuesday night. We battled well in that game, but ultimately lost another close one and our season was over.

After the loss to Northwestern, I refused to sulk anymore. We had a great year, we won 22 games and won the conference championship in the regular season, which less than 10% of college basketball teams can claim this season. I’ve been a part of a conference tournament title and a regular season title in my time here, and I refuse to treat that as a “loss” on my journey.

The loss to Northwestern marked an end to my time in Akron. It was tough to say bye to everyone, I had made a lot of good friends over the course of my stay there. I looked up to each of the coaches on the staff there as well, they were all positive influences that I hope will become lifelong friends.

I’m looking forward to my next challenge however, and I’m working a couple different angles to achieve that opportunity. I’m sure in my next update I will be able to elaborate on where I will be and what that means in my journey.

This chapter has come to an end, but it certainly isn’t the end of my book. My story is much closer to the hard cover on the left than the right. I’ve had a great start though. I got to learn from a great coach in a great city with some great players.

I’ll look back when I’m done with my career with fondness, but for now I can’t afford not to look forward and prepare myself for what’s next…

Year 2: External Factors

Before each season, fans, sports writers, alumni, and even coaches, look at rosters and schedules, trying to get a sense of what the year to come will be like. You look at how many returning players you have. You look at your depth (or lackthereof) at all five positions. You look at the schedule and how difficult it will be to navigate, desperately searching for positive signs that a good season may be in order.

What many don’t realize until after the season are the external factors that cannot be accounted for, many of which have nothing to do with basketball. It would be pretty sobering to look at a roster and try to project how many players will be declared academically ineligible. How many players will transfer out? How many players will get arrested?!?

After you’ve been around basketball as much as many coaches in the business have, you begin to prepare for and sometimes even expect these things to happen. But some things can still catch you by surprise.

Tuesday morning I left for work with a runny nose, went about my day, got some work done in the office and prepared to leave for home around 6pm after class checks. All at once, it seemed as though I kept feeling weaker and weaker, hotter and hotter. My chest and nose were both congested and I felt like death. I loaded up on medicine and headed home to bed. The next morning I texted one of my co-workers to let him know I wouldn’t be coming in to work due to illness…

“You’re sick too?” he replied…

I spent the majority of that day close enough to the bathroom for the times when my nausea would get the best of me. As I found out later, so did a staggering number of others associated with the team. A week later, the total count has come to 11 people falling victim to flu-like symptoms.

This past weekend, we traveled to Athens, OH to take on Ohio University. A win there would mean we clinched the conference regular season championship. It was a big game for us, and for them too. It was their “Senior Night,” they started a campaign for a “Green Out” in which everyone was instructed to wear green. The game was nationally televised on ESPN. The stakes were high.

We were pretty confident coming in. We were 12-1 in the conference, had already beaten Ohio by 17 at home, and were riding a 9-game conference winning streak heading into the game in Athens.

By this time, the worst of my sickness had subsided. I still had some congestion and a runny nose that wouldn’t quit. But some others were just beginning their cycle of flu. A couple coaches had to drive separate from the team bus due to being sick, others couldn’t eat team meals because of the nausea. We were unprepared for the sickness making its way through the program.

I may have to double check, but I don’t think “overconfident” or “unprepared” were one of the pillars to John Wooden’s Pyramid of Success. It seemed as though our counterparts, however, were very focused, driven, and put themselves and their teammates in positions to be successful. They jumped on us early and never let up. The crowd was WILD! They were organized, loud and didn’t quit, even when their team went up by as many as 30 points.

Walking out of the gym that night, I remember thinking that I felt worse after a 24 point drubbing, than I ever did at any point of having the flu.

Ohio U is worse than the flu…

I hated their fans immediately after the game. I wanted to line them up and punch every single one of them. They said some of the most disgusting and hate-filled drivel that I’ve ever come across in my years around basketball. Two days later, though, I’ve grown to appreciate what they did.

They dominated our team well before the game even began. A group of 20 of them began berating one of our players because of how he was stretching. Making many references I’m sure their mother’s didn’t teach them. They were in our heads from the get-go. They were loud when they needed to be, they picked their team up when they needed it, and they were even pretty funny at times. If the game had been close at all, it would have been difficult to pull out the win in that atmosphere, regardless.

The fans, who are many times seen as entities that don’t affect the outcome of games, really opened my eyes to how they can play a huge part in helping their team win. It’s something that is difficult to prepare for, you just have to experience it.

External factors are rarely thought about in the preseason, but can be the difference between a successful and unsuccessful season…