BrokenCowboy: Sports Views with a West Coast Bias

March 8, 2004 • Lindbergh vs. Hoover

We lost. As it turned out, Hoover was not as good as I feared, so they didn’t blow us out of the gym. In fact, we played them to an 8-8 score over the first half of the first quarter, with Roman, DiMarrie, Kenneth, Roman, and Damon each contributing a basket. We were also playing well defensively and limiting them to one shot per possession, but everything changed in a flash. After they scored their third or fourth basket, they suddenly hit us with a full-court press. Anticipating this, we had worked hard at a press-break during our last two practices, but we were still taken by surprize. Instead of passing around the press, we first tried dribbling around it and then passing into it. Neither approach worked; after four quick turnovers we were suddenly down 18-9 at the end of the quarter.

Down, but not out. We started the second quarter with a renewed commitment to playing defense and boxing out and battled to a six-six tie, keeping the deficit at nine as we headed to half-time. We played well in the third quarter, but still lost a bit of ground as Hoover’s lead swelled to 35-24. With the possibility of having our season come to an end in eight minutes, we opened the fourth quarter with a press of our own. Hoover didn’t seem prepared and we came up with three easy steals, but we weren’t able to capitalize. About halfway through the quarter the boys started to feel the game slipping away from them, and the Hoover players began finding open shots all over the floor. The final score was 51-32.

In general I was extremely proud of how well the boys played tonight and how they conducted themselves on the court. The one exception, however, was Robert. Both he and Kenneth had pouted after last week’s game because the bench players had played instead of them in the closing quarter of a blowout win, so I chose not to start either boy tonight. Kenneth appeared to take it well, but Robert was visibly disappointed. When I put them into the game early in the first quarter, Robert continued making the soft, looping, turnover-creating passes that he’s been prone to all season long, so I took him out and talked to him about it. He scowled. When I pulled Kenneth for taking a three-pointer shot, he started to argue with me but quickly remembered his mistake from last week. A minute or so later he was back in the game and played well the rest of the way. Robert, however, continued making lazy passes all game long. I talked to him about it at every time out, in between the first and second quarters, and at half-time. Midway through the third quarter he did it again, lofting a fluttering pass into the highpost that turned into a Hoover lay-up. I pulled him immediately and didn’t even consider putting him back in. As our team was huddling up in the minutes following the final buzzer, I noticed that Robert was still on the bench and he had already changed out of his uniform. This act is not original, and the psychological explanation is painfully obvious. “I’m upset, and I no longer want to be viewed as part of this team.” When I was making my final speech in the locker room a few minutes later, singling out each player and complementing them for something they had done well tonight or during the season, I said something like, “Robert, I know you’re mad at me right now, but I still love you. Even though we had some issues tonight, you’re probably still the best defensive player on this team.” He’s not the best defensive player on the team, probably only third or fourth best, but I felt like throwing him a bone. Who knows if it made a difference.

But here’s the beautiful thing. As we were heading to the bus a few minutes later, I was wondering what might’ve happened if Mario had been on the team, but my four seventh graders, Kenneth, Roman, Stephan, and DiMarrie, were walking together and talking about how good next year’s team will be. Do you remember what it was to be thirteen?

Check back later this week for the Season Review.

On the Eve of the Playoffs • March 7, 2004

And so tomorrow we get what we wished for -- a playoff game. I don’t know anything about our opponent, Hoover Middle School, beyond their 4-1 record. Typically, though, they are fairly good, and their 4-1 mark is probably legitimate. Their league is kind of like the ACC, and ours is kind of like the Big West. The good thing, though, is that my players know nothing at all about this team. When they asked me what their record was, I lied and told them that I didn’t know, then I launched into a speech about how records don’t matter anymore -- everyone is 0-0 once the playoffs start. They seemed to like that. Probably every 2-3 playoff team likes starting over.

Kenneth, by the way, is still on the team, but not because of any improved behavior. He wasn’t able to make it to practice on Friday, so he wasn’t able to do anything to get himself kicked off the team, which is probably good for everyone. I never really want to remove anyone from the team, for two reasons. First, I’m not convinced that that’s the best way to teach a lesson. Smaller penalties, like reduced playing time or the loss of a starting position, tend to work better. Second, if I kick a good player off the team, I’m actually punishing the rest of the team as well. So unless Kenneth yells at me during our walk-through tomorrow, he’s safe.

And so what should we expect tomorrow? Unfortunately, I expect that we’ll lose. My hope is that things don’t get ugly. Regardless of what happens, however, we’ve already met our goal, which was to make the playoffs. A few days into tryouts I was wondering if that would be possible, and when we were 0-3 it didn’t seem worth considering, so I suppose our season has already been a success. As a friend of mine is fond of saying, anything beyond this point will be sweet, delicious gravy.

Welcome to Bracketville, Pop. 12 • March 4, 2004

Playoff brackets are intoxicating. As the pairings are first announced, the converging blank lines offer limitless possibilities while promising inevitable certainty. Every year when the NCAA tournament committee reveals its playoff seedings, I spend hours studying them, eyeing potential Sweet 16 matchups as I mentally follow teams through the sea of right angles that lead to the championship. In college, I even posted a six-foot wide bracket on the wall to track the progress of the sixty-four teams involved.

Our playoff bracket has room for only twelve teams, and the Lindbergh Eagles are one of those teams. The information I received from the bus driver last night was correct; Stephens beat Robinson by a point in overtime and Hamilton crushed Washington, giving us a slot on the bracket. I’m fairly certain that this is the first time in the rather long history of Long Beach middle school basketball that a sub-.500 team has advanced to the playoffs. So now we get ready to play Hoover Middle School, a second place team from another league, on Monday night.

Today’s practice was casual, as our Thursday practices tend to be. We worked on defending the inbounds pass underneath the opponent’s basket, a situation which has cost us about ten or twelve points this season, and ran a few rebounding drills before closing with a few fundamental games and competitions. But the most important event occurred early in practice and had to with Kenneth. I hadn’t spoken to him since his tantrum during last night’s game, figuring that he still probably wasn’t ready to hear anything I had to say. Instead, I opened practice by talking about how proud I’ve been to see how selfless our four big men have been all season long. Stephan, Patrick, Damon, and DiMarrie fill the four and five positions, and they’ve all shared playing time fairly equally. Each boy has started a game or two, and each has come off the bench. When I make substitutions, the boy who comes out of the game always sprints to the bench and never complains about being replaced. Their commitment to the team has been admirable. So I issued this compliment to them in front of the team, and even though I didn’t once look at Robert or Kenneth, every other boy on the team did. Even though I truly am incredibly impressed by how the four big guys have played, the true message of my statement was obviously directed at Robert and Kenneth.

We started practice, and it didn’t take long for Kenneth to have another tantrum. As we were working on the inbounds drill, the boys started having trouble stopping after the ball was inbounded. Instead, they wanted to continue playing past my whistle. We were wasting practice time. When I explained to them that the point of the drill was only to work on defending the pass, not to work on half-court offense and defense, most understood. Immediately after this discussion, however, Kenneth intercepted a pass from his defensive position and started dribbling downcourt, pretending that he was starting a fast break in the opposite direction. I called to him to pass the ball back, and when he didn’t do it immediately, another boy, Luigi, yelled at him to pass it back. This was too much for Kenneth. He turned and fired the ball back and yelled something at Luigi about minding his own business. When I stepped in and told Kenneth that he should’ve given the ball back even before he was asked, he started yelling at me. This is typical of boys who have anger control issues. Even though I really had nothing to do with the situation, he was taking out his anger on me. I quietly told him not to raise his voice to me, but at this point he clearly wasn’t in control of his emotions. At one point I asked him if he understood what I was saying, and he didn’t answer. When I pressed him, he snapped, “Yes!” During the entire confrontation he wouldn’t look at me, and his body was turned almost completely away from me. Total disrespect. I asked for the ball and told him to take a seat in the bleachers, where he sat for the rest of practice. I tried talking to him about thirty minutes later, explaining that if he didn’t learn to stop yelling at his coaches, he’d be watching a lot more basketball than he’d be playing. Not surprizingly, this drew no reaction from him. My guess is that something else will happen in practice tomorrow, and I’ll have no choice but to kick my starting point guard off the team on the eve of our first playoff game, which would be a shame.

Lindbergh vs. Franklin • March 3, 2004

In September of 1991, I landed my first paying job in education as a substitute teacher at Franklin Middle School. Three months later I was hired to a full-time position at Lindbergh, and I’ve been there ever since. Tonight I returned to Franklin for the first time since 1991 as our Lindbergh team played a game which would be critical to our playoff hopes. It wasn’t exactly like Bobby Knight bring Texas Tech back to play Indiana, but it makes for a nice lead-in, possibly more interesting than the game itself.

Even though we started slowly, it was clear to everyone right away that we were the superior team. At the close of the first quarter we were up 15-10, and I scolded the boys for playing so poorly. Clearly, they were too comfortable with their talent advantage and were playing down to the level of their competition. Apparently inspired by this upbraiding, they dominated the next two quarters 37-14. Midway through the second quarter I heard a frustrated Franklin player complain to his teammate, “We already lost this game anyway.” It’s my guess that they checked the standings, saw that we were 1-3, and thought they might have a shot at this game. Unfortunately they didn’t. For some reason, Franklin has had a hard time getting a team together recently; I think it’s been three years since they’ve won a game, which is sad. I spoke with their assistant coach before the game about the difficulties of a losing season, especially how hard it is to keep the boys positive. The worst thing is how viciously classmates will turn on the members of a losing team. With each successive loss the boys become the targets of increased ridicule. The reasons are simple: boys who were cut or weren’t eligible are jealous and it’s much easier for middle school students to criticize than it is to offer support. On the surface, it would seem that playing for your school team would be an honor, but for middle school students it also represents an enormous risk.

For our part, we played exceptionally well. Playing time was split equally amongst all thirteen players, and eleven different boys scored. More and more of the skills we’ve been working on in practice appeared in the game, and the boys were even noticing. As they came to the bench for a time-out immediately following a fastbreak lay-up, one of the boys looked at me and said, “That was just like the three-on-two drill from practice.” Music to my ears.

The fourth quarter was mostly garbage time. There isn’t a huge gap between our starters and bench players, but it was noticeable. A highlight for was having brothers Ivory and Isaiah play the two guard positions for a while before replacing them with brothers Andrew and Eric. Franklin closed a bit in the end to make the final score 60-42. A comfortable win.

But if everything had gone smoothly, it just wouldn’t have been Lindbergh Basketball. Midway through the second quarter our best guard, Kenneth, made a behind-the-back pass, something I’ve strictly forbidden. I pulled him immediately, and he came back to the bench in a foul mood. He said something about my decision’s being “stupid” and kicked the bench. When I told him that I couldn’t accept behind the back passes, he started yelling something about how that was the only thing he could do in that situation. It’s an interesting thing to have a thirteen-year old kid yelling at you. Suddenly, the game became secondary. Very conscious of the seven other boys on the bench, my four-year old daughter sitting a few feet away, and the handful of parents and family sitting in the bleachers just behind the bench, I gave him the type of tongue-lashing that’s usually reserved for the practice gym. It was short, but to the point. Follow the rules, or you don’t play. He didn’t for the rest of the game. Obviously, it wasn’t the pass that bothered me, so much as his reaction to being pulled from the game. Playing time is both the carrot and the stick; there’s no better way to reward effort or point out a mistake, but some players don’t react well to the embarrassment of being yanked from a game. Others do. At one point in the second half I pulled another boy for taking a three-pointer (which he made) about thirty seconds after I told the team to stop taking outside shots. When he got to the bench he smiled sheepishly and apologized. A few minutes later, he was back in the game. Kenneth, on the other hand, probably won’t recover from this until Monday.

Kenneth’s partner in the starting backcourt is Robert, the boy who was pouting after last week’s win. Tonight he played much better, and I told him so several times throughout the game. After the game, however, he was wearing the same sullen face as last week. We had just won a game that would possibly put us into the playoffs, and he was upset because he had sat out during the fourth quarter of a blowout. I explained to him that I wasn’t punishing him, I was just letting some of the other guys have a chance to play. He didn’t want to hear it, at least not tonight. Just another issue for me to deal with tomorrow.

On the bus ride home I asked the bus driver if he could radio the other drivers who were taking Robinson and Washington home after their games. During half time word had gotten to me that Robinson was actually ahead by five points, something I didn’t think was possible. As it turned out, they lost to Stephens, 71-70, and Washington lost to Hamilton by a lot. Assuming that these scores are correct, our win clinched a playoff spot. Our record is now 0-0.

Lindbergh Alumni update: Before the game I saw a former Lindbergh student who now attends Franklin. I had gotten to know her because her older brother, Eddie, played for me four or five years ago, and she had been keeping me up to date on the ups and downs of his life. About six months ago, Eddie was arrested for some sort of involvement in a robbery. The story from his sister was that it was actually his cousin, but that Eddie wouldn’t sell him out. So Eddie was sent to a youth camp for three months, then released and put on probation. Two weeks later he was seen in the company of known gang members, which was a violation of his probation. Knowing that he would be sent back to the camp for a longer sentence, he decided to skip his trial date and run. He was picked up within the week, and now he’s in a youth detention center serving a six-year sentence.

Focus • March 2, 2004

Current standings:
Hamilton 4-0
Stephens 3-1
Washington 2-2
Robinson 2-2
Lindbergh 1-3
Franklin 0-4

As practice started today, I reminded the team of the need to be focused, and that if we practiced well today, we would likely play well tomorrow. A sloppy, undisciplined practice could lead to a sloppy, undisciplined game. I also mentioned that even as we were talking about what needed to happen for us to make the playoffs, our playoffs essentially start tomorrow. If we lose, we’re done. I told them that we had the unique opportunity to control whether or not we get a shot at the playoffs. Based on how we practice and how hard we work, we would essentially be making a choice as to whether we’d like to be one of the twelve teams preparing for the playoffs, or one of the ten teams who will be finishing their seasons tomorrow. This was good stuff, and they were buying it hook, line, and sinker. And then they proceeded to go out and have one of the most indifferent practices of the season. Sometimes I felt like I was speaking a different language. When we were going over the offense, I was frustrated that the guards were taking one quick shot after another, so I stopped them and reminded them that we can get jump shots whenever we want them. What we have to do is be patient and move the ball around until we can get it to either the high or low post. They nodded. Satisfied, I started them again. After two passes, another jump shot. I resisted the urge to throw them all out of the gym, and things eventually got better, though not much better. At the beginning of practice I made the mistake of letting it slip that Franklin, our opponent tomorrow, hasn’t yet won a game, so I think they’re a touch overconfident. I’ll have to work on that when we meet for pre-game.

Playoffs a Possiblity • February 26, 2004

I spoke with our commissioner this morning, and he confirmed what I thought -- we still have a shot at the playoffs. The most likely scenario would have us ending up in a three-way tie with Washington and Robinson. We’re all even in the head-to-head tie-breaker, so we’d next look at defensive points allowed to each other. Unofficially, we’ve got the lead there by a few points, so we’ll get the third playoff spot from our league if we win and they both lose on Wednesday. It certainly looks likely, but we won’t be printing any playoff tickets just yet.

Lindbergh vs. Washington -- Sweet Victory! • February 25, 2004

Going into this game, I had a real feeling that we could win. Not just an artificial optimism, but a genuine belief that the strides made over the past two weeks would result in a victory. Part of the battle in coaching twelve- to fourteen-year olds is convincing them not to give up. Even though we had lost three straight games, I hadn’t had to work as hard as usual on this group. In the days following the Stephens loss they quickly forgot the things that hadn’t gone well and instead focused on their improved grasp of the offense and willingness to play hard on defense. My only contribution to this mentality has been a conscious effort to focus on skills and fundamentals during practice at the expense of lengthy (and often pointless) intrasquad scrimmages. By beginning each practice with a series of passing drills, I’ve given them a chance to see improvement from week to week. We then typically flow into any number of drills addressing individual skills. Every boy on this team has learned to take a charge, to pivot away from pressure, to ball fake, to pump fake, to box out, and to hold the ball high when putting back an offensive rebound. Over the course of our first three games, more and more of these skills have been demonstrated on the court, and the result has been tremendous overall improvement. Even so, I wasn’t sure if there had been enough improvement to get us a win.

Washington, our opponent tonight, had lost to Stephens two weeks ago, 75-73 in overtime. Since we had been competitive with Stephens for a good portion of the game, I took this as a good sign, but the score worried me. I didn’t think we could score seventy-five points in eight quarters, let alone four.

We won, 46-40. I had an almost immediate sense that we’d at least be in this game until the end. We had started slowly in each of our previous three games, but we won this first quarter 8-4, thanks mainly to outstanding effort by all involved. Two plays still stand out in my mind, both fouls called against us. The first came when DiMarrie (duh-mär-ee-ay) was whistled for boxing out too aggressively, something I’ve never seen called at this level. If I could’ve, I would’ve stopped the game right then and there for a parade in his honor. Later, Stephan, a 6’2” seventh grader drew a foul for posting up too aggressively. Parade number two. Things slipped a bit in the second quarter, and we ended up being down at the half by three, but I was never really concerned.

When we came back from the locker room, however, I noticed that Andrew’s aunt was talking to the teacher who keeps score for us, and she was angry. The second half was due to start in about forty-five seconds, so I couldn’t really get involved, but I did catch this choice quote: “They’re working hard, but they aren’t getting to enjoy the fruits of their labor! Now that’s not right!” My principal -- attending her first game -- leaned over and told me that the aunt had asked to have a parent conference with me. A parent conference about basketball. That would be a first. Andrew’s uncles didn’t seem to be concerned. They had sat through practice the day after the Stephens game and appeared to be satisfied. As they sat in the stands tonight, they were clearly thrilled with what was going on. I assumed that they’d straighten things out for me.

As the third quarter started, we took control right away and enjoyed a seven-point lead as we entered the fourth. The lead extended to ten at one point and it looked like we might be able to coast home, but we actually had to work for it in the end. Washington drew to within three inside the final minute before we made a few freethrows to get to the final of 46-40. Sweet victory. When we rebounded their final desparation three-pointer, Andrew’s uncle hopped out of the bleachers and high-fived every player on the bench. When he got to me I was still focused on the game, so he just slapped me in the ass. Really.

We won this game because of a complete team effort as seven different players scored, which is rare for this level. The defense was outstanding, the rebounding was as consistent as I’ve come to expect, and we did a much better job taking care of the ball. Still, there were some individual performance which could not be ignored. Stephan came into his own tonight. He made the team as a sixth grader last year based on his height, but he wasn’t coordinated at all. This year is different. He’s gained confidence with each game, and tonight he was clearly looking to dominate. He had three blocks in the first quarter alone, all three of which drew exclamations even from the Washington fans. Offensively, he was smart and aggressive. He posted up and called for the ball, and then was patient when he got it. He scored eight baskets on an assortment of lay-ups and short jumpers and finished with a game-high seventeen points. Kenneth, the point guard with a temper, also played exceptionally well, but the thing he did to impress me the most came when he was on the bench. Washinton’s point guard had hit a couple of three-pointers in the first half and penetrating an awful lot, so we decided at halftime to hybridize our zone and have one guy play him man-to-man. Midway through the third quarter he came out for a rest, so we went back to our basic defense. He checked in a few minutes later, and just as I was about to alert one of our guards to pick him up, Kenneth beat me to it and yelled out the instruction himself. Even though he was out of the game, he was aware of what was going on. I almost fell over. I can’t tell you how rare this is. The boys always watch the game when they’re on the bench, but it’s usually more like the way you would watch a game from your couch. They know the score, but that’s about it. I love these boys.

All the news was not good, however. Robert, our starting point guard, has been having trouble all season with his passing. He has a tendency to make short, looping passes which are easily intercepted. Also, he dribbles too much. I’ve been talking to him about this for a while, but tonight I finally had had enough, so his playing time was drastically reduced. He didn’t play much at all in the fourth quarter, and I noticed him pouting on the bench. Meanwhile, Eric (Andrew’s little brother who is on the team out of the goodness of my heart) was also deflating as he watched the clock ticking down. He played only the final three seconds, and I don’t think he even touched the ball. In the locker room following the game, the boys were ecstatic. They laughed, they pantomimed slow-motion instant replays of critical moments, and they even complimented each other. Everyone was basking in the afterglow of victory. Everyone, that is, except for Robert and Eric. I understood their emotions, but it was still difficult for me to accept. Robert had played a fair amount, but the team had won! And I don’t think Eric has any right to be upset at all, because by all rights he should’ve been sitting in the stands. I didn’t say anything to Eric, but I tried to speak with Robert. I told him that I understood that he was upset, but that this wasn’t the end of the world. It didn’t even mean that he wouldn’t start next week against Franklin. It only means that he needs to dribble less and make better passes. He nodded and went back to pouting. I gathered the sweaty jerseys and started calculating playoff scenarios while making a mental note to talk to Robert in a day or two.

Playoffs? • February 19, 2004

Late last night something occurred to me. The playoffs are not out of the question. Right now the standings in our league look like this:

Hamilton 3-0
Stephens 3-0
Washington 2-1
Robinson 2-1
Franklin 0-3
Lindbergh 0-3

As ridiculous as it sounds, we still have a shot. The top three teams in each of the four leagues advance to the playoffs, and with two games left, we can still scratch our way from last place all the way into the third spot if things break right for us. Here’s the not-too-unlikely scenario:

Hamiton and Stephens are locks for the first two spots, and we’ve already lost to both, so we need them to keep winning. We play Washington next week, so if we beat them and they lose to Hamilton in the final week, they’ll be 2-3. Robinson (which is a bad team) finishes with Hamilton and Stephens, two likely losses which would also put them at 2-3. If we can somehow beat Washington next week and then beat a Franklin team which will probably come in at 0-4, we would put ourselves in a three-way tie for third at 2-3. From there, things get dicey. Since the three tied schools would all have split with each other, we would have to go to the next tie-breaker, which is points allowed in those head-to-head contests, and who the hell knows how that would turn out. But we’ve got a shot. I realize how ridiculous it is for the coach of a team that hasn’t won a game to be calculating playoff possibilities. Perhaps the boys’s optimism is rubbing off on me.

Lindbergh vs. Stephens • February 18, 2004

Stephens Middle School is one of three or four schools in the district that are similar to our school in size, ethnic mix, and socioeconomic level, so I was looking forward to playing them tonight. Also, their coach is one of the few guys in the city who’s been at his post longer than I have, and this would be our first match-up. I was looking forward to the competition, but I was also hoping for a win. We got the competition, but not the win.

Things went bad almost immediately after the tip-off. I felt like we were playing well -- moving the ball on offense, standing our ground and boxing out on defense -- but we weren’t hitting our shots and they were. With about two minutes left in the first quarter we were down 11-0, and I was longer worried about winning; I was desperate to stave off the embarrassment of a scoreless opening quarter. Thankfully, Jeremiah scored with about a minute and a half left, and everyone seemed to relax. His lay-up triggered a 10-2 run that brought us to within three midway through the second quarter, but the pendulum would soon swing back in the other direction. We played well for most of the night, but each time we pushed the boulder up the hill, it would just roll back down on top of us again. We were never quite able to make up for that 11-0 start, even though we outscored them by two points over the second and third quarters. With about two minutes left in the game, the Stephens coach emptied his bench and I did the same. Garbage time was unkind to us, so the 55-35 final score belied the competitiveness of the game.

As it turned out, the Stephens coach and I have similar styles. We both stand for much of the game, constantly barking instructions to our players. At one point during a particularly sloppy stretch in the second half, we ended up right next to each other on the sidelines. He put his arm on my shoulder and said, “Can you imagine if they could fire us when our kids play crappy?” I laughed and thought of my principal’s visit from the previous week. After the game as our team’s were shaking hands, I mentioned to him that I was feeling some pressure from my principal, and he was stunned. He gave a two-word response: “She’s insane.”

In the locker room afterwards, the mood was very different. It was easy to explain away the Hamilton loss, because they were obviously a more talented team. The season was still young. Even after the Robinson loss, we could comfort ourselves with the knowledge that we had outplayed them only to be done in by missed shots and turnovers. After this game, however, with the season more than half over, it was impossible to ignore our 0-3 record. As Bill Parcells is fond of saying, at a certain point, you are what your record says you are. 0-3. I didn’t have much to say to the boys immediately after the game, because I had run out of material. I also knew that whatever I might’ve said during those few minutes following the defeat would not have been heard. It would have to wait until tomorrow.

And so I gathered the jerseys and bagged the balls and left the gym, only to be met by two of my least favorite people -- disgruntled parents. In this case they were actually disgruntled uncles, but they were still reading from the same script. When the team is winning, you don’t usually hear from these people, but when the losses start to mount, you can count on them. Without fail, they fall into one of two categories: 1) My son/grandson/nephew/little brother is good. Why isn’t he playing more? or 2) Why isn’t this team winning? On this night, these two guys, uncles of Andrew and Eric (the boy who wouldn’t leave and was taken back onto the team only out of the goodness of my heart) hit me with both barrels. First, the presentation of resumees. Uncle number one, who looks an awful lot like Forrest Whitaker, played high school and college baseball. Uncle number two played college basketball and even won a national championship. (I doubt this seriously, and it was all I could do not to ask him where and when.) Anyway, in their minds, all of this athletic experience makes them eminently qualified to criticize my coaching. Obviously, we weren’t winning, they said, and didn’t I think it would be better for the team if Andrew played a bit more, if only to give the two starting guards some rest? They even acknowledged that Eric wasn’t as good as Andrew and thanked me for taking him back on the team. They continued to admit that if we were winning, they wouldn’t be talking to me. All of this made it difficult for me to argue with them. I should’ve walked away at this point, but I didn’t. Perhaps they saw this as a sign of weakness, because then they really started in.

It wasn’t enough to discuss Andrew and Eric, what they really had on their minds was the team in general. They didn’t feel there was enough effort. They couldn’t understand why our two starting guards never came out of the game. They didn’t know why couldn’t focus on our layups. They wondered why we weren’t boxing out. I nodded and let them ramble on. It’s difficult for me to know how to react in situations like this, probably because I’ve always been more than a little insecure about my coaching abilities. Having never played basketball at anything close to a competitive level, I’m constantly questioning myself -- this makes it almost impossible to defend myself. So I usually just nod.

Uncle Forrest was sure he could help out, and he asked if they could come to practice to observe. “No problem. We’ll see you at 3:15.” Without question, I’ve had worse run-ins with parents; this was relatively painless. We’ll see if it stays that way.

An Interesting Thing • February 13, 2004

An interesting thing happened yesterday. My principal came into the gym during practice. A quick word about my principal. For some reason, winning is very important to her, so I can’t say that I was terribly surprized to see her. During the fall, our girls volleyball team won the city championship, and a few months later our girls basketball team advanced to the championship game before losing. The day before that game, my principal said to me, “How are the boys looking? I want to sweep the championships this year!” She sort of laughed as she said this, but it was clear that she was at least partly serious.

And so here she was, standing next to me in the gym as I tried to direct practice. She asked about whether or not the girls basketball coach was still going to be able to help me as previously planned, and I told her that I wasn’t sure, even though I knew that she wouldn’t be able to. As she surveyed the team that she had never before laid eyes on, she said, “There’s a lot of talent out here. How many games have you lost?” For a fleeting moment I had a vision of how Bobby Knight would respond to this line of questioning, but I chose the high road. Without taking my eyes from the drill my boys were running, I answered, “Two.” And then I walked away.

How could I possibly have taken her remarks? Her clear implication was that I’m not doing a very good job and that we could be doing better with someone else. As soon as practice was over, I found myself fighting different emotions. Initially, I couldn’t believe what had happened. This was, afterall, only middle school basketball. If you ask any of the coaches involved, everyone will tell you that winning is important to them. There are losses from several years ago that I still remember vividly. Winning is important, but when did it become a priority? Should I be concerned about my position? There’s another teacher at school who’s been vocal about wanting to take over the team, and it wouldn’t surprize me if he had mentioned something to the principal, instigating her trip to the gym. In response, I was tempted to walk into her office and remind her that only last year we had been the undefeated league champions before losing in the playoffs, and that we had advanced all the way to the semi-finals the year before. I also felt compelled to tell her that there really wasn’t a lot of talent out there, and to prepare her for the fact that we’ll probably lose again next week.

So I made up my mind to talk to her, but she wasn’t at school on Friday, so I let it go. It could be that she’ll never think of it again, or it could be that she’ll talk to me again the next time we lose. It’s best not to waste rational thought on an irrational situation.