The Sapling - Year One

Any journey associated with a passion requires the right amount of “cinematic flair”. Whether you find yourself falling in the Aristotelian camp of “Art imitating Life” or the Wilde-ian Out camp of the inverse, there is an undeniable connection between the two. It is why we connect so deeply to different forms of art, and why we all have those, “I should write a book”, or, “They could make a movie of my life” moments. 

It is also why we are provided with so many maxims regarding these journeys within the journeys within the journey. The one thing we can all relate to, as human beings, is that we are one place, for a brief, singular moment, before we are whisked to the next brief, singular moment, (and so on forever). Our independence, our uniquity, comes in our perceived or proclaimed destination. For each part, for each path, for each port-of-calling, our projected lives scream of major metropolitan mass transit maps. 

So, where is this particular article going? 

Basketball has been a passion of mine since I first began playing in 2nd Grade. It has brought me life-long friendships and countless experiences for personal growth, both in positive-and-triumphant ways and challenging-and-defeating ways. After numerous reminders from my body during middle and high school athletics that I may not have been physically made for high-intensity, competitive sports, my interests shifted to the strategic and intellectual side of the game. They had to if I wanted to remain relevant in the world of my passion. As a junior attending Emory University in Atlanta, my craving for involvement in the game took me on a short walk from my dorm to Druid Hills High School and a dungeonous, ill-equipped weight room, where I spoke with then  Head Boys Basketball Coach Allen Craine. Now, 15 seasons later, I have accepted an offer to become Head Boys Basketball Coach at St. Augustine High School in St. Augustine, Florida. 

Has it been a “script-worthy” passage of time? Mostly in that the nature of Sports is. I tend to be a little less dramatic than the screen would request. For example, as a junior in high school on the Varsity team, I was tasked with keeping the shot chart during a game. As the clock wound down, a senior on our team hit a three-pointer to win the game at the buzzer. As everyone jumped off the bench and rushed the court, I had made sure to mark the shot on my chart before joining in the celebration. Priorities. (Nerd). So no, no one is going to be making a movie of my “side-career” anytime soon. 

Nor is this the culmination of anything. As one explores and experiences the joys of coaching, there are two very clear concepts: 1) Don’t calculate your hourly pay, and 2) Coaching is coaching. Whether at the professional level or with a bunch of ornery, snack-crazed five year-olds, the act of sharing the skills, strategies, and love of an activity is what makes coaching, well, coaching. Mix in the opportunity to have a positive influence on individuals through a conduit of their own interest, (or one applied to them by their parents' desperation to get them out of the house and burning off some of their energy), it is something that I would do free of charge. This was generally the case for 12 of those 15 seasons. 

However, I would be lying if I said I wasn’t excited at the opportunity.

I’m sure there will be plenty of posts to come on the subject, but I would be remiss if I didn't take the opportunity to acknowledge not “from where I’ve come”, but “from whom”. (In fact, the whole reason I opened to write this was to do so). The “Coaching Tree” is a concept that those familiar with sports know well, and that those who aren’t can easily figure out. Philosophies, strategies, methods passed down through the filter of proximity and shared experiences; mentorship rare to find outside of the world of athletics. These often unstated and unexamined bonds that appear suddenly, similar to when one finds themself “turning into their parents”. I am blessed to have been a part of so many positively influential Trees and know that I would not have ever faced this opportunity without each year of coaching experience under or alongside so many different individuals. 

My time at Druid Hills under Coach Craine introduced me to the coaching side of high school sports, and gave me a much needed experience with diversity. As the season ended during my senior year at Emory, I remember standing in the gym and knowing that this was not going to be something that I could live without. Coach Steve Messer welcomed me to the staff at my alma mater for a year between undergrad and grad school. (Ok, maybe this year had a bit of cinematic flavor as I worked third-shift to hold a job but still have a chance to coach). During this time, Coach Chad Freeman, (also an assistant coach during my playing days), handed me the reins for one JV game, the scorebook entry for which I still have. During my time in East Lansing, Hall of Fame Coach Dan Stolz accepted me to the Okemos family. My time coaching alongside him and Matt Dickerman provided even more insight into running a successful program through being the model of a “good man” for high schoolers. I returned to Hersey after graduating and spent more time in a Messer program, working alongside Sean Gudaitis and Rick DiVito. There was never a moment at Hersey where “forming men from boys” was not the clear priority of the coaching staff. Then a move to Florida. My first task after accepting a job at a Montessori school was to procure the opportunity to coach locally. Tim Winter brought me on at St. Augustine High School and, when he handed the program over to Coach Cooper, he, too, saw enough in me to keep me around. He then accepted the AD job and doubled-down on me, offering me this opportunity to lead an entire program with a strong foundation of success on and off the court. 

These men, (and others listed below), have all contributed to my education as a high school basketball coach and an educator of young men, and are with me in my (brief) celebration of my new role (before having already dove headfirst into planning). The world outside of the coach’s office often overlooks successes but is quick to point out failures. It is a thankless job. But, I will give them credit during successes and take all the blame for failures. And I can give nothing but thanks to them and for them. 

The easy, and probably traditional, method of ending this post would be to find the quote of some well-known basketball coach...I’m not quite sure about the easy way. So as I finish this post and “begin” life as a Head Boys Basketball Coach, I lead you a little outside of the box-and-one (basketball joke) with this sentiment about the continuation of my coaching “career” into season 16, ironically with a cinematic reference: 

“There’s not a word yet; for old friends who’ve just met.” - Gonzo, The Muppet Movie

Ok, maybe it would make a good story, but not until a few more scenes are written...

Additional thanks to Coaches: Ken Husser, John Novak, Don Rowley, Reggie Lumpkin, Coach Bryant (I’m not sure I ever really knew your first name), Greg Keadle, Justin Penio, Jeff Gurvis, Tyler Hersey, Carter Briggs, Guy Calise, BJ Esguerra, Markis Merrill, Johnny Allen

More thanks to all of my friends and teammates for challenges, support, and tolerating my quirks.

Even more thanks to every player I have ever had the privilege of working with. Thankful that social media has allowed me to keep up with the quality individuals you are growing into.

"Zen in the Art of Archery" - Applied

Background

In this age of technological abundance, we are constantly inundated with information, opinions, and informative opinions…or…opinionated information. As a coach, as someone working in the field of education, whether it be my teaching career or personal/physical/sport training side-hustle, I am not only part of the flood, but guilty of frequently being one of the many fish in this new, murky sea, who thinks I may have some answers that someone needs to hear. I will never claim expertise, I am not sure that is a thing. Varying degrees of experience, insight, and synthesis are what establish the somewhat convoluted tiers of the Educators and the Educated.

In understanding and appreciating my own shortcomings and/or being realistic about my coaching marketability, from an early age I was determined to supplement my intellectual mind with the minds of intellects in order to provide a differentiated product for my athletes. My Master’s thesis involved incorporating ancient texts into modern day athletic coaching. Minds like Epictetus, Marcus Aurelius, Sun-tzu, Wei Liao-tzu, and Miyamoto Musashi all offered knowledge into finding success whether the battlefield was literal or figurative. Why could we not expose our young athletes to these philosophies for the betterment of their performance on and off the court?

Zen in the Art of Archery

This summer, I revisited that literary stage of my life. I can’t remember from where the recommendation came - whether I stumbled upon it while searching for archery focus training literature or heard it mentioned in a podcast is neither here nor there. But I ended up ordering Zen in the Art of Archery by Eugen Herrigel.

Here’s the Wikipedia entry on the text:

Zen in the Art of Archery is a book by German philosophy professor Eugen Herrigel, published in 1948, about his experiences studying Kyūdō, a form of Japanese archery, when he lived in Japan in the 1920s. It is credited with introducing Zen to Western audiences in the late 1940s and 1950s.

My goal at the outset was to explore another avenue for athlete-connection, or in the tagline case of MCCWT, competitive wellness. The book provided more than I expected, both toward my goal to be better for my athletes and toward me being better myself. Herrigel recounts his thoughts along his way to mastery and the demeanor and tactics of his teacher. To have such a philosophical mind reflecting upon being a student added value.

As Herrigel continued to struggle with the particular aspect of the “release” of his bowstring, that is, the bowstring releasing itself from his hold naturally, his Master responded to his difficulty.

“You have described only too well where the difficulty lies. Do you know why you cannot wait for the shot and why you get out of breath before it has come? The right shot at the right moment does not come because you do not let go of yourself. You do not wait for fulfillment, but brace yourself for failure. So long as that is so, you have no choice but to call forth something yourself that out to happen independently of you, and so long as you call it forth your hand will not open in the right way - like the hand of a child. Your hand does not burst open like the skin of a ripe fruit.”

After Herrigel remarks his confusion, his Master continued.

The right art is purposeless, aimless! The more obstinately you try to learn how to shoot the arrow for the sake of hitting the goal, the less you will succeed in the one and the further the other will recede. What stands in your way is that you have a much too willful will. You think that what you do not do yourself does not happen.” (pg 30-31)

Part of the appeal of this book was sharing initial confusion with Herrigel as his Master seemingly spoke in cryptic codes of unobtainable realities. But with further time dedicated to thinking about the message, and ultimately the results, it becomes a viable option for performance in any arena, especially athletics.

Being basketball-minded, that was where my mind went. The application of this ancient archer’s zen to a jump shot seemed reasonable enough. Greater obstacle would exist in the training required to calm the mind with all the surrounding chaos in a game of basketball versus the individual act of archery, even with an audience.

Art Applied

Quick disclaimer: I am by no means a good golfer. I have the physical tools to someday get there. I have not committed the resource of time and money into a dedicated practice toward improvement. I enjoy the game because it is time with friends, and I love/loathe the game for its demands on me mentally and emotionally. When I discuss improvement, it is only marginally by metric. Yes, I shot the best round I ever have, but that is secondary or tertiary to the message coming.

So I went out to golf with a couple of old friends. I hadn’t swung a club with the exception of chipping whiffle balls in the backyard with my son a couple weeks prior. I hadn’t played a full round in a year. I was excited to see them, to play, to get out and enjoy summer in a more traditional way. I was also nervous. This is the mental/emotional side of golf that I have a very complex and conflicting relationship with. Its demands upon my ego, my confidence, and my expectations of performance in any field are taxing. I want to be good, I want to be in control, and I know that if I practiced I could be and, since I don’t, I shouldn’t expect much, but I still do.

Before we started the round, (ok, the night before, because I’m a bit of a head case sometimes), I decided to reflect upon Zen in the Art of Archery and test its application. This seemed reasonable and within reach philosophically seeing as it was an action that I alone was in control of in order to perform. But, alas, an action that I needed to realize I was in no way in control of in order to be successful.

If you have read older blog posts here, I did one on mantras. Again, making sure the non-expertise I’m sharing at least isn’t complete dogma, I decided to bring these concepts together.

Prior to each swing my routine included a loosening of the hands for a regripping with less tension, and reminding myself, “I am simply a vessel for the science of this sport”. Now there were multiple iterations, but you get the idea. A few years earlier, one of the friends I was golfing with on this occasion reassured me that the club was designed to do what it needed to do. So this new approach came out of understanding, accepting, and forfeiting myself to that theory.

I removed myself, as much as I could, from the equation of the success and, more importantly, the failure of each swing. I allowed all pressure to lift, so long as I did what I was needed for.

Now, granted, there were some awful shots, but far less frequently than in the past. There were a couple where I knew I was in trouble mid-backswing because my attention shifted, or my thoughts shifted, and I just had to play out the rest and hope I didn’t lose the ball.

An interesting note: This didn’t work for putting. My reasoning frames this as the amount of human involvement necessary. Prior to the greens, my presence was only needed to aim and allow everything to do what it was made to do. Putters are not made to read greens or judge speeds. Hence, my putting was still fairly atrocious.

Takeaway

Golf is cruel. It always will be. Likewise, one good shot the entire round could be enough to bring you back for more. Both statements are typically the norm for me. However, there were more of the latter this round and I am sure it is not a coincidence. Obviously the next time out could be another disaster, but the practice of removing the self and allowing the natural processes to take place is a starting point.

I cannot think of an athletic discipline nor athlete that would not benefit from adding this type of training to their regiment. Beginning with reading Zen in the Art of Archery and investigating the personal application and interpretation of both Herrigel and his Master.

Especially in a time where we are all so exposed. Looking back at that resource of reach and technology, every mistake and every triumph may be captured and shared with complete strangers. Young athletes are growing up in a time where personal pride is clouding the purpose of the game. If you’d like to try to convince me that an adolescent athlete isn’t facing even greater pressures today than previously in history you’d have to bring a strong case. Specialization at an early age, travel teams, national rankings through numerous media…that’s a lot of children and young adults, especially ones still navigating daily personal development, school, and LIFE at the same time.

I leave you with one last bit from Zen in the Art of Archery. In further confusion about the nature of practice, Herrigel asks his Master for further guidance:

“What must I do, then?” I asked thoughtfully.

“You must learn to wait properly.”

“And how does on learn that?”

“By letting go of yourself, leaving yourself and everything yours behind you so decisively that nothing more is left of you but a purposeless tension.”

“So I must become purposeless - on purpose?” I heard myself say.

“No pupil has ever asked me that, so I don’t know the right answer.”

“And when do we begin these new exercises?”

“Wait until it is time.” (pg 31-32)

Own Your I

College Basketball: Always Glorious, Now Better

I have been a passionate fan of college basketball for as long as I can remember. March is a sacred time for me and many of my best memories come from sharing the madness with friends and family. 

With the unveiling of the Department of Justice investigation into corruption throughout college basketball, I'm neither surprised nor disappointed. 

As any follower of college sports, and skeptical non-follower, will tell you, this is not a shock. There have been movies made about the corruption and the influence of money on the "amateur" sector of big time athletics. The extent, the players, were either not known or unable to be tied to any offense. Now, the proverbial cat literally tore its way through the bag, the bottom of the bag, and so everything is falling out. 

I'm not upset. I'm not worried. In fact, I may be a little excited. Not that young men and their families will be dragged through their mistakes publicly, not that adults in influential positions took advantage of high school athletes for years. I'm excited that, at least in the interim, the corruption will slow down...maybe even fully stop for a short time. 

Where does this take us? Ideally toward the leveling of the playing field; ideally toward recruiting being a true test of a coach's ability to offer these high school student-athletes something real. No longer will the "small schools" have to compete with a chunk of cash they don't have. 

Maybe the structure is cracked, maybe the foundation shifts, but college basketball will always be college basketball.