The Unsung Heroes

There are many roles and responsibilities on a team. Some of them appear to be more important than the others because they gain the attention of the media or the fans. How many points a player scores is highly visible. Even the most uninformed fan can tally up baskets. Players who can make flashy passes are high on the list of the notable. Rebounders also can catch the eye of the newspaper guy.

All of these categories are essential to winning. I don't wish to downplay how critical they are to success. I am one of the best in the pulpit about the role rebounders play in victories. I do, however, want to discuss the players who never receive the limelight, who never get to slam high fives, and whose rare slap on the back comes at the end of a game after the victory is already assured. These are the players, the unsung heroes, who silently go about their jobs with the rare acknowledgement of others.

They are the ones who sit the bench yet have to come to practice with enthusiasm and determination. They have to suffer the same consequences the starters and the main substitutes do if they fail to do the drill correctly. They are never excused from the sprinting, the weight training, the video sessions, or the walk-throughs. They are expected to perform each of their duties the best they possibly can, and yet their reward is a few muttered thanks from the coaching staff and teammates.

This is a dirty, thankless job. Imagine being the player who loved so much to play that she spent her junior high and high school days neglecting social activities to practice, then achieving a college scholarship to discover herself on the bench. Nobody wants to do this job. It takes a player with tremendous character and love of her teammates and the game to watch from the sideline game after game after game, to be the one who is responsible for cheering from the bench, counting down from ten when the shot clock is winding down, calling "wolf" when a teammate is about to get the ball stolen from behind, and yelling "black" when the opponent's shot clock is about to expire.

I know how hard it is to sit the bench. I did it once and I was a terrible failure at it. All I cared about was myself, not the team, not our success. I wanted everybody else to be as miserable as I was. I was selfish and a horrible teammate. So when I say I understand the challenges of being the players on the bench, I mean it.

Today, I want to thank those players who rarely get in the game but who are always there for their teammates. Julianne Smith is a senior who is always in the game, watching from the sidelines and offering advice to the starters when they come to the bench. Shannon Zasloff is central to the laughter of the team. She keeps tight moments light and offers continual support. Lisanne Comeau never gives less than 100% in practice and always offers encouragement to her teammates. These women are the backbone of the team and have accepted their roles as critical to the team's success.

I applaud them now. Their roles on the team are the most challenging and they have accepted them with grace and honor. They have fulfilled them with integrity and have used them to better the team.

Thank you for being great teammates and for doing your best at your roles. You are appreciated.

ONE HEART. ONE DREAM.

Superhero Ali T

For this blog I would like to play homage to Ali Tobias or Ali T or Al or "A" as we lovingly refer to her. Around Christmas time, Ali came to the coaching staff with a dilemma. She needed to take a Praxis exam in order to graduate. The only dates available for the exam were the same dates we played games.

Now Ali is an amazing woman. She has more than once taken 21 credits in a semester and still achieved a perfect 4.0 GPA. Last semester she took 11 class hours while student teaching (a total of 29 credits) and playing basketball. Even with all her super hero skills, I did not know how she was going to take an exam on the same date we were supposed to be playing. This was a task even The Dynamic Duo would pass.

After consulting with the coaching staff, we agreed she could take the exam at Shepherd University on the morning of our game. In order to understand the magnificence of her feat, let me do a little history of the events surrounding the test.

We had just played four games in a nine day stretch against three opponents who had great records and ranked above us in the conference. Two of those games were on the road. On Thursday night, we played Wheeling Jesuit University at home where Ali played a significant role scoring 20 points. Friday morning at nine a.m. we departed for the long 5 1/2 hour drive to Shepherdstown.

Upon arrival at Shepherdstown, the team had about 45 minutes to rest before we met for an hour of scouting. At 5:45 p.m. we departed for practice, thinking our practice time was at 6:00. Since the practice time was actually 6:30, we were at the gym longer than we had anticipated, not departing until 7:45. Once back at the hotel, we went to eat which took over an hour and a half. There was no down time for the team. That night after watching more video on Shepherd, I brought Ali back into the room for a short 20 minutes session on some new things I had caught.

The next morning, Ali departed for her test at 7:00 a.m. At 1:25 p.m. as I was entering the extreme panic phase, Ali entered the locker room to get her uniform for the game. Without lunch or rest or her usual pregame warm-up, Ali had a short 30 minutes before tip-off.

Fortunately for the team, Ali in her silent but determined way, went about her business on the court as if nothing was out of the ordinary. It was just another day for a superhero. She scored 16 points, played incredible defense and led us to another tough victory on the road.

Thank you Ali for giving more than any coach has the right to ask.

ONE HEART. ONE DREAM.

Leadership In The Trenches

It is not easy being a leader. I tell this to my team leaders every year when they think they want to the the ones to lead. They think being the team captain is important; it gives them status or a critical role on the team. They are right. What they fail to understand is how difficult it really is.

When you are a leader, you cannot take criticism personally. If a teammate criticizes you, you have to take what is important and let the rest go. You cannot be afraid to speak your mind-- afraid of what your teammates might think of you. You have to be able to say the tough things, to get on teammates when they are not performing, to encourage them to play harder, and to think of their needs first.

It is a lonely position. It is not one where you are hoping to be liked; it is one where your primary goal is to be respected. When you are the leader, you are isolated from your needs. Teammates don't think you need to be encouraged or pumped up. They don't look to support you; they want you to support them.

When you are having a bad game failing to play to your potential and you are a leader, you still have to be a leader. You can't allow your performance to affect your leadership responsibilities. When you are sick or sad or feeling a bit out of sorts, it doesn't matter. You still have to be the one to get the team going, to fill the emotional hole and to encourage them to do their best.

A leader doesn't get a day off. Nope. She always has to be on the court emotionally for her teammates. She has to be willing to do the extra things--dive for loose balls, take a charge, yell from the bench or get in a teammate's face who needs it. She has to call team meetings, communicate with her teammates about practice times and hold the team together when they seem fragile.

It is not a role for the faint of heart. It is not a role for those who are self-centered. It is not a role to be abused nor to make those below you work for you. No, it is a job only for those who are mentally tested, who have endured the challenges of life and who desire something so much they are willing to get outside of who they are to make dreams happen.

I've never glorified the position of team leaders. I know it is a tough one. Heck, I have to live it every day except I have a bit of an advantage; I'm not leading my peers. I'm older. I've got more power. I hold the edge of the disciplinarian, and I've been working at being a leader for 21 years . . . and yet still I fail at it. The team leaders have to do what I do without my advantages. Their jobs are tough. No doubt about it.

I almost feel bad for the leaders when I get on them. ALMOST. The thing I know is I cannot feel sorry for them or take pity on them, because they are the keys to our success. When they fail in their jobs, the team fails.

We lost our last game due to poor leadership. I hate to say it but it is true. We lost because we went into panic mode, and there was no leader there with composure, with the emotional strength to get the team back on track. We went downhill quickly, pointing fingers, whining and blaming teammates. Our leaders felt bad for themselves--their performances. They wanted somebody else to step up, to take up the slack. They wanted somebody else to pick them up, to bring them composure and encouragement.

I know the feeling. There are days I want that. I want another person to take over, to have the responsibility for our successes and failures, to call the right plays, to make the correct substitutions, to adjust defenses when the opponents are running a play. Ultimately I take responsibility even when I don't want to take it. Like now. If our leaders failed, then who was leading the leaders? That would be me.

I know our seniors can do better. They know they can. They get sidetracked sometimes and forget how capable they are. They forget they are strong enough and they have the inner strength necessary to do what is asked even in the most challenging of situations. When they remember, we will win and win and win.

ONE HEART. ONE DREAM!

Learning How To Celebrate

When I first came to the University of Charleston ten years ago, we celebrated every victory. We were thrilled to simply win a game. This tradition only lasted a season as we quickly became a good team who expected to win games. The more games we won, the less it seemed we felt inclined to feel good about a victory. We hated the losses, cried about them, cursed at them, and lost sleep over them, but the victories . . . well, we just kind of let them slip right by us.

I think it is time we instituted a mandatory celebration after each win. I don't mean a throw-it-in-your-face kind of celebration. I simply mean we should take the time to feel good about each accomplishment. If we choose to only beat ourselves up over the losses, all our energy is going toward the losses and none to the wins.

After we won a game last week, I made the players get up in the locker room and do a little celebration dance. A day later, we had the locker room decorated with crate paper and balloons and gave out noise-makers to our players while we sat down to watch the game tape. It should feel good to win.

I think if all we do is focus on the losses, then we are essentially doing the same thing a team does at the end of a game when they are playing not to lose instead of playing to win. It is a recipe for disaster putting your focus on the negative.

So we are learning how to celebrate all over again. We will not put a show on in front of the opponents, but once we get behind closed doors we are going to party. Life should be fun. Playing should feel good, and winning, well . . . winning should feel like sunshine after a week of rainy days.

ONE HEART. ONE DREAM.

A Game Can Last A Lifetime

I've coached games which were long--longer than a car ride across Texas, longer than a plane ride to Africa, longer than it takes to swim, run and bike a triathlon. The moments in these games don't even tick; they don't have a sound that goes with time moving. The moments in these games are like a slow ride into eternity.

Most of these games are ones in which we are playing poorly, where the players eyes are glazed, their minds have separated completely from their bodies, and timeouts are useless forays into a swamp of confusion. Most of them.

On Thursday night, it wasn't the entire game which moved excruciatingly slowly; it was the last three minutes. In those last three minutes, an entire NFL season could have been played.

We had a ten point lead with three minutes and five seconds to go. All we needed to do was protect the ball, take good shots, play smart defense and we were assured the victory. This is the point where a coach usually looks at clock and feels relief not the desperate need to pray for the right ending which I must now confess I was doing.

We fouled. They made the first free throw and missed the second. We pushed the ball down the floor and missed a lay-up. They scored a lay-up. We were up 62-55. They pressed. We got the ball inbounds close to the end line where Ali Tobias was trapped with the ball. As the seconds ticked and the official counted, the bench collectively held our breath. Ali called a timeout, and as a unit we exhaled.

As we came out of the timeout, we were able to get the ball inbounds safely, get by the first three defenders and then, we passed to the wrong jersey color. Praying, cursing, watching desperately from the sidelines as the Vulcans looked to score a certain lay-up. We fouled. They made two free throws which made the score 62-57. I looked at the clock. Only seven seconds had passed.

When the ball came out of the basket, we quickly pushed it up the floor beating the press and then stopped, waited for them to resume their traps, and looking quite helpless, we stood transfixed on the court perhaps waiting for a moment to tick by, or waiting for time to move. Then they had the ball again, scoring another lay-up (62-59) and we were still waiting for the time to move.

A nine point lead had elapsed into a three point lead, and the neon numbers of the score clock on the wall were stuck in a time zone where only the Vulcans could make it move. I called a desperation timeout and made a passionate speech about the need to play for the victory. We were playing not to lose which is always the precursor to a loss. You must, I screamed, play to win.

Tiana Beatty's eyes were glued to mine during the speech, and we connected in a way only coaches and players can. On the next possession when she received the ball, she shot it with such certainty that it sailed perfectly out of her hands into the net. With a five point lead, the time finally felt different. It wasn't as fatal. We could make the clock move; we could shift the numbers on the scoreboard.

There was still time to play. In fact, we scored four free throws. They scored four points. We crossed the mid line of the court five times. I practiced breathing and mentally moving the numbers on the score clock.

When the buzzer finally did go off, time flew by and we were done. The celebration was completed, the post game talk over, the parents and fans gone, and the time without any thought to lingering went right to the preparation of our next opponent.

ONE HEART. ONE DREAM!