Steely Eyes, Servant Heart
TAMIKA CATCHINGS
I have never met Tamika Catchings but I followed her when she played for Pat Summitt at the University of Tennessee. Pat and I were speakers on a number of programs together and we came to admire each other’s servant leadership philosophies. Some think servant leadership is soft management, but as Tamika will share with you, that doesn’t describe the way Pat Summitt served and motivated her players. She was a fierce competitor but her players always came first. When she passed away, the world lost a great person and a great coach—but Pat Summitt’s legacy as a great servant leadership role model lives on through people who learned from her and loved her—people like Tamika. —KB
WHEN I THINK of servant leadership, I think of Pat Summitt.1 Pat was my basketball coach at the University of Tennessee (UT) from 1997 to 2001. And I know I am speaking for all of the 161 young women who were fortunate enough to play for her when I say that Pat was much more than our coach. She was our friend. She was our mentor. She was our mother. She was our inspiration. And she was a true servant leader.
Pat passed away on June 28, 2016, but she will be a part of me forever. There’s not a day that goes by that I don’t feel her impact on my life.
Pat’s professional record is legendary. During her 38 years at UT, she coached the “Lady Vols” to 112 victories in NCAA tournament games, 18 NCAA Final Fours, and 8 National Championships. Her 1,098 total wins still hold the record for the most wins of any Division 1 college basketball coach—male or female. She received numerous awards including Naismith Basketball Coach of the Century, the Arthur Ashe Courage Award, the Presidential Medal of Freedom—and let’s not forget her two Olympic gold medals.
Pat’s accomplishments on the court are what we hear about a lot, but she was so much more. Basketball sidelines around our country are filled with coaches at all levels who can point directly to Pat’s influence as the reason they are where they are today. She put herself out there every day for her players, her fans, and just about anyone who was willing to look beyond those steely blue eyes to get a few moments with her. It was never a big deal for her to serve others. I don’t think she saw it as a big thing to come in early, stay late, or to do any of the extra stuff she did—it just got done. Her players would never think Wow, I can’t believe she just did that. Pat was our superwoman. We just knew where there’s a will, there’s a way and she was going to get it done, whatever it was.
I grew up in a basketball family. My father, Harvey Catchings, played in the NBA for eleven years. Soccer was my first organized sport, followed by softball, and then basketball in the third grade. My sister, Tauja, played basketball in college and beyond. My brother, Kenyon, was a stellar basketball player in high school before he was sidelined with Crohn’s disease. I played for Pat at UT and then played for fifteen years in the WNBA for the Indiana Fever until I retired in September 2016.
I was in the eighth grade when I first laid eyes on Pat Head Summitt. I was home from school, sitting on the couch channel surfing, and suddenly it happened. Those icy blue eyes were staring at me from the screen, and in that moment I was completely transfixed and unable to turn away. While the players dressed in orange were going up and down the court, my gaze was fixated on the lady with the eyes. She was stomping up and down the sidelines, yelling to her team, staring them down and demanding respect. I loved it! I was drawn to it. My first thought was Whoa! That lady is intense! But my next thought was Wow, if I ever get good enough, I want to play for her. It would be the best thing ever. I don’t know how much more of the game I watched, but I had been mesmerized by that woman. One minute she would be shooting that steely glare and the next minute she would be smiling and grabbing one of the players in a bear hug. That was the day I started thinking about going to college, wearing that orange uniform, and playing for the lady with icy blue eyes.
Just two years later, the recruiting process began for me. I received all types of offers to different schools, but somehow even as a youngster I didn’t get caught up in any of that. As I thought about where I wanted to play, I was looking for somebody who had the same values as my mom and dad—the values I had been raised with. There was one coach who had all of those values and more: Coach Pat Summitt.
I remember the day during my junior year of high school when Pat sat in my living room for a home visit, telling me what it would be like to have me playing on her team. It was so cool. The thing I loved the most about her visit was that she didn’t promise a specific amount of playing time, or that I would start or even have a chance to play. She said she treated all her players the same—they had to earn their minutes and their position on the team. She expected everyone to strive to be their best, every single day. And she told me she would help make me the best player I could be. That’s the thing I loved the most—being challenged.
So I chose Tennessee and Pat. Reading my acceptance letter, which came directly from Pat, was a dream come true. It was something I had hoped for since the day I saw her laser blue eyes glaring back at me from my TV screen.
Coaches at other schools I had visited had shown a clear leniency toward their players. But Pat was strict and her expectations were high for everyone. Her players knew what they were getting into when they came to play for her—it was going to be a lot of work. But when you want to be the best, you know what you have to put out there. Most of us had come out of high school as stars with numerous titles and accolades, but we were now all on the same level. So if a player came in acting like a diva, Pat would put her in her place really fast. “If you’re going to play for me, these are the things I expect,” she would say. She wanted our all.
Every day, Pat drilled into us her team-first philosophy: it’s not about you—it’s about the team. Every game was a team effort. It’s just like life: you need your people around you to be successful and to help you get through it. Despite her legendary glare, stomping, and shouting, Pat’s ultimate goal and purpose was to help each of us be better—not just better players, but better people. Isn’t that what servant leadership is all about?
Pat challenged me in ways I had never been challenged before, and I loved it. I had never worked as hard as I worked in her practices during those years. Practices were always competitive between the players—even bloody at times! But off the court, we were family. Pat made sure there were no grudges held. She always had us practice against male players because she was always thinking about the game and how she could best prepare her team. It was never about girls vs. boys—Pat knew if we practiced against people who were quicker, stronger, taller, and more athletic, it naturally would condition us to be better players. She always said, “You’ve got to practice against the best to be able to play against the best.” After going through Pat’s practices, the games were almost easier.
Emblazoned on the wall in our locker room at UT was a list with the title “The Definite Dozen.” They were Pat’s rules for success—her blueprint for winning, not just in basketball but in life. She saw these ethical principles, developed through her years as a coach, as the reason for her success. And every year she drilled them into her team. The Definite Dozen were:
1. Respect yourself and others
2. Take full responsibility
3. Develop and demonstrate loyalty
4. Learn to be a great communicator
5. Discipline yourself so no one else has to
6. Make hard work your passion
7. Don’t just work hard, work smart
8. Put the team before yourself
9. Make winning an attitude
10. Be a competitor
11. Change is a must
12. Handle success like you handle failure
Pat wanted us to be the best at everything we did—not just basketball. Yes, she focused on the game and wanted our best on the court. But she also wanted our best in the classroom. She wanted our best when we went out into the community. She continually pressed all of us to be great players, great students, and great people. When I go back to values, that’s what stood out for me. She wanted me to be the best me I could be. She didn’t want me just because I was a good basketball player—it went way beyond that.
I was born with a hearing disability and wore hearing aids at a very young age. Since I never really knew anything else, I didn’t give it much thought until I started second grade in a new town. The other kids made fun of me relentlessly, laughing at my big, clunky hearing aids and the way I talked. So one day when I was walking home from school, I threw those hearing aids as far as I could into a field full of tall grass. My parents weren’t happy and decided not to replace them. I didn’t care; I was free! And I didn’t wear hearing aids again—until Pat got involved.
Like many great leaders, Pat had an open door policy. If we had something going on in our personal lives we wanted to share with her, she was there. And it went both ways: if Pat was curious about something, she wasn’t shy about finding out what she needed to know.
One day after practice, Pat asked to speak with me. Along with our athletic trainer, Jenny Moshak, we sat down in the training room and Pat began asking me some seemingly random questions.
“Tamika, when people can’t see clearly, what do they need?”
“Glasses,” I said, oblivious to what was happening.
“And when someone walks with a limp, what do they need?”
“I guess sometimes they need to wear something inside their shoe?”
The questions continued. And then:
“And when people can’t hear, what do they need, Tamika?”
I suddenly realized why we were having this talk. Oh man, she got me!
“They need . . . hearing aids,” I said with a smirk.
Pat told me she had called and spoken with my mom. She had noticed more than once that I hadn’t heard something she’d said, and she wanted to find out if there was anything she needed to know. Of course, my first thought was how mad I was at my mom. But Pat had a message for me that day that I’ll never forget.
“Tamika, think of where you want to go, what you want to do, and who you will be one day. You’ll have so many opportunities to impact people’s lives. You’ll be able to show kids who are going through the same thing you did when you were younger that it didn’t stop you—and that they, too, can do anything to reach their dreams. You’ll be able to encourage parents who have a child with a disability. You don’t get it right now, but you have so much to offer. One day by using your voice you will make a difference in so many lives. You need to start preparing for that right now.”
I got the message, immediately began speech therapy, and was fitted for new hearing aids. Pat was right, of course. She was always right.
Pat was honored when they dedicated the Pat Summitt Plaza and statue at UT in 2013—but she kept saying, “It’s not about me, it’s not about me.” And I said, “Pat, it is. We all are where we are and have had the success we’ve had because of you.” But that was Pat. She was an extremely humble person who never gravitated toward the spotlight. She would always turn it around and shine it on her players. That’s the kind of person and the kind of leader she was—a servant first.
After I graduated from Tennessee and went to the WNBA, Pat and I stayed close. I looked to her for support and direction navigating the ups and downs of professional basketball. She was always only a phone call away. From the beginning, Pat seemed invincible to me. But, well, life shows us differently.
There are still days when I can’t believe she’s not physically here. It hits me at the weirdest moments. But then something snaps me out of it. It’s almost like Pat’s there telling me she’s okay—“Catch, you got this.” I know I would not be the person I am today without her presence in my life. There will never be another Pat Summitt. But her legacy shines bright through the players she coached, the staff who worked tirelessly around her, and the many fans and people across the globe who Pat encouraged and inspired. While we don’t get to see her every day, her memory will live on forever.
Tamika Catchings played basketball for Coach Pat Summitt with the University of Tennessee Lady Vols from 1997 through 2001. She was a member of the 1997 National Championship team at UT, and is a four-time All-American. Tamika retired from WNBA basketball in September 2016 after spending her entire fifteen-year professional career with the Indiana Fever. She was the WNBA MVP in 2011 and took the Fever to their first WNBA Championship in 2012. She is the founder of the Catch the Stars Foundation, which provides and promotes fitness and literacy programs for underserved youth. In 2016 she published her autobiography, Catch a Star: Shining through Adversity to Become a Champion. Following her love for tea, she purchased Tea’s Me Café in Indianapolis in 2017 and has plans to franchise the company.
1. For more information on Pat Summitt, read her autobiography (with Sally Jenkins): Sum It Up: A Thousand and Ninety-Eight Victories, a Couple of Irrelevant Losses, and a Life in Perspective (New York: Crown Archetype, 2013).