10

Building Your Bridge

When I first got into coaching at the age of twenty-four at Boston University, my thoughts and aspirations were of winning basketball games, developing great players, designing great offenses and defenses, and climbing the ladder of success. As I have crossed the threshold of age sixty, however, I’m no longer thinking about that ladder. Now I think more about a bridge. That’s the imagery that has been in my mind lately as I look back on my career and realize that just as much as the victories, it’s the people you worked with and walked with across the bridge to their own success that mean more than anything. Certainly, any schoolteacher or manager understands this imagery. It’s the essence of what being a leader is all about, and I feel fortunate as I look back to see a crowded bridge. I got into coaching to win games and because of my love for the game. Part of working with players, however, is helping them cross that bridge from being college students to successful young people. What I never expected when I launched into coaching was looking around at my bridge at this point in my career and seeing so many other coaches having crossed it along with me. I did not set out to be a trainer of coaches, it just seemed to happen as a by-product of the way we did things, and of my great joy in seeing people who have worked for us go on to be successful on their own. I’ve always felt that lending a hand to help people reach their potential is what leadership is all about. When I’m asked how it has happened that twenty-eight coaches, players, or managers have come from my teams to land head coaching jobs of their own, there is no single answer. Certainly, I look for future head coaches when I am looking for assistants. I want someone with ambition and hunger. Still, I have hired guys who I had little idea would make it big in the profession, only to see them do just that.

One major key is that you never judge by first impressions or secondhand reports. The adage says you can’t judge a book by its cover. That is right. I’ve had so many illustrations of people making it big in our industry that you never would have identified with such ability or potential at first glance. You never truly know what’s the inner drive of a person. I remember a handwritten letter by a young man from New Jersey who wanted to learn our system and serve as a student manager. I was the head coach at Kentucky and returned his letter suggesting he would be better served to apply at schools in New Jersey. I informed him that UK was predominantly Kentuckians and he might feel like a duck out of water. I suggested that he look at Seton Hall or some of the other programs in the Northeast. He was not deterred and wrote back that he wanted to study our style of play. I agreed and Frank Vogel was hired as one of ten people who would aid our team on the periphery. Like most student managers, he worked diligently to do all the grunt work with very little recognition, only earning increased financial aid with more time served in the program. This young man was a true student of the game, a good high school player who wanted to learn all facets of our profession. After graduation he became a graduate assistant helping with our video and scouting operation. When I moved on to become coach of the Boston Celtics, he came along as video coordinator. After my departure, he stayed on and helped my assistant Jim O’Brien when he took over as head coach of the Celtics. Of course, today Frank is the highly successful coach of the Indiana Pacers. Frank had energy and drive. His strong ambition helped him achieve a level of success that I never could have imagined when I was reading that initial letter. Through hard work, and given just a crack at an opportunity, he crossed that bridge with so many of the managers and assistant coaches I’ve had whose dream was to learn and one day run their own program.

Sometimes you know when people are going to be successful. I never had any doubt about Billy Donovan, though I always encouraged him to go into business or something that might make more money than coaching. He was another who would not be deterred, and sitting in the stands watching him win the national championship with Florida was one of my proudest moments.

More often, however, you reach out to assistants because something in them strikes you as promising, even if you’re not sure how they will pan out. Marvin Menzies started out running nightclubs and bakery shops—hardly the typical coaching background. But I had learned by that time to be open to any kind of experience, as long as the person appeared passionate and knowledgeable. As it turned out, Marvin was a bundle of energy and he and his wife, Tammy, were a fantastic duo in making our program successful. Marvin now is head coach at New Mexico State, and I heard from him during our tournament run. One afternoon a gift came to the hotel. I opened it and it was a huge framed coaching tree, with small photos of everyone who has ever coached for me and gone on to become a head coach, signed and placed over a beautifully drawn tree. Looking at it, I can’t help but be struck at how fortunate I’ve been to work with so many talented people.

I will admit I wasn’t sure about one young assistant I brought on at Providence. He had limited experience playing the game, didn’t play in college, and I wasn’t sure he had the stature to climb to great heights in our game. But after watching his tremendous dedication and overwhelming love for the game, including sleeping nights in the coaches’ office so he would be the first one in, I knew Jeff Van Gundy could accomplish anything he wanted in this business. And he has, both as a successful NBA coach and a fantastic analyst.

I never thought a guy like Reggie Theus, who had been an NBA All-Star and a legitimate TV and movie star, would be the kind of person who would make the kinds of sacrifices that a coach in our system has to make. Again, it was an assumption that was incorrect. Reggie’s problem was that everyone else thought the way I had thought. But when I talked to Reggie and realized that this big-time NBA veteran had coached for a year as a volunteer assistant at Cal State–Los Angeles, I realized he was a guy who was willing to pay the price. He was a fantastic assistant, a great recruiter, and in his short time in Louisville helped us guide the program back to its first Final Four since 1986. He was a serious basketball guy who just needed someone to take his coaching ambitions seriously.

Some coaches and leaders, I’ve noticed over the years, want to be the smartest guy in the room. That’s an attitude to be avoided. I was looking for assistants who would take ownership in the program, who would be serious every day about challenging all in our program to be their best while also showing a work ethic that was second to none. I understand now better than I ever have, if I can find someone with that incredible drive but also incredible humility, I know I’ve found someone who not only is going to do a great job for us, but someone who is going to be successful over the long haul.

That humility is a common denominator in those who have passed through my staff to go onto long and successful coaching careers. Whether you’re talking about Billy Donovan, Tubby Smith, Frank Vogel, or others, it not only sets up an attitude of improvement, focus, and positive work ethic, but it enables them to withstand the rigors of the profession on their own.

I get so many calls, texts, and notes from former assistants now in the coaching ranks, and they are always grateful. But here’s something I realized. Seeing them all do so well has played a significant part in my longevity and effectiveness as a coach. I’ve learned something from all of them. But it’s more than that. I first experienced this when I was coach at Boston University, when I watched my good friend and former assistant Bill Burke move on to become head coach at Loyola of Baltimore. Keeping up with Bill and watching him build a program there gave me as much excitement, energy, and esteem as any victory. When it happened again with other former players or assistants, I noticed the same thing.

Our guys work long and hard. Long before the NCAA’s twenty-hour working day maximum rule was mandated, our coaches came in at 5:45 A.M. and worked all day, until our three-on-three coaches’ game ended in the evening. Our players were putting in a session before breakfast, had between-class shooting, and individual instruction before finally getting down to a team practice. I was, in those early days, only a few years older than my junior and senior players. The more I watched them achieve, the higher my self-esteem would rise, and the more motivated I would be. I didn’t realize it back then, but I was building a bridge that so many others would cross. Individual honors are nice. But when one of your coaches or players moves up that ladder of success, you put your head on your pillow and smile with a great sense of pride and happiness for them.

Boston University was my first laboratory to tinker with a running, pressing system. I look back to my team picture there, and between players and coaches, three went to the NBA, one as a head coach, another a chief scout for the Celtics, and a third assisting Greg Popovich with the San Antonio Spurs. Three others became college head coaches. At Providence College, I witnessed some of the lowest esteem I’ve ever encountered when first getting together with the players. They were a perennial doormat in the Big East, but behind an unbelievable work ethic, led by Billy the Kid Donovan, in our second season that team went to the Final Four. We celebrated together when Billy won back-to-back national titles as a coach. And in April of 2012, we celebrated our twenty-fifth anniversary of that Final Four run. It was great to see these men, and to experience a bond that lasts a lifetime. Dave Kipfer, our power forward who made us tougher in practice each day, told me then that he’d been sober for three years. I told him what he was accomplishing was as great as any Final Four. The esteem I saw those guys build at Providence came back to me in self-confidence and energy. Your esteem is your true self-worth. And when you help someone cross that bridge, your self-worth increases. I was a wealthy man at a very young age without ever realizing it. Ever since then, at every stop, the bridge has been building, with a steady stream of traffic crossing from training to sustained success. Looking back on those stops, I count it a rich experience.

Some of the wealthiest people in America are not listed in Forbes magazine. They are teachers, hospice workers, and many others working for religious and charitable organizations. Their bank accounts won’t reflect much monetary evidence, but what they have in terms of true worth and happiness cannot be matched or bought. What good is a long career, even a successful one, if you reach the end of your bridge and look around only to find yourself alone, or to regret not bringing more people along on your journey or helping them start theirs?

We’ve talked a great deal in this book about weathering difficult times. A time comes—and the last pages of this book provide the perfect time to discuss this—when your focus has to be on more than just getting yourself up the ladder or through the storm. At some point, you need to consider whether you are helping others across the bridge or through their own hard times. Extending a hand to others is more than a Good Samaritan cliché. There is reward for the giver, as well. An outward focus always leads to inward renewal.

Not everyone will find sustained success. Like most of us, some who have been on the bridge with you will encounter difficult times. This is where loyalty is required. There can be no toll on your bridge. You cannot exact a cost. And it must always remain open. Antoine Walker was a brash college athlete who helped us win a championship at Kentucky. He became a top-five draft choice of the Boston Celtics. I later coached him with that storied franchise, as well. Upon my return to college basketball, I became uneasy listening to all the stories about his gambling and lifestyle. It was a tragic story, one of $120 million squandered, though the story is not unique to Antoine.

“The lifestyle I set up for myself at age nineteen was the start of the problem,” he told Ricki Lake on her talk show in early 2013. “I set up my family in a certain lifestyle. I had a lot of friends. I traveled with seven or eight guys, and I wanted to help them. I was young and energetic. I wasn’t thinking about being smart with money at that time.”

Although our relationship was not as good when with the Celtics as it was at Kentucky, today the bridge must stay open to all. I’m trying to help Antoine both spiritually as well as in other areas. All stories can’t end with some magical path to success. We must never turn our back on those who helped us in life. Antoine helped me to a lifetime goal. I need to be there for him. I know firsthand that there will be many needing a hand to help cross that bridge. I have vowed to help all those willing to help themselves. Gifts are to be given without keeping score or wanting recognition. They are the most cherished things we have in our lives. The more people we can help cross that bridge, the more we understand the true meaning of building it.

One main facet of lending that hand to cross the bridge is forgiveness. In my early years, I would dismiss any athlete who didn’t return the loyalty shown to them. That was a shortcoming on my part. I didn’t understand the tremendous power of forgiveness. Today I’m armed with both the wisdom that allows me to see beyond those that travel a one-way street, and the experience to know that we all come up short at times. We all cross together as one regardless of our shortcomings. It’s when people are in need that we should look to come alongside them, not go the other way. I’ve told Antoine, I can’t fathom how a player could squander that amount of money. But loyalty transcends such things. When I heard Antoine say he would make his millions back in a syndicated TV show, I cringed at that statement. My hope is that he will get involved helping athletes avoid making the same mistakes he made, and help them cross that bridge to true prosperity. If he can do that, he will begin to capture so much more than the millions he hopes to regain. Building a bridge is about creating hope from despair, creating a road that will lead to true happiness.

One of my favorite instances of this came with a young man who had come to Louisville from Nigeria, Muhammed Lasege. His story was remarkable. He was so eager to find opportunity in this nation to play basketball that he signed on with some outfit in Russia that claimed to find foreign players spots at American universities, but instead mainly got those kids into Russia and took advantage of them, having them play on their club teams and intimidating them into doing what they wanted them to do. Somehow, Muhammed managed to get to this country and finally landed a spot at Louisville, before my arrival there. The NCAA, however, had other ideas. First it questioned his academics, but when he had nearly straight As during his first year at Louisville while he waited to be cleared to play, those questions were put to rest. Next, the NCAA said he broke rules by accepting improper benefits on his way to the United States. Now, Muhammed had never seen an NCAA rulebook, but by signing what he thought was a work agreement with the Russian club, he had, by the NCAA’s definition, signed a contract with an agent, and therefore was ruled permanently ineligible. Muahmmed sued and won the right to play for a time, but in the end the Kentucky Supreme Court sided with the NCAA, and his college career was over. I was his coach when that happened and I was astounded that the NCAA was not going to let a model student play basketball. I’m still disappointed by it. They said he had an “intent to professionalize.” No, his true intent was to play college basketball and receive an education in the United States.

But even after he could not play for our team, he remained one of our family. I was able, along with others in Louisville, to help him finish his education. He got a job working for Humana in Louisville. But when the U.S. cut the number of work visas issued one year, Muhammed learned that he was going to have to leave the country. At that point, I realized he needed help if he was going to continue his journey across that bridge, even after so promising a start. I told Muhammed it was time to put his basketball skills to work, and he did. He played in various countries, some in Europe, and made good money playing pro basketball in Iran. What was his goal? Not to play professional basketball, but to save up enough money so that when he returned to the United States, he could attend graduate school.

That’s just what he did. He came back to this country and was accepted into the prestigious Wharton School of Business at the University of Pennsylvania. The Ivy League admissions boards were impressed with how he had handled all the adversity sent his way by the NCAA, and were impressed with his willingness to do whatever it took to reach his goals. With that master’s degree in hand, Muhammed went to work as an executive for Exxon, and he remains there today with his wife and children in Houston, Texas. With his background in accounting, business, oil, and international finance, along with a humble, persevering spirit, he is well positioned for a lifetime of success. Even when the bridge appeared closed to him, it was important to me to help him find a way across, and he certainly displayed the character to remove the obstacle that was set before him, eventually turning it to his favor.

My bridge is crowded right now, with guys who have come through our program as players or coaches and learned lessons that have brought them success and, more importantly, happiness, over the years. In turn, many of them have brought many others across the bridge with them. Their success is their own. I was just a playmaker, handing out assists to help people reach their potential. But in the end, I’m not sure anything in life can give you more joy or satisfaction than helping people cross that bridge. This is the true end of all your efforts and striving. Right now in my office, I look at the NCAA championship trophy, sitting amid a pile of mail that has been sent to me by people, and feel great pride in our players and great memories of what we did. In the background, I look at all those smiling faces of coaches in the frame that Marvin Menzies sent me, and I feel satisfaction and contentment. The bridge is crowded, and it is good. When I finally retire someday, my life will be full rooting for all those people who helped me build my bridge, and I sincerely thank all of those who allowed me to cross with them.

It did not begin with me. As a sophomore in high school, I remember going to the Five-Star basketball camp. The camp only lasted one week, but it was like going to Carnegie Hall. I sat there as a camper and just reveled in the things these coaches were saying. It was like going to a concert and finding out what bands you liked the most. I was mesmerized by these coaches, but by four in particular. I was in awe of Hubie Brown’s strength of voice in commanding attention and covering every detail as if the world hinged on it. I was captivated by Dick Vitale’s passion and enthusiasm, and how he talked about his life. Bob Knight struck fear in every camper as he spoke. You were in fear that a basketball would come flying at your head if you dared let your eyes wander to something else—because it would. Chuck Daly came across as if he was a CEO, someone who had every hair in place and in total command of what he was talking about and what he was doing.

Today, I can see the influence of each of those men as my career unfolded. They were not yet giants in the profession. Only Knight was nationally known. But to me, they were rock stars. I took so much from Hubie Brown, from his preparation and attention to detail right down to his expressions. I took some of Dick Vitale’s passion and undying love of the game. I learned the importance of commanding the respect and attention of your players from Bob Knight. And I wanted to make the kind of impression that I had seen Chuck Daly make. When I took over at Boston University, all of those things were in my mind. To be voted into the Hall of Fame, where each of those men wait, is more than a little surreal to me. I made it across that bridge. I thank God that so many stand with me as I cross.

I’ve been lucky in my thirty-five years of coaching. The more I reach out to people, the more rewarding each day becomes. Loyalty does build trust and certainly forgiveness allows us to have a crowded bridge. I’m at peace today as a leader and it’s a wonderful gift that’s been given to me—a crowded bridge with so many stories of crossing. Nothing could be more rewarding. You can build that bridge for yourself, by learning from your mentors, and passing along your knowledge to those who are willing to cross that bridge with you.