Hoop Dreams 1

Those unafraid of a sappy feel-good story should stick around. Lack of knowledge of basketball will hinder your understanding of some of the story.

Yogi Berra: "In theory there is no difference between theory and practice. In practice there is."

Bob Seger: "The heart's a lonely hunter. It never quite feels safe. The devil's in the details. The thrill is in the chase."

= = = =

Is it cheating to use the loopholes in the rules for your benefit? Must be. I get accused of it all the time. There's something about the game of basketball that has a hold of my soul. Never able to play myself, because of a birth defect in my ankle, I studied the game to exhaustion as a teenager.

I started coaching young kids when I was only thirteen. For some reason the girls took to my approach more so than the boys. By the time I was a junior in high school my young ladies' club teams were winning state titles. Looking back, I'll admit it was weird. 'Hey mom, since you won't let me borrow the car, would you drive me to the gym so I can coach a state championship game!'

My name is Brady Collins and I'm the coach of the three-time defending state champion girl's high school basketball team. The Redmond Cardinals have not only won the last three titles but six out of the last eight.

Tonight is the championship game and we're facing the Eastview Elks. Four years ago, they beat us handily to win the title. We beat them the following year and then they missed the playoffs the last two years. But here we are again.

This year's team is very special to me because of one player. Helen has Down Syndrome but is a sweetheart. She's a senior and seniors aren't allowed to play on the junior varsity team. My choice was to cut her or give her a varsity jersey. She makes every practice and is more like the team manager than a player. While we practice plays over and over again, she's off to the side sinking free throws effortlessly. Nobody on the team can make more free throws in a row than Helen. When a former player, now a college all-conference player, dropped in to visit she boldly challenged anyone to a free throw contest. Helen beat her.

At the end of practice, I make the whole team run ten sprints. Next up is five more sprints but there's a catch. Who runs is determined by when Helen misses in ten free throw attempts. If she makes all ten nobody has to run the extra five, and that happens a lot. If she misses on an odd number attempt, the even numbered jerseys run. If she misses on an even number attempt, the odd numbered jerseys run. Half of the team is always rooting for her. Half of the team is always rooting against her. She has nerves of steel. Helen has the ability to soldier on regardless of the cheering or booing. I'm grooming her for something that may never happen.

Every practice, players have to challenge a teammate to a free throw contest. Winner watches the loser run five sprints. The previous day's losers get to pick first. Counting Helen, we have an odd number of players. She's never chosen. Some days, if a player is a no-show, someone is forced to choose Helen. She's always the last one chosen in that situation and rarely loses.

I've substituted Helen into a few games when we were up big. Although her teammates fed her the ball, opposing teams just stole it from her. Disgruntled coaches think I'm rubbing our runaway victory in their faces. Sometimes you can't win.

The advantages we have tonight are our reputation, playoff experience, and determination. Bruce Simons, the coach of the Elks, is not a fan of mine. He received a two-game suspension last year. I may have pushed him over the edge. When you're losing, some of my sarcastic jabs seem to hit a little too close to home.

We were playing the Elks in a mid-season round robin. They were sitting at four and five on the season while we were nine wins without a loss. Their up-and-coming star was a junior who was dangerous around the basket.

Now this isn't the sissy NBA where the rules change annually to protect the franchise players. This is real basketball. People pay bunches for their NBA tickets and having the marquee player stink it up or foul out doesn't generate goodwill or promote souvenir sales. Nowadays, when some aspects of the defensive rules are used to make a marquee player look bad, they change the rules. What they really need to do is quit keeping records. No way can you compare these players to the bad-boy era when fouls were only called if bones were broken.

Given that the Elks had one star player to deal with we planned on doing full court presses and another player shadowing their star. That not only runs the clock but generates turnovers. Six minutes into the first quarter we were up twenty-one to two. I kept the pressure on and Bruce went ballistic during a time out.

"Cut the crap Brady. You've got the better team so back off."

Responding quiet enough so that only he could hear "Bruce, my kids are simply doing what they've been coached to do. Apparently, so are yours."

When Bruce shoved me down (I may have flopped a bit), he got ejected and we sank the technical foul shots. At the start of the second quarter, I pulled the full court press off. We still ended up winning by thirty and my bench players got some playing time, including Helen.

Am I that good of a coach? Who knows. After you win a title, parents start moving their future Olympians inside your school's boundaries. Anymore I don't get the accolades for winning, but let me tell you about the grief I get if we lose. Still, I do have a few 'State Coach of the Year' plaques on my mantle and that award is voted on by the coaches.

For you aspiring coaches out there, follow the numbers. My assistants do a great job of keeping track of Net Points Per Minutes Played, Net Turnovers Per Minutes Played, and a handful of other combinations for every line-up in the game. The turnovers are the most important. Find that key player who might not score a bunch but they help their teammates become better players. Watch that girl. Learn from what she does. Teach your other girls to do what she does. Think Tom Brady, Derek Jeter, Pele, Larry Bird, Magic Johnson. Think Bill Russell. He led a lightly regarded San Francisco Dons to back-to-back NCAA championships in 1955 and 1956. He then led the Boston Celtics to eight straight NBA titles starting with the 1958-59 season and retired with eleven NBA titles in a thirteen season stretch. He elevated the play of those around him to unbelievable heights. Is there a lingering effect? The 1957 Dons made it back to the NCAA Final Four the year after Russell left, but lost. They've never been back. Find that player and your life will be so much easier.

The Elks gave us a hell of a game, for three quarters. Early in the fourth the wheels on their bus came off and off, off and off, off and off. We were up by fourteen with two minutes to go. Then my starters started screwing around. Turnovers and stupid fouls had me benching one starter after another. With six seconds left the Elks were within four and had the ball out of bounds after another careless turnover. Bruce used his final time-out before I had a chance to use mine.

My approach in a huddle is to kneel and have the girls standing. They are looking down at me rather than me acting superior. In a quiet and calm voice "Listen ladies, no fouls. Got it? NO fouls. Spread out along the three-point line. If they throw a pass that you can intercept, WITHOUT FOULING, grab it. We're going to let them score, but not a three. If you end up with the ball hang onto it. They'll foul you. DO NOT TRY TO PASS IT. Understood?"

I saw unanimous bobbleheads. It still took the Elks over four seconds to score an uncontested two-point layup as their wild three-point attempt bounced off of the rim. I used my final time-out to map our inbounds play. I correctly surmised that Bruce would put a pair of tall players on my girl attempting to throw the ball in. We had the full baseline to run so I tasked my fastest player to take the ball and sprint away from the tall players.

The Elks fouled immediately after the ball made it inbounds. Hardly any time off of the clock. My last remaining starter successfully caught the inbounds pass and cradled it like her life depended on it. When they fouled her, she immediately collapsed as if she'd been stabbed. She's always been drama queen and loves the attention. Being on the foul line would be her stage. I hurried over and made her stay down.

"I'm fine coach. I'll sink the free throws."

"That's okay. You acted injured so I can't take the chance."

"NO! Really coach! I'm not injured!"

"Good. Walk over and take a seat on the bench."

She stomped off towards the bench.

Here's where the rules get iffy. 'Rule 8.3.4: If a player is fouled and that player's coach believes that that player is unable to continue, the coach may substitute with any eligible player currently not in the game. The player entering the game will shoot any awarded free throws.' So, when the Elks fouled my player, and my player went into her 'I'm too injured to continue' routine, I benched her in favor of my best free throw shooter. That's how I interpreted the rules and the officials agreed. Not so much the Elks' fans.

"HELEN YOU'RE IN!"

Bruce was yelling at the official "SHE'S NOT INJURED. THIS IS A SHAM!"

When I wiped a non-existent tear from my eye, I thought Bruce was going to attack me again. He didn't though.

Helen was so excited she tipped her chair over trying to get her warm-up sweats off. I heard enough gasps from players and parents that I thought maybe Halon gas had been released into the gym. These fans are clueless so let them gasp. With a high-five I sent Helen lumbering towards the free throw line. All of the other players waited at mid-court. Some of my parents started in with the obnoxious cat calls aimed at me. I was an idiot for risking the title on this gambit. Their words were harsh and caused Helen's parents some unnecessary grief.

We were in the double-bonus, meaning we had two shots. Free throws are worth a point each, if made. This was an effing state championship game with two seconds on the clock and it was so unsportsmanlike that I felt sorry for Helen. The abusive language and taunting from the Elks' fans showed how classless they really were. Our half of the gym let out a collective sigh of relief when Helen scored the first point of her varsity career. It was quickly followed by raucous cheering and jeering. Some of the teenagers were mimicking how a Down Syndrome person acts. Like I said, classless. Oh wait, I know where they learned it. It's the new norm for politicians and comedians to degrade them.

The noise was almost unbearable before and after Helen scored the second and last point of her varsity career. She has a fond memory which no one can ever take away from her.

My players on the court were more interested in swarming Helen than playing defense. I certainly don't blame them.

Without a time-out the Elks scampered up the court and sank a three-point shot as time expired. One point is as good as a dozen. Four in a row state champions. First school in our state to accomplish that feat. Bruce was not a happy camper.

It's customary, after a game, to line up and do a walk-through touching hands with each opposing player and coach. The Elks' fans were throwing programs and cups onto the floor, along with insults. Several of the cups contained liquid making the situation dangerous.

Bruce extended his hand as did I. He squeezed as hard as he could. It hurt, but I wasn't about to let him know.

"Cheap trick Brady. This title is tainted."

"Really Bruce? Seems like you did the same thing in the quarterfinals two nights ago. Where do you think I learned it? Just saying."

"Bullshit asshole. I learned it from you!"

"Maybe next year buddy. Oh wait, that's right, you lose your all-state player."

Sensing hostilities, Martin, my athletic director broke us apart.

Helen's smile was worth it all. She even got her chance to snip a piece of the netting which is cut down by the winning team. My starters were none too pleased that Helen was getting the most attention. Piss on them. They blew a big lead with the game on the line. Life is tougher. Deal with it.

My girls climbed all over me. Having won so many I was composed and reserved. My star player, a senior, had four rings. Due to troubles along the way, only two other players would be graduating in the spring. One joined us as a junior, and she'd be missed too. And the other of course is Helen. Of the six freshman that made varsity four years ago: one dropped out; one got pregnant; two couldn't keep their grades up; and one moved away. Sadly, that's about how every graduating class goes.

The best hug came from Helen's parents. They had tears of joy in their eyes. It's moments like this that push all the grief to the background.

After the chaos calmed down, Martin snagged me with one of those manly arm around the shoulder hugs.

"That was a stupid decision at the end Brady. What the hell were you thinking?"

"Martin, shove it. I resign."

His jaw dropped and his eyes flew open wide.

"Brady, wait. I said that all wrong. I can't tell you how much you mean to this program."

I smiled, half-heartedly, before turning to mingle. First stop was the locker room where I congratulated the players and coaches. Then I left to do the mandatory Q&A sessions.

Four quick interviews, and about a hundred hugs and pecks on my cheek later, I sat down for the 'official' post-game interview.

Same old cliches. 'How's it feel?' 'How does this compare to your others?'

There was a young lady I'd not seen before. I singled her out for the next question.

"Coach, Myra Rivers, South Side Sentinel. Your team had a lot of turnovers near the end of the game. Care to comment?"

"Well Myra, I'm going to have to sit down with my assistant coaches. At the start of the season, I asked them to remove all of the plays designed to turn the ball over. Obviously, they missed a few."

She was madly scribbling on her legal pad as the room erupted in laughter. An older reporter explained it to her. She blushed and gave me an evil eye but was still smiling.

The next reporter asked "Was your player really injured at the end of the game?"

"Concussion protocol, you know. Would you risk a state title on someone who might be seeing stars? I doubt it. Next!"

Tony has a history of trying to embarrass me "Coach, those free throws at the end. How confident were you about your choice of players?"

"Tony, let me start by saying that my tolerance for idiots is extremely low these days. I used to have some immunity built up, but obviously there's a new strain out there. Failing to prepare is preparing to fail. Do you really believe that I didn't know what she was capable of? Wait, did you think I plucked her out of the stands and put a jersey on her? I made the choice that I thought had the best probability for our team to win the game. Refresh my memory. Did we win? I'll put Helen up against any female player in the country in a free throw contest. She's that good."

I certainly wasn't making it easy for these reporters who now seemed reluctant to raise their hands.

After fifteen minutes the interview was over. With more hugs and handshakes, it still took another hour before I finally made it to my car. Darkness joined this weary coach on his lonely ride home.

( * ) ( * )

On Tuesday, I sat across from Martin.

"Brady, I'm sorry for my outburst. I was out of line."

"Doesn't matter Martin. I'm stepping down as basketball coach and will be putting in for a transfer. Please keep it quiet until I personally inform the players."

The color drained from Martin's face. He was stuck for words. I waited patiently.

"Um, can I ask why?"

"I have some personal demons and for everyone's sake, this is the best solution. Roger's been my assistant for six years and is quite capable of leading the team."

"Are you having problems with a parent, or me?"

"Martin, it's a personal problem and is going to remain private. That's all I've got to say about it. I'm almost finished with the league and state All-Star paperwork. Expect it on your desk by tomorrow. Anything else?"

"What's it going to take to change your mind?"

I simply shook my head as I left.

Between classes, the school secretary blasted the announcement 'Girls' basketball mandatory meeting immediately after final bell in the practice gym.'

There were tears. School district guidelines prohibit me from returning the hugs. My hands stayed high the whole time. I made sure all of my coaches were present, just in case someone suggested I acted otherwise.

My comment, about putting Helen up against anyone, caught the attention of the Channel Six Prep Roundup. They approached Martin and myself to do a charity event for the benefit of Down Syndrome children. I talked it over with Helen and her parents. They were all for it.

It was structured like a normal school fundraiser. 'I'll pay so much for every...' The response was beyond anyone's dreams. Her female opponents were three college players and a recently retired professional player. Each contest was a best of twenty-five free throws. As you might expect, Helen went into her soldier of fortune persona. Shutting out all of the distractions she systematically eliminated each of her challengers. Everyone was rooting for Helen. She made all but two out of one-hundred free throws.

Only after it was over did her smile light up the gymnasium. She'd helped raise over one hundred grand for a good cause. The national nightly news did a little minute long feel-good story about her, which generated even more donations. Helen even ended up doing commercials for the benefactors of the fund-raising event. Who knew two free throws could do so much good for so many?

Over the next few months, I received many cards and letters begging me to stay. I know they were trying to help, but in reality, it made things worse. Sometimes you have to do what's right for someone other than yourself.

My inbox was filled with offers to coach but the right set of circumstances just weren't there.

My transfer went through after the school year was over. The AD at my new school immediately offered me the girls basketball head coaching job. I declined.

( * ) ( * )

My daughter Lisette is in the seventh grade. She's a decent basketball player but will have her work cut out getting varsity playing time at Redmond. She takes after her mother lacking both height and speed. Although tenacious as a defender she won't be able to keep up with the faster players. Speed rarely has a bad day.

Her step-sister Kaitlyn Harvard is an eighth-grader who stands a really good chance of not only making but starting varsity her freshman year. She's the real deal.

I'd fallen in love with Alice, Lisette's mother, when I landed my first job out of college. As the coach of an Under 16 nationally ranked club basketball team, during my junior and senior years in college, I was sought after by many high schools. Alice was with the district's legal team which negotiated my contract. She had no legal education, just doing the background checks and preparing the documents.

The lusty feelings were mutual and soon we were exclusive. The biggest difference between us was that I was content to be a coach and teacher while Alice wanted to live the good life.

Despite our differences we got engaged, married, and started a family. We had a lot of arguments after Lisette was born. It was always about money and status. When Lisette turned two Alice went back to work. After the cost of child care, we were getting a whopping two hundred a month more than before. We had many arguments about that, which I lost. Even if it meant Lisette would be raised by strangers, Alice wanted and needed adult conversations and adoration, and not just from me.