Thursday, June 26, 2008
Wednesday, June 25, 2008
Yay or Boo?
The Georgia Bulldogs play a deciding Game 3 of the College World Series tonight against Fresno State. The contest brings up an interesting question:As a Tennessee Vol, do I pull for or against the Dawgs?
On one hand, Georgia is an SEC school from the South whose championship brings extra bragging rights to the conference and area. Chances are I know something about the players on the team, be it their hometowns or high schools. I know UGA fans who would delight in the championship, so it makes sense to pull for happiness for my friends.
On the other hand, pulling for Georgia or any SEC rival goes against my Big Orange instincts. How can I pull against a team for 364 days of the year, then suddenly change my tune for one night? Being faithful to my wife for 364 days of the year does not do. It is a sin called adultery.
Not only am I committing an unnatural sin, I'm also subjecting myself to neighborly boasting. After the whipping the football and basketball Vols put on Georgia this year, the Dawgs are looking for a retort. An NCAA championship would be a nice comeback.
Another consideration is that this is baseball. Who cares about college baseball? I cannot name a single Tennessee Vol baseball player. I cannot name a single college baseball player. If Georgia wins the college baseball championship and no one cares, did they really win anything?
Hmm...
I'm going to watch the game tonight, but still haven't decided what I want to happen.
I do know this - I will be pulling for the Bulldogs.
Tuesday, June 24, 2008
Playing Hurt
Watching last night's Braves/Brewers game got me thinking about the most unspoken aspect about athletics - injuries.The Braves, picked by some to be World Series contenders, have been decimated by injuries this season. Smoltz, Hampton, Glavine, Soriano, Moylan, Chipper, Escobar, Kotsay, Diaz. The season has basically been ruined by tears, tweaks, strains, and pulls.
Meanwhile, the Brewers are playing great baseball behind ace pitcher Ben Sheets. Sheets is one of the game's greats, but injuries have plagued his entire career. Just yesterday I heard a baseball analyst mention the Brewers as Wild Card favorites, "as long as Ben Sheets stays healthy."
Success in sports is predicated on many factors. Strategy. Skill. Speed. We love to discuss these aspects of athletics. Games are won and lost because of these factors.
But what about injuries? Why don't we talk more about those?
For example, the most common cited reasons for the Lakers' loss in the NBA Finals were softness in the paint, the failure of the Triangle Offense against the Celtic defense, Phil Jackson's mishandling of the bench, and Lamar Odom no-showing the series.
But what about Andrew Bynum's absence? He would have solved the softness problem in the middle, taken the load off Lamar Odom, given the Lakers a post-up offense against the physical interior of Kendrick Perkins and P.J. Brown. He would have made a difference in the series.
To mention this, however, is to make an excuse. It is a legitimate one, but the reason both athletes and fans avoid mentioning injuries is because it sounds like whining. It is too easy as well. Who wants to read that the Braves' problems in one-run games is injuries in the bullpen? No, it must be young players, poor managing strategy and on-the-field breakdowns.
Injuries have derailed record-setting careers (Ken Griffey Jr.), Hall of Fame potential (Mark Prior and Kerry Wood) and team championships (Lakers). Yet, they are a largely unmentioned part of sports.
Monday, June 23, 2008
The Price You Pay
Friday's Chattanooga Times-Free Press featured an inspiring story about Ooltewah High School softball coach Norma Nelson's chaotic year.
Nelson's team captured the state softball championship in May - the highest of coaching highs. Earlier in the year, however, Nelson suffered the lowest of lows when a former student intentionally burned down her house with a firecracker. Nelson lost everything in the blaze, including her pet dog.
Nelson's story is an extreme example, but coaching in high school is not quite what it seems. From the outside looking in, coaching is a dream gig. You spend your days and nights on the playing field, breathing in fresh air, competing and strategizing, and devoting life to sport. Sure beats sitting in a cubicle.
It does, no doubt, It also, however, fails to live up to the outsider's view of it. Coaching is often a joyless task that involves breaking hearts, angering kids and parents and repeated failure. Look around major sports for a moment and list the coaches that seem truly happy. It is not easy.
Jeff Van Gundy is a glaring example of what coaching can do to you. Van Gundy emerged this NBA season as a hilarious color man with personality and terrific insights on ABC's broadcasts. As a coach, however, Van Gundy was a humorless worry-wort who looked to be on the brink of a nervous breakdown at any moment.
Coaching is often a joyless grind with lows, lows, an occasional high and then more lows. The occasional high keeps them coming back, like a strung out junkie coming back for one more dose of the addictive drug.
Why else would Coach Nelson continue at Ooltewah after her home was attacked by an angry student? Why wouldn't she take a desk job somewhere? Why wouldn't she find something with higher pay, fewer hours and no threat of arson?
There is a price you pay as a coach. It is the dirty looks from people you like, the accusations of dishonesty and deviance from jilted players and parents, the cold shoulders after losses and even sometimes after wins. In my coaching career, I have been accused by parents of favoritism, racism, stupidity and causing permanent psychological damage.
I have never had my home attacked. I have never worried about the safety of my wife, kids and pets. In my coaching days, I have never experienced anything this low.
I have also never won a state championship. The price you pay ought to earn you rewards and it does - friendships, satisfaction, excitement. For Norma Nelson, the reward this season was the pinnacle of her profession - a championship.
She certainly paid a heavy price for it.
Nelson's team captured the state softball championship in May - the highest of coaching highs. Earlier in the year, however, Nelson suffered the lowest of lows when a former student intentionally burned down her house with a firecracker. Nelson lost everything in the blaze, including her pet dog.
Nelson's story is an extreme example, but coaching in high school is not quite what it seems. From the outside looking in, coaching is a dream gig. You spend your days and nights on the playing field, breathing in fresh air, competing and strategizing, and devoting life to sport. Sure beats sitting in a cubicle.
It does, no doubt, It also, however, fails to live up to the outsider's view of it. Coaching is often a joyless task that involves breaking hearts, angering kids and parents and repeated failure. Look around major sports for a moment and list the coaches that seem truly happy. It is not easy.
Jeff Van Gundy is a glaring example of what coaching can do to you. Van Gundy emerged this NBA season as a hilarious color man with personality and terrific insights on ABC's broadcasts. As a coach, however, Van Gundy was a humorless worry-wort who looked to be on the brink of a nervous breakdown at any moment.
Coaching is often a joyless grind with lows, lows, an occasional high and then more lows. The occasional high keeps them coming back, like a strung out junkie coming back for one more dose of the addictive drug.
Why else would Coach Nelson continue at Ooltewah after her home was attacked by an angry student? Why wouldn't she take a desk job somewhere? Why wouldn't she find something with higher pay, fewer hours and no threat of arson?
There is a price you pay as a coach. It is the dirty looks from people you like, the accusations of dishonesty and deviance from jilted players and parents, the cold shoulders after losses and even sometimes after wins. In my coaching career, I have been accused by parents of favoritism, racism, stupidity and causing permanent psychological damage.
I have never had my home attacked. I have never worried about the safety of my wife, kids and pets. In my coaching days, I have never experienced anything this low.
I have also never won a state championship. The price you pay ought to earn you rewards and it does - friendships, satisfaction, excitement. For Norma Nelson, the reward this season was the pinnacle of her profession - a championship.
She certainly paid a heavy price for it.
Saturday, June 21, 2008
My Week On the Brink - Friday
My Week On the Brink concluded Friday afternoon with awards, goodbyes and exhaustion. After my two-hour trip home, I collapsed into a long nap that will throw off my sleep schedule for days. It is ironic that sitting around makes you the most tired, but that is what happened Friday.
Friday was Play Day. No learning stations, but lots of contests and games. We even allowed some full court scrimmages which the kids love and coaches hate (I'll get back to this in a moment). Because there is so much playing, the coaches spent much of the day keeping score and organizing rather than coaching. It also means we spend much of the day on our backsides rather than burning calories as drill instructors. It has taken 30 years to learn it, but nothing wears me out like doing nothing. My body does not like a day that does not include a little sweating and exercise. When I got home yesterday afternoon from my final day of camp, I was less celebratory and more sleepy.
Full court basketball is true basketball, but it quickly falls apart with 5th graders. They stop running up and down the floor, stop using any cuts or screens and stop passing the ball entirely. Rather than refereeing the contest like I was supposed to be, I spent most of the game yelling, "Move!" at stationary kids with frustrated faces about their lack of touches. Talk about driving me to the brink - the kid who refuses to budge to get open but then whines about not getting a pass drives this coach crazy.
The next step in this basketball regression is that since nobody is moving to get open, the kids start driving into multiple defenders to throw up terrible shots. This has several negative effects that demonstrate why coaches often prefer working in half court situations. The defense realizes that there is no passing, so they all chase the ball. Defensive principles - out the window. On top of that, since it is so rare to touch the ball in this setting, there emerges an "I'm going to get mine" mentality of taking a shot no matter how far away or defensively contested. You can see it on the face of the kid who has not had the ball in a while and suddenly comes upon it. The face says, "I don't care if all of you a**holes are wide open, I'm taking this shot and there is nothing you can do about it." Finally, with kids forcing drives into traffic, the games quickly becomes a whine-a-thon of, "That's a foul!" No referee, let alone coach pretending to be one, is going to call a foul when a player drives into four defenders, but that is tough to explain to an angry eleven-year old.
Much of the day was spent figuring out the Campers of the Week. Yes, more prizes. COTW is awarded to one kid in each group who "embraces the camp." It is kind of like porn - you know it when you see it. For my group, one kid was clearly the most competitive, encouraging and ready to try new things. There was one group with several worthy candidates and another without a real strong one. Of course, they all think they might win it. They cling to that one time they yelled, "You can do it, Ben" and forget about the time they refused to shake someone's hand after a game or threw food across the table at lunch. I caught one kid's eyes welling up after he did not get my award. The kid was probably my second choice, but he got upset with a teammate and refused to play in our cutthroat game for several minutes. At that point, minus the rest of the group openly rioting or denying the Holocaust, he was not going to win Camper of the Week.
One of Coach Stroupe's best touches is not getting trophies or plaques for the winners. Instead, the winners get basketballs and dribble glasses (you can see forward, but not down so as not to look at the ball while you dribble). The last thing these kids need is a meaningless trophy, but it is amazing how many of them cherish that basketball.
As much as I vent and complain about aspects of the camp, it usually succeeds in renewing my basketball batteries. I'm already thinking ahead to the up-coming season and what I want to focus upon after seeing new things from other coaches this week. The money, for me anyway, was minimal after filling up the Civic tank twice to get from Chattanooga to Knoxville, but much of the week is invaluable. Being around good kids. Being around good coaches. Being around the best sport known to man.
It almost sounds like I want to do it again, which explains, I guess, why I keep coming back to basketball camp year after year.
Friday was Play Day. No learning stations, but lots of contests and games. We even allowed some full court scrimmages which the kids love and coaches hate (I'll get back to this in a moment). Because there is so much playing, the coaches spent much of the day keeping score and organizing rather than coaching. It also means we spend much of the day on our backsides rather than burning calories as drill instructors. It has taken 30 years to learn it, but nothing wears me out like doing nothing. My body does not like a day that does not include a little sweating and exercise. When I got home yesterday afternoon from my final day of camp, I was less celebratory and more sleepy.
Full court basketball is true basketball, but it quickly falls apart with 5th graders. They stop running up and down the floor, stop using any cuts or screens and stop passing the ball entirely. Rather than refereeing the contest like I was supposed to be, I spent most of the game yelling, "Move!" at stationary kids with frustrated faces about their lack of touches. Talk about driving me to the brink - the kid who refuses to budge to get open but then whines about not getting a pass drives this coach crazy.
The next step in this basketball regression is that since nobody is moving to get open, the kids start driving into multiple defenders to throw up terrible shots. This has several negative effects that demonstrate why coaches often prefer working in half court situations. The defense realizes that there is no passing, so they all chase the ball. Defensive principles - out the window. On top of that, since it is so rare to touch the ball in this setting, there emerges an "I'm going to get mine" mentality of taking a shot no matter how far away or defensively contested. You can see it on the face of the kid who has not had the ball in a while and suddenly comes upon it. The face says, "I don't care if all of you a**holes are wide open, I'm taking this shot and there is nothing you can do about it." Finally, with kids forcing drives into traffic, the games quickly becomes a whine-a-thon of, "That's a foul!" No referee, let alone coach pretending to be one, is going to call a foul when a player drives into four defenders, but that is tough to explain to an angry eleven-year old.
Much of the day was spent figuring out the Campers of the Week. Yes, more prizes. COTW is awarded to one kid in each group who "embraces the camp." It is kind of like porn - you know it when you see it. For my group, one kid was clearly the most competitive, encouraging and ready to try new things. There was one group with several worthy candidates and another without a real strong one. Of course, they all think they might win it. They cling to that one time they yelled, "You can do it, Ben" and forget about the time they refused to shake someone's hand after a game or threw food across the table at lunch. I caught one kid's eyes welling up after he did not get my award. The kid was probably my second choice, but he got upset with a teammate and refused to play in our cutthroat game for several minutes. At that point, minus the rest of the group openly rioting or denying the Holocaust, he was not going to win Camper of the Week.
One of Coach Stroupe's best touches is not getting trophies or plaques for the winners. Instead, the winners get basketballs and dribble glasses (you can see forward, but not down so as not to look at the ball while you dribble). The last thing these kids need is a meaningless trophy, but it is amazing how many of them cherish that basketball.
As much as I vent and complain about aspects of the camp, it usually succeeds in renewing my basketball batteries. I'm already thinking ahead to the up-coming season and what I want to focus upon after seeing new things from other coaches this week. The money, for me anyway, was minimal after filling up the Civic tank twice to get from Chattanooga to Knoxville, but much of the week is invaluable. Being around good kids. Being around good coaches. Being around the best sport known to man.
It almost sounds like I want to do it again, which explains, I guess, why I keep coming back to basketball camp year after year.
Thursday, June 19, 2008
My Week On the Brink - Thursday
My Week on the Brink is winding down. Today at lunch, Coach Stroupe looked at all the coaches and said, "It's Thursday." We are all tired - tired of learning stations, tired of certain kids who continue to get on our nerves and just plain tired. Without meaning to sound too dramatic, being on your feet all day in charge of 60 campers does wear you out. I know that in the big scheme of things it is hardly manual labor, but we are all tired at this point.
The coaches this week are a solid group. It makes the whole week so much easier when the coaches are in complete control and keeping good order. Coach Stroupe runs camp like clockwork. Every minute is thought out and designed for the good of the camper. I cannot say the same for every basketball camp I have worked. Coach Mitchell is the former boys varsity coach and current girls middle school coach. He has been at Webb forever and knows his stuff. Coach K is the new boys varsity head coach. He is my age, played at Davidson and coached some in Sweden. I think we would be buddies if I lived in Knoxville and he did not work for a school that my school plays. There have already been a couple of conversations when we both stepped back before revealing too much about our program's respective philosophies. Brother Jim is the oddball coach of the camp. I have no idea what his credentials are, but his bald head and awful fashion sense provide some levity to the staff. Finally, we have a kid named Cameron Sharp who plays for Carson-Newman. He came to camp back when I first started working it and turned into a fantastic player. He is not tall, not too quick and not intimidating, but he was All-State at Halls in Knoxville and is a testament to where hard work will get you. All in all, I don't think there is a camp in East Tennessee that offers a better staff of coaches. That is why the camp is always full.
Today was "Favorite Team Shirt" day and, as you can guess since we're in Knoxville, the Vols were the most popular choice. I was pleasantly surprised to see several Chris Lofton jerseys on the campers. I don't wear jerseys because I'm a grown man, but if I did it would be a Chris Lofton one. There were also two Kevin Garnett Celtic jerseys on display which both looked to be fresh off the hanger. Something tells me those kids told Mom to drive them to Foot Locker to get a shirt for today's camp.
The highlight of the morning was a time-killing demonstration of a silly middle school game. We were waiting for some late arrivals, so Coach Stroupe showed them how to play some game called "Wah." I did not understand the rules at all, so don't ask. One of the kids demonstrating the game was least favorite camper. He routinely disrupts the drills at my learning station by walking right through the middle of them or by not realizing it is his turn. He is not a basketball player in any regard. He is, however, quite a "Wah" player. He was so over-the-top into this game that even some of the kids were laughing in an entertained-more-than-making-fun type of way. It might have been my favorite moment of the entire camp.
The big event of Thursday is the one-on-one tournament. There can be only one winner for each group, so that leaves 54 broken hearts. They all harbor hopes of winning it, not bothering to let reason or logic cast doubts on that happening. The worst player in my group was in tears after being eliminated from the loser's bracket. I guess that is admirable, but did he really think he might win it? What exactly were his expectations in this tournament?
Looking back, I think I was the same way as a kid. I can remember losing my mind about losing games in camp or with friends, but now I think about who I lost to and wonder what I was so upset about. One year at Ooltewah Camp, I lost to a freakish kid named Jason Green who was like 6'2 in the 5th grade (he never grew again). I was so upset about it. He drilled me like 16-0 and I took it hard. He was a full foot taller than me with a pretty decent mustache. Why did I have any hopes of winning? There is something charming about kids who are still naive enough to not recognize their shortcomings. There is plenty of time for that later in life.
The day ended with way too much 5 on 5 time before candy bars. The longer the scrimmages go, the more the kids push the foul limit. As informal referees, we only blow our whistles when someone is bloody or unconscious. If the games go on too long, the kids figure this out and just kill each other. I had to stop my game once today to address the fouling, but it only stopped because scrimmage time was over. At this age, they are completely Machiavellian in their playing - the ends justify the means. If fouling and pushing equals victory, foul and push. As Bobby "The Brain" used to say, it is only cheating if you get caught.
Friday is just hours away, so I'm off to bed to dream of all the things I'm going to buy with tomorrow's paycheck. Friday is usually a great day because the kids are all in suck-up mode to try to capture "Camper of the Week." Don't tell anyone, but my group winner is so obvious that I could have given it on Wednesday. My big job for tomorrow is to figure out his name.
The coaches this week are a solid group. It makes the whole week so much easier when the coaches are in complete control and keeping good order. Coach Stroupe runs camp like clockwork. Every minute is thought out and designed for the good of the camper. I cannot say the same for every basketball camp I have worked. Coach Mitchell is the former boys varsity coach and current girls middle school coach. He has been at Webb forever and knows his stuff. Coach K is the new boys varsity head coach. He is my age, played at Davidson and coached some in Sweden. I think we would be buddies if I lived in Knoxville and he did not work for a school that my school plays. There have already been a couple of conversations when we both stepped back before revealing too much about our program's respective philosophies. Brother Jim is the oddball coach of the camp. I have no idea what his credentials are, but his bald head and awful fashion sense provide some levity to the staff. Finally, we have a kid named Cameron Sharp who plays for Carson-Newman. He came to camp back when I first started working it and turned into a fantastic player. He is not tall, not too quick and not intimidating, but he was All-State at Halls in Knoxville and is a testament to where hard work will get you. All in all, I don't think there is a camp in East Tennessee that offers a better staff of coaches. That is why the camp is always full.
Today was "Favorite Team Shirt" day and, as you can guess since we're in Knoxville, the Vols were the most popular choice. I was pleasantly surprised to see several Chris Lofton jerseys on the campers. I don't wear jerseys because I'm a grown man, but if I did it would be a Chris Lofton one. There were also two Kevin Garnett Celtic jerseys on display which both looked to be fresh off the hanger. Something tells me those kids told Mom to drive them to Foot Locker to get a shirt for today's camp.
The highlight of the morning was a time-killing demonstration of a silly middle school game. We were waiting for some late arrivals, so Coach Stroupe showed them how to play some game called "Wah." I did not understand the rules at all, so don't ask. One of the kids demonstrating the game was least favorite camper. He routinely disrupts the drills at my learning station by walking right through the middle of them or by not realizing it is his turn. He is not a basketball player in any regard. He is, however, quite a "Wah" player. He was so over-the-top into this game that even some of the kids were laughing in an entertained-more-than-making-fun type of way. It might have been my favorite moment of the entire camp.
The big event of Thursday is the one-on-one tournament. There can be only one winner for each group, so that leaves 54 broken hearts. They all harbor hopes of winning it, not bothering to let reason or logic cast doubts on that happening. The worst player in my group was in tears after being eliminated from the loser's bracket. I guess that is admirable, but did he really think he might win it? What exactly were his expectations in this tournament?
Looking back, I think I was the same way as a kid. I can remember losing my mind about losing games in camp or with friends, but now I think about who I lost to and wonder what I was so upset about. One year at Ooltewah Camp, I lost to a freakish kid named Jason Green who was like 6'2 in the 5th grade (he never grew again). I was so upset about it. He drilled me like 16-0 and I took it hard. He was a full foot taller than me with a pretty decent mustache. Why did I have any hopes of winning? There is something charming about kids who are still naive enough to not recognize their shortcomings. There is plenty of time for that later in life.
The day ended with way too much 5 on 5 time before candy bars. The longer the scrimmages go, the more the kids push the foul limit. As informal referees, we only blow our whistles when someone is bloody or unconscious. If the games go on too long, the kids figure this out and just kill each other. I had to stop my game once today to address the fouling, but it only stopped because scrimmage time was over. At this age, they are completely Machiavellian in their playing - the ends justify the means. If fouling and pushing equals victory, foul and push. As Bobby "The Brain" used to say, it is only cheating if you get caught.
Friday is just hours away, so I'm off to bed to dream of all the things I'm going to buy with tomorrow's paycheck. Friday is usually a great day because the kids are all in suck-up mode to try to capture "Camper of the Week." Don't tell anyone, but my group winner is so obvious that I could have given it on Wednesday. My big job for tomorrow is to figure out his name.
Wednesday, June 18, 2008
My Week On the Brink - Wednesday
I predicted meltdowns yesterday and was proven prophetic today. There was tears, much whining and quite a bit of general unhappiness on Day #3 of camp.
How did I know it would happen? Here is how camp generally runs in the mind of a 6th grade camper: Day #1 is full of promise as the week will surely prove Mom right that I am really good at basketball; Day #2 still has promise because most of Day #1 was spent sitting around instead of showcasing my skills; Day #3 is the first realization that Mom is full of crap because I'm not any good at basketball; Day #4 is coming to terms with my lack of athletic skills, my lying Mother, and instead focusing on goofing off and having fun; Day #5 is desperation in the hopes of winning some kind of contest to salvage what little pride is still left after a week of camp and salvage my relationship with Mom.
So today was My Mom is Full of Crap Day. There were many contests and lots of playing. Sounds like fun, unless you are losing. The losers took it tough today. One kid in my group went down like Michael Spinks after catching an elbow to the cheek. The wounded camper was mostly upset about not getting the ball (it would help if he occasionally moved on offense), but the cheek assault was a good excuse to let out a week of bottled-up frustration.
The biggest challenge at summer camp is trying to keep enough order for the kids who want to improve while also giving room for the kids who just want to have fun. After all, this is not prison detail or anything. I cannot ask a kid to run laps or get up in his face for goofing off in a drill. That kid won't come back, will get his refund and I'll be out my share of his fee. At the same time, there are kids who get frustrated by the idiocy of groupmates who ruin everything with their silliness. It is a fine line to walk as camp coach.
My usual solution is to ignore the idiocy as much as possible and give lots of feedback to the kids who are really trying. I also try to keep everything moving so fast that there is little time for silliness. For example, my station is using two lines to do perimeter moves. One line simply passes the ball and then rebounds it. There is no point to this line at all, but it does give a job to someone who would otherwise be standing deep in a line. That kid would be likely to goof off if he/she was not about to take a turn as passer. I wish I could say it prevents all silliness, but it seems to at least limit it a bit.
I wish I had a solution for the whining, but I don't have a fix for that one yet.
"Can we do something else?"
"Can I be on Timmy's team?"
"What about my 1st amendment rights?"
Today I made the colossal mistake of suggesting shirts and skins after we forgot to grab jerseys for our scrimmage games. These self-conscious 5th graders were ready to riot if I made them disrobe to play basketball. Since when did 5th graders get self-conscious? One particular kid was glaring at me like he was Robespierre and I was Louis XVI. Obviously, I saved my head and sent someone to find the jerseys. From that point forward, the whining was incessant throughout the entire game. Fouls, passes, travels - you name it, they whined about it.
I know this all makes basketball camp sound like some cross between Lord of the Flies and that whitewater rafting movie with Kevin Bacon. Not the one with Meryl Streep; the other one where Bacon fell into a hole and had to be rescued by the very kids he had been picking on for the last hour.
Anyway, the reason it sounds like that is because it is. If parents could see the humiliation, discouragement and embarrassment their $150 is buying, they would sue us child abuse. So how come we have 60 campers showing up each day?
Two words: candy bars.
These kids put up with all the shame of basketball camp in the hopes of winning a Kit Kat bar. Win one - the day was a success. Come up short - take your Zoloff. The genius of this particular camp are the rules that a) you can only win one candy bar a day and b) you can only win a candy bar at a particular contest once per week. That pretty much guarantees everyone at least one candy bar during the course of the week. We have an Indian kid (Asian, not Native) this week who might be the most clueless camper I have ever encountered. He is going into the 4th grade, but looks just a little taller than Abby. Every once in a while, one of his shots gets high enough to hit the rim. Not go in, mind you. No, just hit the rim. Even he will win a candy bar this week. We'll rig a game of dribble tag for him or give him "Best Stretcher of the Day."
Each camp day ends with coaches' comments and candy bars. The kids sit down all fired up from the scrimmage's injustices, but walk away 10 minutes later with smiles and Reese's Cups.
Pretty simple concept - if the campers are unhappy, let them eat candy.
How did I know it would happen? Here is how camp generally runs in the mind of a 6th grade camper: Day #1 is full of promise as the week will surely prove Mom right that I am really good at basketball; Day #2 still has promise because most of Day #1 was spent sitting around instead of showcasing my skills; Day #3 is the first realization that Mom is full of crap because I'm not any good at basketball; Day #4 is coming to terms with my lack of athletic skills, my lying Mother, and instead focusing on goofing off and having fun; Day #5 is desperation in the hopes of winning some kind of contest to salvage what little pride is still left after a week of camp and salvage my relationship with Mom.
So today was My Mom is Full of Crap Day. There were many contests and lots of playing. Sounds like fun, unless you are losing. The losers took it tough today. One kid in my group went down like Michael Spinks after catching an elbow to the cheek. The wounded camper was mostly upset about not getting the ball (it would help if he occasionally moved on offense), but the cheek assault was a good excuse to let out a week of bottled-up frustration.
The biggest challenge at summer camp is trying to keep enough order for the kids who want to improve while also giving room for the kids who just want to have fun. After all, this is not prison detail or anything. I cannot ask a kid to run laps or get up in his face for goofing off in a drill. That kid won't come back, will get his refund and I'll be out my share of his fee. At the same time, there are kids who get frustrated by the idiocy of groupmates who ruin everything with their silliness. It is a fine line to walk as camp coach.
My usual solution is to ignore the idiocy as much as possible and give lots of feedback to the kids who are really trying. I also try to keep everything moving so fast that there is little time for silliness. For example, my station is using two lines to do perimeter moves. One line simply passes the ball and then rebounds it. There is no point to this line at all, but it does give a job to someone who would otherwise be standing deep in a line. That kid would be likely to goof off if he/she was not about to take a turn as passer. I wish I could say it prevents all silliness, but it seems to at least limit it a bit.
I wish I had a solution for the whining, but I don't have a fix for that one yet.
"Can we do something else?"
"Can I be on Timmy's team?"
"What about my 1st amendment rights?"
Today I made the colossal mistake of suggesting shirts and skins after we forgot to grab jerseys for our scrimmage games. These self-conscious 5th graders were ready to riot if I made them disrobe to play basketball. Since when did 5th graders get self-conscious? One particular kid was glaring at me like he was Robespierre and I was Louis XVI. Obviously, I saved my head and sent someone to find the jerseys. From that point forward, the whining was incessant throughout the entire game. Fouls, passes, travels - you name it, they whined about it.
I know this all makes basketball camp sound like some cross between Lord of the Flies and that whitewater rafting movie with Kevin Bacon. Not the one with Meryl Streep; the other one where Bacon fell into a hole and had to be rescued by the very kids he had been picking on for the last hour.
Anyway, the reason it sounds like that is because it is. If parents could see the humiliation, discouragement and embarrassment their $150 is buying, they would sue us child abuse. So how come we have 60 campers showing up each day?
Two words: candy bars.
These kids put up with all the shame of basketball camp in the hopes of winning a Kit Kat bar. Win one - the day was a success. Come up short - take your Zoloff. The genius of this particular camp are the rules that a) you can only win one candy bar a day and b) you can only win a candy bar at a particular contest once per week. That pretty much guarantees everyone at least one candy bar during the course of the week. We have an Indian kid (Asian, not Native) this week who might be the most clueless camper I have ever encountered. He is going into the 4th grade, but looks just a little taller than Abby. Every once in a while, one of his shots gets high enough to hit the rim. Not go in, mind you. No, just hit the rim. Even he will win a candy bar this week. We'll rig a game of dribble tag for him or give him "Best Stretcher of the Day."
Each camp day ends with coaches' comments and candy bars. The kids sit down all fired up from the scrimmage's injustices, but walk away 10 minutes later with smiles and Reese's Cups.
Pretty simple concept - if the campers are unhappy, let them eat candy.
Tuesday, June 17, 2008
My Week On the Brink - Tuesday
The monotony of basketball camp has set in...and it is only Tuesday.
After another two hours of Scott McClellan, whose voice is not the best caffeine in the morning, I rolled into camp for another day of basketball. Tuesday always moves along more quickly which is both good and bad. The good is that the day goes by faster as it is jam-packed with activities. The bad is that there is less time to relax and enjoy the other coaches because every minute demands a camper's attention.
One of my duties is to stretch the campers. I earned this privilege during my first year as camp coach back in the 1990s and have done it every camp since. My trick? Fun counting. We count up to 12, down from 12, by two's, in Spanish, increasing volume, etc. The little kids love it; the other kids put up with it. I stole the idea from another camp I worked in high school, but nobody knows that in Knoxville.
Speaking of getting credit for things not mine, we did a drill today called the "Carpenter Drill." I'm serious. There are not too many drills named after people - Mikan Drill, Dantley Drill and Carpenter Drill. It is not mine either - I got it out of a Five Star Basketball book - but Coach Stroupe loved it and named it after me. The drill is simple - lay-up, run to free throw line, lay-up, run to free throw line, etc. I call it the Hustle Drill; at camp we call it the Carpenter Drill.
Today's learning station was using a change of pace to beat the defender. I even delved into my bag of basketball tricks to show them some subtle ways to trick their defender. Kids are funny - they cannot do the simple things you ask of them, but insist on trying difficult things that really good high school players cannot do. I asked them to dribble toward the defender (a trash can) slowly, then burst past (change of pace). A few of them decided that was beneath them and tried behind-the-back or spin moves instead. I asked one kid what he was doing and he replied, "I'm trying to challenge myself." The kid cannot hit the rim on a lay-up, but he wants to challenge himself with a behind-the-back move. Classic.
The coaches spent lunch debating Terrance Oglesby's shot selection for Clemson. If I could shoot like that kid, I wouldn't pass either. That was my two cents.
The afternoon was all about playing. 3 on 3, 4 on 4 no dribble and 4 on 4 live. Tempers flare and fundamentals are forgotten once we start playing real games. I had to stop the action a few times to settle disputes (usually between teammates) and correct bad play. The main goal with my group (the D group - you can guess how good they are) is to get them to move without the basketball. I yell "cut" over and over throughout the action at kids who are standing in one spot asking for the ball. Hopefully by Friday they figure it out.
Today's camp comments came from Sun Tzu (told you) about deceiving an opponent in war. They were a bit rushed today because we were running late and, frankly, they were not by best. The varsity head coach did a better job than me, though he piggy-backed off my previous days remarks. Plagiarism.
Tomorrow is Hump Day. Someone will melt down tomorrow - guaranteed.
After another two hours of Scott McClellan, whose voice is not the best caffeine in the morning, I rolled into camp for another day of basketball. Tuesday always moves along more quickly which is both good and bad. The good is that the day goes by faster as it is jam-packed with activities. The bad is that there is less time to relax and enjoy the other coaches because every minute demands a camper's attention.
One of my duties is to stretch the campers. I earned this privilege during my first year as camp coach back in the 1990s and have done it every camp since. My trick? Fun counting. We count up to 12, down from 12, by two's, in Spanish, increasing volume, etc. The little kids love it; the other kids put up with it. I stole the idea from another camp I worked in high school, but nobody knows that in Knoxville.
Speaking of getting credit for things not mine, we did a drill today called the "Carpenter Drill." I'm serious. There are not too many drills named after people - Mikan Drill, Dantley Drill and Carpenter Drill. It is not mine either - I got it out of a Five Star Basketball book - but Coach Stroupe loved it and named it after me. The drill is simple - lay-up, run to free throw line, lay-up, run to free throw line, etc. I call it the Hustle Drill; at camp we call it the Carpenter Drill.
Today's learning station was using a change of pace to beat the defender. I even delved into my bag of basketball tricks to show them some subtle ways to trick their defender. Kids are funny - they cannot do the simple things you ask of them, but insist on trying difficult things that really good high school players cannot do. I asked them to dribble toward the defender (a trash can) slowly, then burst past (change of pace). A few of them decided that was beneath them and tried behind-the-back or spin moves instead. I asked one kid what he was doing and he replied, "I'm trying to challenge myself." The kid cannot hit the rim on a lay-up, but he wants to challenge himself with a behind-the-back move. Classic.
The coaches spent lunch debating Terrance Oglesby's shot selection for Clemson. If I could shoot like that kid, I wouldn't pass either. That was my two cents.
The afternoon was all about playing. 3 on 3, 4 on 4 no dribble and 4 on 4 live. Tempers flare and fundamentals are forgotten once we start playing real games. I had to stop the action a few times to settle disputes (usually between teammates) and correct bad play. The main goal with my group (the D group - you can guess how good they are) is to get them to move without the basketball. I yell "cut" over and over throughout the action at kids who are standing in one spot asking for the ball. Hopefully by Friday they figure it out.
Today's camp comments came from Sun Tzu (told you) about deceiving an opponent in war. They were a bit rushed today because we were running late and, frankly, they were not by best. The varsity head coach did a better job than me, though he piggy-backed off my previous days remarks. Plagiarism.
Tomorrow is Hump Day. Someone will melt down tomorrow - guaranteed.
Monday, June 16, 2008
My Week On the Brink - Monday
This week I'm driving to Knoxville every day for the one week of the summer I dread - basketball camp week. Basketball camp is a necessary evil for basketball coaches across the country. The reason is simple - easy money. There are lines of kids who want to spend a week of their summer playing hoops and a line of parents ready to cipher their kids off to anyone else. They pay big bucks for the week in a deal that works out well for them (cheap baby-sitting) and us (summer stipend).
What is there to dread? Basketball camps tend to be pretty dull affairs. Most camps are for players in their middle school years who lack the basic fundamentals. While it is vital to teach these basics, it is also boring. I have taught the same footwork station at this particular camp at least a dozen times, five or six times a day. It is like Groundhog's Day (which happens to be my friend Glenn's favorite movie...weird) without the Sonny and Cher.
Rather than endure the week alone, I'm going to take you, the reader, deep inside the workings of a rising 4th-6th grade basketball camp. In the spirit of John Feinstein's classic A Season on the Brink about a season of Indiana Hoosier basketball, I bring you My Week On the Brink at basketball camp.
After an easy hour & forty-five minute drive to the sweet sounds of Scott McClellan's audio book, I arrived for Monday's camp session. The first day of basketball camp is the easiest day unless you are in charge. I'm not in charge this week - that responsibility belongs to my coaching mentor Elliott Stroupe. In many ways, he is the Bobby Knight of our Week on the Brink. He is a veteran coach in Knoxville, a stubborn, set-in-his-ways, my-way-or-highway kind of coach that doesn't put up with much from administrators, fellow coaches, referees or parents. He would have been run out of town long ago except for two things - he can really coach and he is great with kids. Coach Stroupe's Monday is a hectic one of organization, tweaking and decisions. He spent most of today's lunch walking around the cafeteria making sure nobody was eating alone while the rest of us coaches enjoyed our stale tacos and soggy corn.
Back to my easy day, the rest of the coaching staff spends most of Monday waiting around for the organizer to make decisions. Who belongs in which group? How much time will we need now that we are behind schedule? Where are the t-shirts? Who is this kid that just showed up at 11:30 in a "Computer Camp" shirt? These types of decisions belong to one man and it isn't me. He is the Decider. I am the Follower. It pays less to be the Follower, but it is a much easier gig.
The morning began with about 30 minutes of "knockout" (a classic basketball camp game that every kid knows, expects and loves) while we waiting for stragglers and late registries. We finally get together around 9:15 to go over introductions and camp basics. Having worked so many of these camps, I can finish just about every sentence out of Coach Stroupe's mouth. Every year, for some reason only he knows, he explains how the gym is air-conditioned using a "geo-thermal tap." Every year. Why? Beats me.
From introductions we enter into the evaluation stage of camp. This is where things get good. We try to group kids by ability so there is an A group (best players) through F group (young kids with no clue). Dreams are shattered by 10:00 a.m. at basketball camp when kids realize that they are not making the A group...or the B group...or the C group. Parents who paid $150 for their kid to have improved self-esteem got ripped off.
Picking groups takes forever. There are lots of little considerations we try to take into account, like not having one girl in a group or one 5th grader, but there is no making everyone happy. Coach Stroupe will have emails and phone messages tonight about how Jimmy wants to be in Tony's group. Again, there are advantages to working camp rather than running camp.
Finally, groups are picked and camp can really begin. The heart of any good basketball camp is the learning stations. The campers come to play games and make friends, but the value is in the stations. As a coach, this is easily the most fun part of the day as I get to impart my knowledge to eager learners.
Okay, there are only about 5 eager learners. There are about 45 campers who tolerate the stations to get to the games and contests. The other 10 campers goof off through the stations and can ruin them.
My station this week is Perimeter Moves to the Basket. The kids all picture a bunch of And1 moves like they seem from The Professor and Skip To My Lou, but their inability to dribble twice without looking down at the ball limits our ability to do freestyle moves. Instead, we worked today on getting low to breeze past defenders. I mentioned Paul Pierce's ability to drive past Laker defenders because he gets low. They stared at me with blank looks. So much for my "Be Like Paul Pierce" theme for the week.
After stations, it is time for lunch. I am a sucker for free food and always put too much food on my plate. Don't worry - it all gets eaten, but I am useless for the rest of the day. The coaches spend lunch venting about which kids are already driving them crazy, but also which ones have promise or are just nice kids. We laughed today about "PIFers" who are killing our drills; PIFers are Paid In Full kids who are terrible, but, well, paid in full.
Post-lunch starts with a lesson from Coach Stroupe about how to shoot an off-handed lay-up. This is Coach at his best - teaching impressionable youngsters the basic skills of the game. Unlike some coaches who can breakdown every offense or defense known to man, but cannot teach the fundamentals in an understandable way, Coach has the volunteer shooter slowly taking baby steps on his way to properly shooting a proper lay-up. Within 5 minutes, the kid is jumping off the proper foot and using his left-hand to throw the ball off the glass. Coach Stroupe is not a miracle worker (he ain't no miracle man) so the kid is not making the left-handed lay-ups yet, but he is well on his way.
We break back into groups to work on these lay-ups for a while before finally playing some actual games. You might think this would be the best part of the day for coaches - wrong. The good side of the games is that we mostly just sit back and call an occasional foul, so it is pretty relaxing. Why aren't we giving instructions on proper plays and such? At 1:00, the campers just want to play and not listen to us anymore. Today I stopped the action to explain how a simple screen away from the ball would get someone open and start an offense, but it was only used once by a kid who in all likelihood just ran into someone on accident.
The games are usually 3 on 3 or 4 on 4 in the half court. Running full court is a recipe for disaster as the worst players never touch the ball and kids quit running as soon as they get tired. It is camp, after all, why push yourself? We play 3 on 3 with no dribbles to teach cutting (which works) and screening (see previous paragraph). Once we allow them to dribble again, all the cutting is out the window. My favorite campers are the ones who dribble just for the thrill of it. They are not going anywhere with the ball - no purpose or rhyme to their dribbling. They often go straight backwards with it. They don't care. They just want to have the ball for a while and feel like a real basketball player. God bless 'em.
Camp winds down with final remarks from all the coaches before we hand out candy bars to contest winners and Campers of the Day (the kids who tried hardest or did something especially admirable). I get competitive about these talks and want mine to be the best. Today, I busted out Neil Armstrong, JFK and Lil' Jon in my closing remarks about getting low to get to the basket. Not bad, huh? I'm already thinking about tomorrow's talk. I'm thinking some Sun Tzu wisdom or perhaps Plato's Allegory of the Cave.
The day is done and the coaches make a mad dash for the door. I have mastered the "I'm in a hurry to get somewhere" post-camp walk to avoid talking to parents. It is not that I don't want to talk to them, it is, well, I don't want to talk to them. Picture a bunch of country club moms and dads with cell phones against their ears wanting to find out what their kid can do to make the team next year. Chances are that I worked with that kid for two minutes throughout the day, but if I say that it looks like their kid isn't getting quality attention. Nope, I just jiggle my keys, look at my watch and bust it to the car.
Punch in, punch out.
What is there to dread? Basketball camps tend to be pretty dull affairs. Most camps are for players in their middle school years who lack the basic fundamentals. While it is vital to teach these basics, it is also boring. I have taught the same footwork station at this particular camp at least a dozen times, five or six times a day. It is like Groundhog's Day (which happens to be my friend Glenn's favorite movie...weird) without the Sonny and Cher.
Rather than endure the week alone, I'm going to take you, the reader, deep inside the workings of a rising 4th-6th grade basketball camp. In the spirit of John Feinstein's classic A Season on the Brink about a season of Indiana Hoosier basketball, I bring you My Week On the Brink at basketball camp.
After an easy hour & forty-five minute drive to the sweet sounds of Scott McClellan's audio book, I arrived for Monday's camp session. The first day of basketball camp is the easiest day unless you are in charge. I'm not in charge this week - that responsibility belongs to my coaching mentor Elliott Stroupe. In many ways, he is the Bobby Knight of our Week on the Brink. He is a veteran coach in Knoxville, a stubborn, set-in-his-ways, my-way-or-highway kind of coach that doesn't put up with much from administrators, fellow coaches, referees or parents. He would have been run out of town long ago except for two things - he can really coach and he is great with kids. Coach Stroupe's Monday is a hectic one of organization, tweaking and decisions. He spent most of today's lunch walking around the cafeteria making sure nobody was eating alone while the rest of us coaches enjoyed our stale tacos and soggy corn.
Back to my easy day, the rest of the coaching staff spends most of Monday waiting around for the organizer to make decisions. Who belongs in which group? How much time will we need now that we are behind schedule? Where are the t-shirts? Who is this kid that just showed up at 11:30 in a "Computer Camp" shirt? These types of decisions belong to one man and it isn't me. He is the Decider. I am the Follower. It pays less to be the Follower, but it is a much easier gig.
The morning began with about 30 minutes of "knockout" (a classic basketball camp game that every kid knows, expects and loves) while we waiting for stragglers and late registries. We finally get together around 9:15 to go over introductions and camp basics. Having worked so many of these camps, I can finish just about every sentence out of Coach Stroupe's mouth. Every year, for some reason only he knows, he explains how the gym is air-conditioned using a "geo-thermal tap." Every year. Why? Beats me.
From introductions we enter into the evaluation stage of camp. This is where things get good. We try to group kids by ability so there is an A group (best players) through F group (young kids with no clue). Dreams are shattered by 10:00 a.m. at basketball camp when kids realize that they are not making the A group...or the B group...or the C group. Parents who paid $150 for their kid to have improved self-esteem got ripped off.
Picking groups takes forever. There are lots of little considerations we try to take into account, like not having one girl in a group or one 5th grader, but there is no making everyone happy. Coach Stroupe will have emails and phone messages tonight about how Jimmy wants to be in Tony's group. Again, there are advantages to working camp rather than running camp.
Finally, groups are picked and camp can really begin. The heart of any good basketball camp is the learning stations. The campers come to play games and make friends, but the value is in the stations. As a coach, this is easily the most fun part of the day as I get to impart my knowledge to eager learners.
Okay, there are only about 5 eager learners. There are about 45 campers who tolerate the stations to get to the games and contests. The other 10 campers goof off through the stations and can ruin them.
My station this week is Perimeter Moves to the Basket. The kids all picture a bunch of And1 moves like they seem from The Professor and Skip To My Lou, but their inability to dribble twice without looking down at the ball limits our ability to do freestyle moves. Instead, we worked today on getting low to breeze past defenders. I mentioned Paul Pierce's ability to drive past Laker defenders because he gets low. They stared at me with blank looks. So much for my "Be Like Paul Pierce" theme for the week.
After stations, it is time for lunch. I am a sucker for free food and always put too much food on my plate. Don't worry - it all gets eaten, but I am useless for the rest of the day. The coaches spend lunch venting about which kids are already driving them crazy, but also which ones have promise or are just nice kids. We laughed today about "PIFers" who are killing our drills; PIFers are Paid In Full kids who are terrible, but, well, paid in full.
Post-lunch starts with a lesson from Coach Stroupe about how to shoot an off-handed lay-up. This is Coach at his best - teaching impressionable youngsters the basic skills of the game. Unlike some coaches who can breakdown every offense or defense known to man, but cannot teach the fundamentals in an understandable way, Coach has the volunteer shooter slowly taking baby steps on his way to properly shooting a proper lay-up. Within 5 minutes, the kid is jumping off the proper foot and using his left-hand to throw the ball off the glass. Coach Stroupe is not a miracle worker (he ain't no miracle man) so the kid is not making the left-handed lay-ups yet, but he is well on his way.
We break back into groups to work on these lay-ups for a while before finally playing some actual games. You might think this would be the best part of the day for coaches - wrong. The good side of the games is that we mostly just sit back and call an occasional foul, so it is pretty relaxing. Why aren't we giving instructions on proper plays and such? At 1:00, the campers just want to play and not listen to us anymore. Today I stopped the action to explain how a simple screen away from the ball would get someone open and start an offense, but it was only used once by a kid who in all likelihood just ran into someone on accident.
The games are usually 3 on 3 or 4 on 4 in the half court. Running full court is a recipe for disaster as the worst players never touch the ball and kids quit running as soon as they get tired. It is camp, after all, why push yourself? We play 3 on 3 with no dribbles to teach cutting (which works) and screening (see previous paragraph). Once we allow them to dribble again, all the cutting is out the window. My favorite campers are the ones who dribble just for the thrill of it. They are not going anywhere with the ball - no purpose or rhyme to their dribbling. They often go straight backwards with it. They don't care. They just want to have the ball for a while and feel like a real basketball player. God bless 'em.
Camp winds down with final remarks from all the coaches before we hand out candy bars to contest winners and Campers of the Day (the kids who tried hardest or did something especially admirable). I get competitive about these talks and want mine to be the best. Today, I busted out Neil Armstrong, JFK and Lil' Jon in my closing remarks about getting low to get to the basket. Not bad, huh? I'm already thinking about tomorrow's talk. I'm thinking some Sun Tzu wisdom or perhaps Plato's Allegory of the Cave.
The day is done and the coaches make a mad dash for the door. I have mastered the "I'm in a hurry to get somewhere" post-camp walk to avoid talking to parents. It is not that I don't want to talk to them, it is, well, I don't want to talk to them. Picture a bunch of country club moms and dads with cell phones against their ears wanting to find out what their kid can do to make the team next year. Chances are that I worked with that kid for two minutes throughout the day, but if I say that it looks like their kid isn't getting quality attention. Nope, I just jiggle my keys, look at my watch and bust it to the car.
Punch in, punch out.
Sunday, June 15, 2008
Tiger Style
The most underrated golfer on the planet is Tiger Woods. We all know he is the greatest golfer of his generation and the most clutch performer down the stretch. He already has a reel of highlights as long as any athlete, let alone golfer, in sports history. He is an endorsement machine and multi-billionaire.And underrated.
The guy is otherworldly. This weekend at the U.S. Open, the toughest test in golf thanks to the high rough, super-fast greens and brutally long layout, Tiger Woods played under par golf for 72 holes on a bad left knee that required surgery six weeks ago. He winced in pain throughout the four days of competition while playing in the most celebrated Thursday/Friday pairing in recent memory (alongside World #2 and hometown hero Phil Mickelson and World #3 Adam Scott), charging into the lead on Saturday and then sinking the final putt of the final round to force a Monday playoff.
It was a career-defining performance for mere mortals, but just another major championship for Tiger Woods. The guy has already won The Masters by 12 strokes, completed the Tiger Slam of four consecutive major championships and conquered the 2006 British Open just months after the emotional loss of his father. This weekend is a line on his resume, not the entire resume itself.
Regardless of whether Tiger or Rocco Mediate prevails during tomorrow's 18-hole playoff, this tournament was Tiger's U.S. Open. What is most amazing about it is how routine it all seemed: opening with a double-bogey on the bad knee, but rallying afterwards to stay in contention on Thursday; making a charge on the back nine Friday evening with a terrific and painful approach on the par-5 18th; the bombs for eagle on 13 and 18 on Saturday and finally the wedge from the rough and birdie putt to force the playoff.
Just another day in the career of Tiger Woods.
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