Guest Posts on County 10 are provided by contributors and the opinions, thoughts, and comments within are their own and may not necessarily reflect those of County 10.
It was the 2000 Class 1-A / 2-A state tournament. That season, Casper College was busy with Region IX JUCO basketball, as it is occasionally, and the semi-finals for Class 1-A were held at the old Kelly Walsh Gym.
Little Snake River, under legendary head boys’ coach Ed Reed was in a battle with Southeast Goshen. Ed needed a timeout late in the game, but didn’t have any. He was a cagy coach, and on one loose ball near mid-court, he stood up, turned, and looked at his team as the boys on the bench stood as well.
The opposing coach, Glenn Freeburg, thinking Little Snake River had called a timeout, called his team in. Snake River didn’t have one, but everyone in the gym thought they did.
As confused officials approached the bench, Ed walked out to meet them. “Did he call a timeout?” Ed said, pointing toward the Southeast bench.
Glenn was confused, thinking Ed had called one, but the officials weren’t signaling a timeout.
Meanwhile, Ed’s assistant had a whiteboard out, quickly outlining a play.
After about 45 seconds, the officials said to put the ball in play.
Ed tucked his shirt into his pants with a big grin on his face and sat down on the bench; he’d gotten away with one.
The Rattlers came from behind with a full-court press and edged the Cyclones 57-55, then won the state championship on the floor of the Casper Events Center the next night.
Coaches, good coaches, do memorable things and they have adages that last for generations.
The late Dick Cotton, coach at St. Stephen’s and Shoshoni late in his career, had many memorable statements. When asked about his team quickness, Cotton had this to say, “We have pedestrian speed. We look both ways before we cross the street, just to compensate.”
Good advice from a memorable coach to thousands of young men and women.
He had another comment about this same group of boys.
“We move like porcupines making love, we’re very deliberate so no one gets hurt.”
The “King of Comments” was my late friend and fellow coach, Harold Bailey; he had a bucket of them and was always willing to share.
When the starting unit kept screwing up a simple play Harold offered this gem, “You guys are so dumb, your class won’t have a valedictorian.”
A few plays later, one of the seniors came over to me and asked, “Is that really possible?”
I said, “You just proved it.”
Harold’s favorite line when we were ahead at the half, came in the locker room.
“You guys really think you’re doing something, don’t you?” he’d say as he opened a detailed breakdown of missed blocks, blown tackles, and missed opportunities.
The boys didn’t think they were “doing something” after his expected halftime tirade. It was brilliant.
One game, when Harold was my junior varsity coach, we had three traveling calls when the boys took an extra step while making a jump shot. Little things bothered Harold a lot, the big things not so much. One of his famous sayings reflected that, “Worry about the little things, the big things will take care of themselves.”
One winter evening at a home game, Harold was furious at the younger guys and those three traveling calls.
He decided to demonstrate a jump stop right there in the locker room. The problem was, we had a freshman game before the junior varsity tilt, and the floor was still wet from the ninth graders showering after the game.
Harold took three quick steps, jumped into the air, and came down to demonstrate a jump stop. Only he didn’t stop, he hit the water pooled up near one of the benches and slipped, falling on his back and sliding into the lockers.
It was hilarious, but I choked back a laugh and made eye contact with the boys with a look that said, “Don’t move, don’t talk, don’t laugh, don’t say anything.”
The boys probably already knew, but we had a full conversation with just a quick look that night, and none of them laughed.
After Harold was through addressing the team, I walked with him back down the tunnel to the gym. I could hear the boys break out laughing as we entered the gym.
It was a memorable moment.
A timely comment, even a wink or a pat on the back, can make a difference in a game. If you have confidence in your players, you let them play.
All a coach can do is put his or her best player in a position to win the game. And if they don’t, that’s a lesson too, a lesson the player will remember for the rest of their life.
A final note on days gone by in the coaching ranks. I was with Dick Cotton and Chuck Wells at the Mesa State team camp in Grand Junction one summer.
As we walked across the campus on a hot July morning, we were talking as we headed to our first games at a practice gym.
Chuck broke the flow of the conversation and said, “Buick.” It seemed strange, but a few steps later Dick said “Ford Galaxy.” Now it was getting weird, I thought, but I wasn’t about to ask them what this strange code meant.
About a minute later a very attractive graduate student in shorts walked by us, in unison the old coaches said, “Cadillac,” with big grins on their faces.
They were clandestinely commenting on the college girls as we walked across campus. As Chuck often said, “There’s snow on the roof, but there’s still a fire in the furnace.”
Life lessons from long ago.