Seeking a Culture of Basketball: An Idealistic Future

This post is the sequel to "Seeking a Culture of Basketball: My Journey So Far"

I have Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder, Predominantly Inattentive Type, or as it is commonly known, ADD. I am pretty open about that, and I am pretty open about the struggles that I face with it, what I do to overcome it, and the triumphs I enjoy. I have found that any tendencies toward hyperactivity, few though they are for me, are overcome by regular physical activity. To a certain degree this also seems to help my focus throughout the day, but I have only found one activity where my ADD is not an issue, and is actually an ally: basketball.

Basketball means the world to me. It is one of a handful of activities that provides me a complete release from any struggles I may face. Whether the basketball helps the ADD, the ADD helps the basketball, or there is another benefit entirely, I don't really care. I love the game.

It is common for those with ADD to be able to hyper-focus when adrenaline is involved. Sometimes that is because of an impending deadline, and sometimes it is because it is something you are passionate about. Many world class athletes and entertainers have ADD or ADHD. In an interview for The Haney Project, Michael Phelps' mother talked about Michael's ADHD. He developed a passion for swimming, and his ADHD helped him to lock in completely on the sport. Completely submersing himself  in swimming (pun not initially intended, but when I realized what I had done I kept it), he became perhaps the greatest swimmer of all-time and a national icon. His hyper-focus led him to the top, and while mine will never lead me to be the greatest basketball player of all-time, it has helped me to find relief from the day-to-day stresses of life.

I have a tendency to completely immerse myself in the world of sports. Never is that more evident than in the month of March, as my poor wife is about to discover. My brain, which is constantly bouncing around at 174 miles per hour, relaxes, focuses, and finds peace and satisfaction when I am involved in some aspect of basketball. 

I have seen the benefits of basketball physically, socially, and emotionally. I want to enjoy those benefits throughout my life, and I want my future kids to enjoy those same benefits. This has me seeking a culture of basketball, and I think I know where I can find it.

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As I mentioned before I served a mission for my church in Colorado. My missionary trainer there was a 5'5" 21 year old young man from Indiana. His name is Bocephus. His uncle is also his grandpa. They call him Uncpa. Don't ask: it's as weird as it sounds.

He left me with the impression that there was no more backwards place in the world than the state of Indiana, and even though he was a nice guy himself, I just knew I could never raise my kids in place like Indiana.

Basketball is everywhere in Indiana. How awesome is that?

So then, what on earth possessed me to walk into my kitchen a couple of weeks back and tell my wife I wanted to raise our kids in Indiana? Let me explain.

I could probably just finish here by referring you to Dana O'Neil's article on ESPN.com that goes in depth about the culture of basketball that is found in Indiana. In fact, I would definitely encourage you to read that article. A lot of what I have left to say is based on thoughts that I had after reading that article, so if you find me incredibly boring, feel free to read Dana O'Neil's thoughts and tap out.

For the two or three of you who are still reading - presumably my mom, best friend, and possibly my wife - I'll try and make this worth it for you.

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My love affair with Indiana all begins, as I'm sure you could guess, with the movie Hoosiers. If you haven't seen it, I'll wait. You can continue reading upon its conclusion in 114 minutes.

Bobby Plump (shooting) - hit the game winner that won
tiny Milan High the Indiana state title.

Hoosiers tells the story of Hickory High School, a tiny school that goes on to *SPOILER ALERT* win the state championship. It is an adaptation of the real life story of Milan High School, a small school in Indiana that has now been immortalized by Hollywood. Milan High, a school with 161 students, made a remarkable journey in 1953 to the state championship. That doesn't sound completely unreasonable, but if you consider the fact that at the time, Indiana didn't have classes like we have now. There was no 5A, 4A, 3A, etc. school divisions based one your size. Just making the state finals was an accomplishment, but the following year they topped it by winning the state title over Muncie Central, a school with a student enrollment over 1,600. The miracle team from Milan won the state championship game against a school with 10 times as many students as they had. Impressive.

I love the scene in Hoosiers when Coach takes his players into Butler Fieldhouse (now Hinkle Fieldhouse) before the championship game. The players look around in absolute awe at the magnitude of the gym. He walks onto the court, and has his players measure the free throw line. 15 feet from the basket. He has them measure the height of the rim. 10 feet. "I believe you'll find it's the exact same measurements as our gym back in Hickory."

This is Chrystler High School's gym in New Castle, IN.
It seats 9,325.

It seems like you'd have to do that a lot in Indiana, and not just when you visit Assembly Hall at the University of Indiana or the landmark site of Hinkle Fieldhouse at Butler University. As Dana O'Neil reported, Indiana is home to 13 of the 16 largest high school gyms in America, with the largest arena seating 9,325. It's bigger than Duke's Cameron Indoor Stadium. That blows my mind. The largest crowd I have ever played in front of was that European Championship game, and I would estimate there were something like 1,500 to 2,000 people there. That's a lot for high school, but nothing compared to some of these gyms in Indiana. The full capacity of some gyms exceeds the population of the town. Why? Because everyone will be there for the game, and the visiting town will travel in, too.

The atmosphere at my championship game was electrifying. We lost, but the crowd was behind us, the underdog. I cannot tell you how exhilarating it was to play in front of so many people who are cheering for you. The noise was deafening at times. But in Indiana it's bigger, and it's the hometown crowd. That has to be incredible. One day my wife and I will have kids. If they're even the tiniest bit like me, they would love hearing their name announced in front of thousands of fans. It would be an awesome experience that they'll never forget.

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As you now know of my past, I took some turns that derailed any chance I had at obtaining my athletic dreams. At least as a player. I still have this overwhelming desire to coach, and my big dream is to be the head coach at a  Division I college basketball program. It is a lofty goal, and certainly one that will be difficult to obtain, but it could happen. Maybe.

I know I'll never have the Dukes or Kentuckys of the college basketball world calling for me to coach their programs. That seems absurd. (Though if it happens, sign me up!) But honestly, putting my allegiance to BYU aside and prior to me being named head coach of some tiny school, if there is one place in the country I could coach, I would love to be an assistant in Brad Stevens' program at Butler.

Brad Stevens is one of the top coaches in basketball.

I mean, think about it. It's in the state of Indiana, the greatest basketball state in existence, and I would be coaching in historic Hinkle Fieldhouse. Seriously, take the time to read about that place. It's a National Historic Landmark. In 1928 some guy named John Wooden played in the state championship game there, missing a free throw that lost his team the game 13-12. Milan High won the state championship on that floor in 1954 on a miraculous shot made by Bobby Plump, something I wouldn't even know about if it weren't for Hoosiers, which, by the way, was also filmed in that Fieldhouse. You could go on for a while, but it has a rich history that would be awesome to be part of. As Brad Stevens put it, it's "Hinkle Magic."

But it's not just the magic that makes Butler great. It also isn't the recent success of their basketball program, with recent back to back trips to the national championship game. It's "The Butler Way." And even if I never live in Indiana or coach in the Bulldogs' basketball program, the Butler Way is how people should live everywhere.

"The Butler Way demands commitment, denies selfishness, accepts reality, yet seeks improvement everyday while putting the team above self."

Does that not sound like an excellent way to live life? I want to have that perspective and live that way, and I want my kids to do the same.

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This isn't me saying that I'm going to pursue a college coaching job relentlessly. It's also not a declaration that I am moving to Indiana. Nor is it my way of saying that I will live out my dreams through my future children.

Please! Don't think that I'm going to be living out my dreams through my kids. I never made it to the NBA and the odds are certainly not in my favor to coach college basketball. Will my kids have the same dreams? Who knows. I would guess they probably will, or at least similar. I would assume they'll be sports fans because they'll be my offspring, and my wife is no slouch in the sporting world herself. Although, she jokes we're going to end up with a band kid and have no idea what to do with him or her (I was going to say "it" but that just didn't feel right).

With the glory days behind me, who knows what
the future will hold.

If they do love sports, great. I'll know exactly what to do. And it's not just basketball. The lessons I've learned from basketball I also learned in my experiences with baseball, soccer, and tennis. For me, basketball carried me the farthest and I see it in my future more than any other sport. That is why this has been about my love of basketball, and that is why I feel drawn to Indiana culture.

Will I ever live in Indiana? I sure doubt that one; it seems unlikely. But it's not like basketball doesn't exist in other parts of America. And I love all sports, and they're available everywhere. The principles of team and the Butler Way can be taught anywhere. I can coach high school ball in any state and I could get my shot at the college level in any part of the country.

As I mentioned before, my three life motivations are my wife, my faith, and sports. Before sports dictate where my family lives and what we do, I would imagine that God and Shantel will have a pretty big say.

My point is this: basketball has been a blessing in my life. It has calmed my mind, given me purpose, and taught me how to live. It is a lifelong love for me, and wherever I can find a culture that promotes the same lessons and provides the same opportunities as basketball, that is where I want to be.

Seeking a Culture of Basketball: My Journey So Far

Being game day, I looked in the mirror and realized I needed to shave. You see, BYU has a rule that men must be clean shaven in order to participate in intramural activities. I hate shaving. I'm just too dang lazy to take two whole minutes out of my day to use my electric razor and get rid of the peach fuzz that is imperceptible to everyone but my wife and the dictators within BYU's intramural program. Consequently, there are really only two times that I'll shave: when my wife tells me I need to, and when I have an intramural game that day.

As I thought of my motivations to shave, I realized that I have three main motivations for nearly everything I do in my life: my wife, my faith, and sports.

Why am I still in school? Because my wife won't let me quit and because a prophet of God, Gordon B. Hinckley, said to "Get as much education as possible."

Why couldn't I attend your wedding reception? Because BYU was playing Utah that day.

Why am I going to clip my fingernails tomorrow? Because today I have a game and clipping them now will affect how the ball feels coming off my fingers.

Why did I skip my test retake? BYU had a game that night. And boy, am I glad I went! Craig Cusick's buzzer beater to defeat Utah State will be a great memory.

Why was I on Academic Warning after two of my first four semesters at college? Because school was getting in the way of March Madness.

Why do I want to move to Indiana? Basketball is their culture, and I want it to be mine.

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Switch hitting from an early age in my
Stockton length shorts.

My basketball journey has had some pretty dramatic ups and downs, but sports have been a part of who I am since the beginning. My first word, "ball," set the stages for the sports fanatic I would become. As a kid, everything I did was sports related. I watched sports. I played them as often as I could. I wore short shorts because if they were good enough for John Stockton, they were good enough for me. I collected baseball cards, and cards from all sports. My favorite number is 14 because Ty Detmer, BYU's lone Heisman Trophy winner, wore the number 14. When I was told to go clean my room, my mom would occasionally come check on me to make sure I was doing it. More often than not she found me reorganizing my cards in their binders and protective sleeves. It didn't matter how many times she told me that wasn't cleaning, it was still all I did. Sorry, Mom.

When I was young my favorite sport would fluctuate with whatever season it was. In the summer it was baseball (how many six year-old switch hitters do you know?), in the fall it was football, in the winter it was basketball. But one thing always remained constant, and that was the tiny, plastic, adjustable basketball hoop that lived in my basement. I played on that thing even when my head was high above the five-foot rim. It was a staple in my home.

It was on that basket where I first developed my knack for shooting the ball. I discovered I had some "sweet spots" where I felt like I never missed. I loved being a shooter. That continued when my dad got an adjustable standard for our driveway in Colorado. I loved to shoot from as far away as I possibly could, and boy was I excited when I would nail a shot from the sidewalk at the end of the driveway.

I started to play organized ball when my family moved to Washington just after my tenth birthday. I remember being told by my friend's mother that I would one day be a great three-point shooter. I wondered why she said that because I didn't even attempt a three-pointer as a ten year old. It was outside my range and I knew it. But she pointed out that even when I had a clear lane to the basket, I would dribble out for a shot at the edge of my range. And I would make it.

I never became a "great" long-distance shooter. I never even became a volume scorer in my competitive career, not by any stretch of the imagination. But to an extent she was right. I eventually discovered I had some of those "sweet spots" on a real court. I felt like I never missed from the elbow, and whenever I could I would pull up for that mid-range jumper. My high school coaches my senior year gave me the green light to pull the trigger from deep, but for most of the season I lacked the confidence to do so. I shot one three in the regular season, but my 100 percent 3-point shooting percentage is still a school record. If, of course, you ignore the minimum attempts requirement. Now, after my competitive career is over, I've found my basketball niche from beyond the arc. On my rec and intramural teams, that's what I'm there for: to hit threes.

After playing parks and rec in Washington, I finally graduated to school ball and made the seventh grade "B" team. I was a starter for much of the year, but I don't think I ever made a significant contribution. I barely remember that season, but I do remember it was the last I would play for a long time.

I hit a dark place in my life in eighth grade. I was running with the wrong friends, and being a stupid kid. I lacked a lot of self-confidence; I was picked on for being a bit of a geek and teased relentlessly for being Mormon. I went where I was accepted. It just so happened that was a small group of friends that were gamers and big-time nerds. I don't want to be critical of them. I'm sure they turned out to be great guys, but at the time they certainly did not encourage me to be even remotely who I was at the core. From the end of my seventh grade basketball season to the spring of my freshman year of high school I didn't play a single organized sport.

It was tough to get my life back on track. In the spring of my freshman year I knew what I had to do: I had to start playing sports again. I went back and forth in my decision between baseball and golf, but I eventually landed on baseball. I had been a decent Little Leaguer, and there aren't a lot of switch-hitters out there so I figured I had a shot. Boy was I wrong. My high school had the top baseball program in the state, and if the coaches didn't have an eye on you for the past few years, you didn't stand a chance. And to be honest, I just wasn't that good anymore. I was cut from the team.

After being cut, I knew I still had to play something. This time I couldn't decide between track and tennis. I actually talked to one of the track coaches, and I will always respect what he said to me. He didn't try and recruit me to the track team, but he instead tried to help me make the decision that was best for me. He asked, "Well, you play basketball don't you?" He was unaware that I had given up basketball, and for some reason I still responded with a yes. He then said, "Tennis would be really good for your footwork in basketball. You might want to consider that."

I did, and it began a wonderful love affair with the game of tennis. For the remainder of high school, tennis was my game and how I defined myself. I finished my inaugural tennis season on Varsity, quite an accomplishment considering it was the first time in my life I had played the sport competitively.

2005 District Tennis Tournament in Hanford, WA

Prior to my sophomore season I found out my family would be moving to England after the school year ended. This was tough news because I was hopeful that my tennis career would turn into something special. My coach said he envisioned me competing at the State Championships by my senior year. I had hoped that would lead to a chance to play collegiate tennis, but now we were moving to a foreign country. My new school wouldn't have a tennis program, and I knew I wouldn't be able to afford a membership to a tennis club. I begged to stay in Washington, but my family turned my pleas away. My sophomore tennis season would be my last.

I had a fairly successful year in doubles, but eventually I was moved to playing number two singles. Going into the district tournament I had still never won a Varsity singles match. I lost a close match in the first round, and I lost an even closer one in the consolation round. I was heartbroken my career was ending win-less in singles.

I moved to England desperate to find a way to compete in tennis. I played frequently with my dad and anyone else I could find. I was attending an American school and they nicknamed me "Tennis Boy" because that is really who I was. I competed in a couple of tournaments around the country with no success, but I was still enjoying my time competing.

My junior year I ran track. I hated running in circles, but I was a pretty decent distance runner. Nothing amazing, but not bad. My coach loved me and thought I had a ton of potential as a runner, even telling me he thought I could earn a track scholarship to BYU, but my senior year I opted not to run cross country. Instead, that same coach, because he loved me and respected my decision, helped arrange for me to play tennis against other American schools in England even though it wasn't officially sanctioned. I appreciated this opportunity, but it was where my competitive tennis career would end. I was ever-so-lightly recruited to play college tennis - and by that I mean I never received an offer and I was only contacted by a couple of schools - but that was where it ended.

After school one day, late in the fall of my senior year, I was at the gym with a bunch of my friends from school shooting a basketball. Most of the guys were gearing up for the start of the basketball season, and they had casually recruited me a couple of times simply because I am 6'3".

For the first time in a long time, I picked up a basketball to shoot. I went to the left elbow, that old sweet spot of mine, pulled up, and then let it fly. I missed, but I believe that shot has forever changed the course of my life.

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Immediately after I let that shot go, the recruiting to get me to play ball my senior year intensified. Le'Shawn, a classmate of mine, ran over to me and immediately made the announcement I was playing basketball that year. It was like I didn't even have a say in the matter. I quickly pointed out that I had missed the shot, but apparently that didn't matter. He saw the form and the technique. He saw the potential. And he recruited me hard.

My tennis career was over, and I knew it. The words of that track coach in Washington were ringing in my head. "Well, you play basketball don't you? Tennis would be really good for your footwork in basketball. You might want to consider that."

I did consider it. And I decided to play basketball my senior year. My high school had 95 students. 16 people tried out for the team that year, and for the first time ever they were going to be making cuts. One day after practice I had to ask my coach a question. I started "Coach, if I make the team..." He cut me off, looked me dead in the eyes, and said with a smile, "You're going to make the team." I didn't realize how much I wanted it until I heard those words. I was thrilled to play basketball again.

Division IV European Runner-ups: Menwith Hill HS

It was a magical season. Menwith Hill High School, perennial cellar dwellers in tiny Division IV, went on to win a DIII conference crown and finish second in the European Championships. It was the kind of season Hollywood makes movies about. It was Hoosiers meets Glory Road meets Coach Carter. A tiny underdog school with a bunch of misfits battle adversity, including academic suspensions and violent attacks in the town, to win their conference and play for the title. We lost to the defending DIII champions who had been downsized to DIV. Maybe one day I'll write the story of that season in full, but for now I think it's sufficient to say that that magical run cemented a love for basketball in my heart forever.

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During my freshman year of college I played on what may be the worst intramural basketball team in the history of the sport. Games were played on a 40 minute running clock and I remember losing one game by 50 points. That's not a joke.

After my freshman year, I served a full-time mission for The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints in northern Colorado and western Nebraska. It was a remarkable experience, and one that I don't regret in the slightest. I played basketball maybe twice a month on average throughout the two years, but if you were to ask me if I would rather have my mission memories or my basketball memories, I would take the mission every time.

Having said that, even a mission increased my love of basketball. I came home hungry. I wanted to play basketball and get my skills back and improve as much as I could. I took a basketball class my second semester back so that I could play several times a week and have a coach helping me get back on track. I played a rusty but exciting intramural season and it just felt good to play consistently again.

At the time I was  PE Teaching and Coaching major. Perhaps my favorite class that I have ever taken was called "Coaching Basketball." I was coached on how to coach the game that I love. Immediately following the semester I tested what I had learned as I coached a sixth grade Jr. Jazz basketball team.

The "Senseis" after practice (missing one player)

That year of coaching was one of the greatest experiences of my life, not just basketball. I watched as kids were transformed through the game of basketball. That team voted to call themselves the "Senseis" so they could teach the other teams how to lose. Pretty clever of them, huh? The season didn't start that way, but it quickly turned around.

We lost our first game because of my limited coaching experience. I hadn't learned how to manage my timeouts and we ended up losing a real tight game because I couldn't stop the clock and run a play out of bounds under our own basket. Would we have hit a game winning shot? I'll never know, but I learned a something that day: despite all my experience playing, watching, and studying basketball, I was still clueless on how to coach. I could run a practice and organize my team, but I still needed to learn how to manage a game.

I put everything into that volunteer coaching position because I was afraid I had jumped in too deep and might let these kids down. Having played a variety of sports for most of my life I know the impact a coach has. Sometimes it is good, and sometimes it is bad. I wanted to make sure my impact was an overwhelmingly positive one. I bought instructional DVDs, I read books - and if you know me you know it's a big deal for me to take the time to read - about coaching, I emailed my high school assistant coach and asked for his advice, and I talked to my dad several times a week to run new ideas by him and seek his counsel. Most importantly I worked closely with my roommate and assistant coach Adam. We discussed the team as a whole and players as individuals to diagnose problems and draw up and execute practice plans. We did everything we could to give this team the greatest possibility to succeed.

I know that for sixth graders wins and losses are insignificant. Many people don't believe they should even be acknowledged at that age. But for this team I believe it reflects my learning curve as a coach, and therefore the learning curve of my players. We started the season 1-3 but finished 5-3. We finished the season on an incredible four game winning streak. Each week we got better and better, culminating in a game they turned the scoreboard off just after halftime because we were winning by about 30. We estimate we won that game by approximately 50 points on a 32 minute running clock. That's not a joke.

I joked that our star player would probably be a starter on my intramural team that year. Actually, that may not be a joke, either.

As you can tell, I am extremely proud of this team. I know they are only in sixth grade, but there are a few of them I expect to watch on ESPN one day. Even if none of them decide to pursue an athletic career, they were all incredible young men that will make a difference in the world. My prideful nature hopes that I played a role in that.

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Coaching had an impact on my intramural playing "career" as well. As a coach I focused on the fundamentals, and as a result I got back to the basics as a player and I played remarkable, albeit inconsistent. I scored a lifetime high of 15 points twice that season, only to be bested by a 19 point effort later that year. I was also held scoreless in two of the six games, including the last game of the season.

Once again I was hungry for more. I planned to play basketball nearly every day over my summer break. My life took an unexpectedly beautiful turn that altered those plans dramatically. I met Shantel, a gorgeous girl who got my attention the day we met, which happened to be the first day of that summer break. We started dating and I spent nearly all my time either at work or with her and left myself very little room for basketball. Much like my mission, she took priority over basketball, and I don't regret it for a second. We were married on November 17, 2012.

I didn't know how it was going to be balancing two schedules, so I decided to take this season off from coaching. I am, however, just beginning a second job instructing and officiating first and second grade basketball. I officiated a little bit in my teenage years, but I am excited to once again take part in another aspect of the game.

I am a basketball player, coach, fan, analyst, and official. I love this game.

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By no means do I feel that my story and experience in basketball is remarkable, but I do believe it is unique. My experience has led me to a deep and incredible love for basketball and I want to be a part of its magic for the rest of my life. That love has led me to where I am in my life now: seeking a culture of basketball.