Tuesday, November 15, 2011

A Lesson From Coach K

     As Mike Krzyzewski looks to surpass Bob Knight in becoming the all-time winningest coach in NCAA history, I'll be watching along with most every other college basketball fan in the country.
     I'm certainly not the only basketball coach who has devoured just about anything and everything having the name "Coach K" on it:  biographies, articles, his own books and videotapes.  I still have Duke playbook manuals having a Smith-Corona font and picture illustrations of a rail-thin Johnny Dawkins and Jay Bilas with a full head of thick hair, both wearing those classic short shorts of the '80s.  When I watch Coach K's teams play, I always have my notebook at arm's length in case I need to jot something down I haven't seen Duke do over the last two decades.  I mean, it doesn't take a genius IQ to figure out that the soon-to-be 903 win coach probably has a pretty good grasp on the game of basketball.  Especially when said coach has learned a thing or two from his own college coach, a guy with a mere 902 wins.  A guy named Knight.
     
     If imitation is the sincerest form of flattery, then theft is shameless adulation.  I've stolen Krzyzewski's principles on denial defense, his modified motion offense, a number of baseline out-of-bounds plays, and countless other basketball ideas.  I've even found myself personalizing his own sideline posture from time to time-- the way he sits, the way he gestures.  But of all the things I've learned about the game from observing one of the best at his craft, what I've learned from Coach K that has been most important to me is something having nothing to do with basketball.

     In the summer of 2000, I attended a coaches clinic headlined by Krzyzewski.  More often than not, I enjoy these clinics not so much for the X's & O's demonstrated by the coaches, but for any lessons or teaching tools that may make me a better teacher to young adults. Not just and approach to the sport alone, but an approach toward life as well.
     When Coach K got up to speak, as more of an impromptu moment, he walked over to a high school coach sitting in the front row of the gym and introduced himself.
      "When you meet somebody, make sure you make good eye contact, and maintain it" he said, demonstrating this while extending his hand.  "Look him straight in the eye while you shake his hand.  It's now when you're showing whether or not your greeting is sincere; whether you really care to actually know the other person or not."  While Coach K shook the man's hand, he made a point that his handshake wasn't rushed, that it lasted at least a few seconds.  It was a gesture that lasted long enough that there was no doubt this greeting was something more than just a a mere formality.  The handshake should say more than just "hello" and "nice to meet you".  It says more than "good game" or "congratulations".  It says "Your existence is important to someone, therefore it's important to me."

     I can't recall what Coach K taught about basketball that day, but I've never forgotten the X's & O's of the handshake he demonstrated.  I immediately put into practice the art of the handshake with every player and young adult I met or greeted thereafter.  A firm, several second grip, with eyes lasered onto the other person's eyes like a rifle scope on a target.  Often, an unlearned recipient will end eye contact and look to pull away.  That is until, without words, I pass on the lesson that his handshake is sub-par, and that an extended handshake and better eye contact is what is preferred here.  And like Coach Knight and Coach K practiced for decades before me, anything worth learning is worth teaching.
 
     A little more than a year later, October 5, 2001 to be exact, I attended Mike Krzyzewski's induction ceremony into the Naismith Basketball Hall Of Fame.  If that wasn't exciting enough, I had attended it as a guest of Coach Knight.  And to up the excitement ante one last time, I was seated with Coach Knight and right behind Coach K.  Row two, seat two.
     When Coach K first glanced my way, I'm sure he wondered who this unrecognizable nobody was, sitting next to his friend and mentor.  A moment later he turned around and nodded hello.  I introduced myself to him as we both extended our hands at the same time.          "John, it's nice to meet you" says one of the best basketball coaches in history.  

"Congratulations, Coach. It's great being here" says one of the most insignificant high school basketball coaches in history.  
     And just like that day at the clinic, Coach K's handshake was textbook, just like he had drawn it up a year earlier.  As excited and nervous as I was at that moment, I also felt an immediate calm come over me, as Coach K's grasp continued for a perfect few seconds into his questioning.        
     He asked where I was from, and how I knew Coach Knight.  He welcomed me and thanked me for coming...he thanked me!  All the while, and during our brief few minutes of conversation, his eyes were locked onto mine.  My nervousness was gone, erased by a guy who not only was great at coaching the game of basketball, but was great at instantly instilling an ease and self-confidence in another human being.  My excitement was tempered from awe to appreciation.  I felt empowered, yet humbled by the sincere interest a hero of mine had in me.  I felt from Coach K what I had taken from him during that clinic: that I was significant to someone, therefore significant to him.  And all this because of the way he shook my hand and listened intently, with his ears and his eyes.
 
     Chances are I'll never meet or exchange words with Coach K again, and that's okay.  Because during that night ten years ago, I was able to have an experience that I'll fondly remember forever.  And if I ever do see Coach K again, and shake his hand, I have no doubt I'll feel again just like I did on that October 5th--that the winningest coach in college basketball history felt I wasn't out of place at all seated next to him--because of a handshake.
   
     When Coach Krzyzewski reaches that milestone of 903, the barrage of timelines, plateaus, championships, and career highlights will dominate ESPN and all the sports headlines.  And when it does, I'll consume every video clip, watch every interview, and read every article. 
     But when I reflect on everything Coach K has accomplished in his career and what he has given back to the game, I'll remember most the lesson he taught me.  That regardless of status, accomplishment, or recognition, every person should be appreciated, respected, and acknowledged.  For who they they are and for who they are to others. 
     And as often as remembering the proper mechanics of a jump shot, I'll always remember the proper mechanics of a handshake, thanks to Coach K.

1 comment:

  1. My hand is extended to you (and my heart) for the beautiful and moving experience you had with Coach K People like Coach K make the world a better place. We should all lead by his example.


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