Thursday, March 26, 2015

My Favorite Team

I've never been around another group of anything that I would call more of a "team" than my class of 2010 17u Comets Elite team. The members of that team were: Alex Hanks, Jordan Riewer, Erik Tengwall, Mike Johnson, Shaun Condon, Taylor Filipek, Zach Noreen, Scott Willenbring, Dan Kornbaum and Ben Bucholz. I could use this space to go on and on about their accomplishments and how big a part of all of their success that myself and the Comets organization were. That's not my purpose. Instead I'm going to try and explain how much that team taught me. What they taught me is that a team isn't seen, a team is felt.

They were all extremely talented. They were all the stars of their High School teams. They were BMOC at their schools. They were all being recruited. They were all being told on a daily basis how great they were. But when they got together in the gym, they were none of that. They wanted none of that BS. They were unselfish. They were already winners. They wanted to become better winners, so they became more unselfish. And, most importantly, they loved each other. In turn, I learned to love all of them. They were, to steal a phrase from 2015 nomenclature, "my guys". It was the first, and maybe the last, time that I could coach a team as myself. They didn't want to be coddled. When their effort was crap, I told them. And, when I challenged them the most wonderful thing happened, they responded. Over and over that spring and summer they responded. Tournament after tournament they responded. They, impossibly, got closer and closer. I got closer to them; they got closer to me. We became a family. I've never been around a team that cared for each other so much. Their success was secondary to their buddies success. They celebrated each other's scholarship offers rather than worry why they hadn't gotten one offered instead. They picked each other up when someone came to the gym flat or sad or just tired. They picked me up when we had early morning games and the AAU coaches from other programs (that I wont name) kept me out too late the night before. I've pulled for these guys for going on 6 years now. Last night Jordan Riewer's career ended, ending the collegiate run of my favorite team. I've had so much fun following these guys. I've been so proud of their achievements. Most of all, I've learned from them what a team truly is.

Thank you to Alex, Jordan, Erik, Shaun, Mike, Zach, Taylor, Scottie, Danny and Ben
You guys are the best.

Wednesday, January 21, 2015

This courtship is a bunch of courtshit

Preface: This post will piss some people off. It will probably piss off some people I really like. During my time coaching AAU I met some wonderful people. Not just people, friends. Good friends. There are great people, doing great things for our young basketball players. Here comes the but...BUT, even the best intentioned AAU coaches are stuck playing a game that has no rules. 


A grown man (or woman) is texting your son (or daughter) after every single game they play. They are facebooking them after every game they play. They are tweeting at them after every game they play. They are telling them how good they are, how good they played, how much they can help their game, how crappy their HS coach is, how crappy the other AAU program is (while that program is probably texting the player at the same time). I know they are, because I did it. I woke up on Wednesdays and Saturdays and looked at the paper (it was the old days) and looked for high scorers, stat-stuffers, etc. Once I narrowed in on a player, I texted my existing teenage contacts and tried to get the number for my newly discovered teenage talent. Then, once I got the number, I texted them. I tried early on to call, and not text. The problem is, teenagers don't answer the phone. But we, the AAU coaches, we can't handle not making contact, the chance that another program is beating us to them, not telling them how much we think of them, so we text. We text teenagers. Texting turned in to facebooking, which turned into tweeting. There are grown ups telling our teenage players how good they are at every single turn. Those grown ups aren't their parents, they're basketball people, basketball coaches. They are the exact same basketball people that bitch about entitlement and transfer-itis. This makes no sense. What we are doing, or allowing, makes no sense.

This is just the beginning. I'm going to write more on this. I'm going to start asking HS coaches what they think about their players being courted during the season. I'm going to ask them how they feel about their players being forced to think about April in January. I'm going to ask the parents of the players that are being courted what they think about their son or daughter's courtship. I have no doubt that plenty of players and their parents love being courted. Attention feels good to us all. My question is, is it good for the player? Is it good for the team? And, most importantly, is it good for basketball.

My premise is that basketball is, or should be, better than this. That this courtship is a bunch of courtshit and is bad for the people, bad for teams and bad for the game.

Some of this is written for effect. I want to make it sound bad. I think it is bad. How bad? That I don't know, but I am going to try and find out. Most of you wont want to touch this issue, so...If you have comment on AAU courtship and wish to remain anonymous, feel free to email me at 10khoops.josh@gmail.com or call/text me at 612-390-9047
 .

Thursday, June 19, 2014

Can American born players play the game of basketball as unselfishly as foreign born players?

Let's preface this post with an acknowledgement of a strong undertone of stereotype. Americans are selfish, greedy, conservative, success driven, etc. Foreigners are compassionate, unselfish, progressive, process driven, etc. I'm not sure whether or not these stereotypes, which I will lean on to support this argument, are true or false. I am sure that I am going to lean on them to some extent to support my argument. Just so you know, I am aware. You are now aware too.

Can American born players play the game of basketball as unselfishly as foreign born players?

This question arose after the NBA Finals in which the cosmopolitan, foreign-born Spurs undressed the American-born Heat. The Spurs put on a clinic. Actually, no clinic has ever been able to match what the Spurs did. I've never seen that before. The unselfishness wasn't human. It certainly wasn't American.

We Americans have been beaten over the head with the need for the superstar. To win in basketball you need a killer. You need MJ. Basketball has recently been viewed as a sport in which every team is only one player away; as long as that player is the man, a beast, a dude, a killer, like Mike, Magic, Bird, Lebron, Kobe, Shaq and others have been. The Spurs showed that if the basketball moves (Pop: "it moves or you die") on time and with a purpose that you don't have to constantly isolate your best player, ball screen your two best players and be up against the clock on every possession. I think our love of the superstar has created this ball-in-hand culture. The American born player has no knowledge of, or use for, the hockey assist. If it doesn't show up in a box score and lead to a scholarship or paycheck what good is it? If I control the ball, I control the box score. If what we want is superstars, then we are going to have to live with unspectacular players thinking they are spectacular.

Another American phenomenon is AAU basketball and/or sport specialization. (Full disclosure: I don't know how comparable other countries youth programs and sports specialization are to ours - if I were paid to write stuff like this I'd research, interview, etc. I'm not so I didn't)  The issue with AAU basketball is that it is just more of the same basketball, a further reinforcement of selfish basketball. The bigger issue is with sport specialization. We shelter our youth from failure, from humility, from the backbone of selflessness. We eliminate the sports in which they are merely role players and focus on the sports in which they are stars. This may be our nations greatest sports error. Basketball players should play baseball (or hike, bike, paddle, swim, run) in the summer. They should play football or soccer or whatever in the fall. They should play basketball in the winter. They should practice basketball in between. We are insulating our youth from failure and in turn creating selfish wanna-be superstars that put themselves before the team because we put them before the team.

This is a first draft. I'd love to hear from anyone that reads this. Am I on to something? Eventually I will, or at least should, look further into the foreign side of this topic (scary thought - the world is a big place). I'm intrigued to know if the reason that the Spurs can play like that is because they are unselfish, well coached and talented or if it is because they are unselfish, well coached, talented and foreign.

Can America idolize the superstar and produce unselfish athletes? I hope so but I think no.








Thursday, September 26, 2013

The Fresh Print of a new era: PVD

Print volume is hurting our young athletes. Today's young athletes see their names printed more often than Jefferson, Lincoln and Washington ever did. I throw that out there for effect, but it's probably true. Nobody used to be able to google their own name. Nobody used to get ranked as an eighth grader. Nobody used to get hundreds of facebook and twitter mentions after a big game. Print was the thing of legend. Getting print was rare. It was never expected. If and when it happened, it was important. Really important. As in beating your cross town rival important. As in scoring five touchdowns important. As in breaking the state 100m dash record important. It took an actual athletic feat to be recognized. That's no longer the case. We create athletic feats out of the ordinary. The more we acknowledge the ordinary, the more print the ordinary gets, the more the ordinary becomes the entitled. The entitled were an elite class of athlete in previous eras; entitlement is the ordinary today. Excessive print creates entitlement of the masses.

The main actors in Print Volume Disorder (PVD) are: the players, the parents and the media. The players have PVD. They google themselves. They constantly check for new facebook and twitter followers or mentions. They follow and/or friend anyone and everyone that likes them; they unfollow and unfriend anyone that criticizes them. The parents have PVD. They do the same thing their children do. They seek out any and all mentions of their child and re-re-re them all. Proud to a fault, the PVD parents are. The media doesn't have PVD, it gives PVD. (Although an argument could be made that the media likes seeing their name in print as much or more than the players do.) The media is the infector and, subsequently, the benefactor. Quite the gig if you can get it. The funny thing is, I don't begrudge them a bit. They're running a business. Their business plan is simple. Most players and parents have PVD --- cha-ching! It's that simple. The more names we print, the more hits we get, the more times we're read. I don't blame them a bit. That would be like blaming the liquor store for the alcoholic.

Rankings are the cocaine of the PVD generation. We rank players as early as 8th grade. We re-rank players 6-7 times per year; gotta feed the need. Gotta get that bump. We rank 150 players deep in each class. So a player that is ranked as an eighth grader will likely see their name in this one location thirty to thirty-five times in a career. What if they play two sports? What if they visit other sites with similar rankings? What if they read their mentions on twitter? How many times will their parents, friends, girl/boy-friends, coaches, etc. show them their updated rankings? It's mind numbing to think about. How many times has Tyus Jones' name been printed in Minnesota the last 5 years? Would you take the over or under on 1 million?

How will PVD affect the players moving forward? Is it going to be possible to raise an athlete that isn't an egotistical a--hole? Is it their fault? Who's fault is it? Is their even a fault to be assigned?

PVD is a problem. It is not healthy for individuals, teams, communities and future generations. Unfortunately, PVD is growing stronger every day. It is infecting more and more people. This is a problem that will only get worse as our world continues to shrink under the veil of wirelessness. Parents will soon be hashtagging their childrens names during games. Twitter handles will be printed on jerseys in the place of last names (The NBA isn't really helping the cause with that stupid nickname idea). The media will tweet about what that stud 8th grader from Duluth is eating for lunch today (and people will care). The players will find a way to automatically retweet anything and everything that includes their name. It is only going to grow. Rankings can and will go younger and deeper. We aren't even close to the saturation level. I mean, is there a saturation level? Can a person grow conscious enough to tire of seeing their name in print? Is that even human?

That may be the saddest reality, and ultimately, the truest reality. We all have PVD. And, there is no cure.

Friday, June 14, 2013

The Self Conscious Open Gym

'Tis the season for sloppy, bad habit re-enforcing open runs and lethargic summer league games. Here's an idea for the player that is truly dedicated to his or her craft. Use these opportunities (open gym/summer league) as self testing grounds. Use your self awareness to drive your improvement. Ultimately, the outcome of these games have no real consequence. There are no coaches watching. There are no fans watching. Take these chances to make changes in your game. Engage in open gyms and summer league games with a thoughtful purpose.

Here is what you do:

Enter the gym with an intentional development goal already in mind. Don't wait until you enter the gym to make your daily development goal, make it before hand. Don't let the jive talkers stir your competitiveness before you set your goal. Shoot, take it one further and write it down in your car before you go in. Challenge yourself. You know your game better than anyone else. Which also means you know your flaws better than anyone else. Rather than hide those flaws, attack them.

-If you're a big guy that always seems to trail plays because you can make a middle of the floor face up jumper, change it up. Every possession, conscious effort, sprint to the rim. If a backscreen leads to a jumper, so be it.

-If you're a big guy that only scores over left shoulder, go over your right.

-If you're a guard that has issues attacking off dribble with your left hand, make a conscious effort to do it. The awareness here isn't necessarily to 'attack with left' as much as it is 'break habit, get better, stay aggressive, don't attack with right'.

-If you're a rhythm, off-the-bounce shooter, shoot off move and catch.

-If you're an aloof defender, lock in! Guard for full possessions & games.

-If you're a big floating wing that doesn't offensive rebound, don't float and go get some extra possessions.

-If you're a ball-in-hand scorer, basket cut, reverse ball, screen yourself open.

-Etc, etc, etc --- There are hundreds of examples

The cool thing about these summer testing grounds is that they can offer practice opportunities you'll never find anywhere else. There is a freedom in these settings that doesn't exist in formal practices and games. This freedom is actual basketball freedom, rare in the basketball world. You can truly do whatever you want. Basketball freedom, like all freedom can either be used or abused. Use it, and attack a different part of your game at every chance.

Start slow. Challenge yourself to "stay in character" for one game, then two, then three, and so on. It's ok to understand that eventually at every open gym, at least if you're a player with a pulse, competitiveness will  take over. Go win some games, go ahead and get some buckets, but feel good knowing you put in conscious work first.

Too many players allow themselves to be open gym chameleons. Don't blend into your surroundings. Step outside, challenge yourself and change your game!




Wednesday, May 1, 2013

My take on AAU

I will preface this post with this: I was the 17u head coach of the the Minnesota Comets AAU program for six years. This post is the product of my observations while working within the AAU circuit, coupled with my observations since leaving AAU last winter.

If you're high major D1 or have money falling out of your pockets, this post is not for you. You should play AAU as constituted. If you're the former, you're probably not paying to play AAU anyway. If you're the latter, well, congratulations and carry on.

Game on.


Here are the things about AAU basketball I feel are of great benefit to players:

1. Playing. I have a hard time buying into the rationale that playing more is hurting our players. The issue is that playing has been viewed as a replacement to practice and training, which it should not be. The issue is not playing. Players get better by playing.

2. A new, different coaching voice. I've always felt this was one of the best reasons for playing AAU. A player's HS coach, by nature, will approach a player in one way or another. They point out the flaws they see in that player. They will give their individual advice to that player. An AAU coach can provide a different voice and different advice. I consider that healthy, constructive criticism.

3. Playing against the best. To me the single best reason to play AAU is to get your ass kicked. There are few places that players can go to get beat. AAU is one. If you don't learn a lot about yourself in those moments where you know the guy across from you is better, then this is the wrong game for you. The best learn from the best.

4. Comraderie. I've witnessed life long friendships built through AAU; I've made life long friendships through AAU. Spending weekend after weekend in gyms, hotels, pools, cars, and planes is a great way to get to know people. That comraderie is what I will always cherish from my time in AAU basketball.


Here are the things about AAU basketball I feel are not of great benefit to players:

1. There is far too much emphasis placed on scholarships and the level which players end up at. I did it. I touted our D1 guys. I touted our D2 guys. I didn't necessarily tout our D3 guys. (And, I'm a D3 guy!) It's how AAU programs get their next crop of talented players. It is the AAU program's resume. Players and parents would rather know that you have put players into scholarhsip situations than that you won event x or y. Wins are insignificant. Scholarships are significant. Level is significant. Right fit is insignificant. I've had far too many of players that I coached transfer down a level because they were swooned by the loot and not a career. I always say to players, "would you rather tell your grandkids about your playing career or your scholarship".

2. There is too much money being wasted in the system. The majority of players do not need to play 50 games in 10 events during the off season. The majority of players do not need to spend $3,000-$5,000 for those 50 games. The majority of players do not need to play in national events. I, personally, think AAU is a terrible financial investment for 90%+ of families. If you're good enough, make the investment. Most aren't good enough.

3. The exposure players received is over-hyped. Yes, you're right there are college coaches standing over there watching this game. They are there. Do they have your son or daughters correct contact information? Is it accurate? Did your college aged AAU coach turn it in on time? Did the event coordinator put it into the book properly? Did the event coordinator sell that info to the coaches for $200? It's true, coaches do watch AAU games. They (coaches) are the lifeblood of AAU. If they come, you can build it. That said, the world is getting smaller every day. Very few stones are left unturned by college coaches. The only prerequisite to a scholarship is being good enough for the coach to invest in you. That's it; it's that simple. Good players get scholarships. AAU is not a prerequisite. The exposure comes from being a good player, otherwise you are actually being exposed. That is an important distinction.

4. AAU takes up too much family time for the return families receieve. It replaces family trips to the lake, to Yellowstone, to the Boundary Waters, to the Twins game, etc. I played HS basketball in a different era. We played one or two summer tournaments with our HS team. I will never forget the family trips my family took during my teenage years. The rocky mountains, southwestern deserts, Minnesota lakes and everything in between shaped the person I am today far more than the thousands of hours I have spent in a gym. AAU seems to forget about life outside of basketball. There is life outside of basketball.


Fix it.

AAU can be fixed. It has the framework in place to be fixed. In my opinion, the action falls on both the clients (players) and the vendors (programs).
Play in less events. This will allow for other activities. Those activities will still include skill development, open runs and countless hours of shooting for the most dedicated. The less dedicated shouldn't be playing 10 events anyway.
Quit playing national events. In seven years of coaching very talented AAU teams, I had 7 out of 60 players get D1 scholarships. Two of them have transfered back to play D2 in Minnesota. And, we were a program that had good success in regards to over all recruitment. Don't forget this: We are lucky to have one of the best D2 leagues (NSIC) and two of the best D3 leagues (MIAC/WIAC) in the nation right in our backyard. What are you running from, and what are you running to?
Practice more. Reducing the volume of events and distance to these events should allow for more practice time and more in-depth practices. One practice a week in between events doesn't cut it. I did it, I know it doesn't cut it. They forget the stupid SLOBs, BLOBs, gimmick D's and Sets you put in anyway. Focus your practice time on their skill and knowledge development. Challenge your coaching skills. Make them better players.
Tell players what they need to know, not what they want to hear. Be honest. The best thing you can do is be honest; not biased, I said honest! And, that means you, all of you: the parents, aau program directors, aau coaches, media, college coaches, friends, extended family, handlers (I get the creeps just writing that), etc. Challenge the player in your life to be a better player.


Change will come. The saturation point is nearing. Too many share my sentiments. That said, it won't happen over night. There is a money making machine in motion. Change the game. Demand a better product. Demand a product that fits the masses, not the 10%.

The key is to play, not to pay.

Thursday, February 21, 2013

Exorcise the Player

One of the hardest things for a young coach to do is to separate their former, playing self from their current, coaching self.  It seems like something that doesn't, or at least shouldn't matter all that much.  I think it does. In fact, I think that most people wrongly associate 'good player' with 'good coach'.  I'd contend that the better, the more dedicated the player, the harder it will be for that person to become a good coach.  They are two completely different animals.  Playing and coaching have one thing in common: basketball.  After that, they're not all that alike and require a completely different subset of talents and abilities.  A player is a player.  A coach is a coach.

It takes conscious effort to exorcise the player.  I still haven't completely figured it out.  I was an above average Division III player, but by no means exceptional.  That said, I occasionally have a hard time explaining how a player should do something.  I can show them.  I know what it feels like to do it, but explaining the action is the hard part.  Former players also have the tendency of assuming their players know things and/or glance over small details that have become second nature to them.  If you're going to assume anything in coaching, assume they don't know.  I've definitely improved; it's been conscious.  I still catch myself going down the delusional road of "hey kids gather 'round while I embellish my dunk on so-and-so or how I gave so-and-so 30".  It may be a fun road to venture down, but it's not coaching.   

Coaching is teaching, which in some cases is showing, but is more often verbalizing.  It's explaining what the player did wrong and what changes they should make to right the wrong.  Former players, that haven't effectively exorcised, have a tendency to get frustrated when players can't do something the way they did.  The frustration should be their own.  Their frustration should be based on the fact that they can't effectively teach the action rather than placing it on the player that cannot perform the untaught action.  It's even worse when players don't have the "drive", "dedication", and "love" for the game that the former player, now coach, had.  That always sets off the former player.  Often, the former player's vision of their drive, dedication, and love is distorted in their favor.  They were more likely very similar to the player they are now scolding.  Nonetheless, as coaches, it's somehow become our job to implant the impression that we cared more then than they do now.  It's the old "I walked uphill both ways to school" approach.  I'm not sold it works.  Instead, try keeping the focus on them.  Talk about their effort and how they can improve it.  Keep your glory days out of it.  They no longer apply.

And, therein lies the rub.  How do we, the former player turned coach, let go of our basketball glory so we can teach?  How the heck do we do that?  Consciously, that's how.  You have to let your playing career go.  Go ahead, keep the headlines and box scores in a scrapbook.  Let your mom keep the newspaper clippings on her refrigerator.  Google your records and show your kids.  Do all of that.  Keep those memories alive.  But, keep them out of your new gym.  You have a job, and it's not playing, it's coaching. 

Exorcise the player and exercise the coach.