Press Release

May 10, 2011

Actions of the Defeated

-Gene Steinmeyer, Northwest Head Women's Basketball Coach

Many years ago, I was the freshmen boys' basketball coach at Milford High School. My boss and head coach was Bob Bargen. Bob had put together a great team. We spent most the year ranked in the top five of our division of Nebraska high schools.

We went into our district tournament as a big favorite. The games were played at Doane College where the shooting background was open, much different than we had experienced all year in crowded high school gyms.

After a terrible scare from a team that had not won a game all year, we played really well in a semifinal win. All that stood between us and a district championship was Malcolm High School. Malcolm wasn't ranked and didn't appear to be near as talented as our purple-clad Milford boys.

I have no idea what happened. Was it overconfidence? Were there outside distractions that cost us the game? Maybe one of our star players broke up with his girlfriend. Who knows what occurred on that Friday night. All I know is it wasn't good for the favorites.

I have no idea why I remember the locker room atmosphere to this day, but the most hurtful thing was to sit in that crowded room and listen to the celebrating Malcolm players singing We are the Champions over and over. I had driven to the game and was all alone going back to my apartment in Lincoln.

It was awful. I thought to myself that I had never felt so lousy after a defeat. It was then that I discovered the one thing that would follow me right up to this very day. My behavior after a loss is to eat. That night, I tried to eat an entire pizza parlor. Around Christmas time, my depression leads me to eggnog. There's no helping me. Some coaches smoke, some drink, other's go home and kick their pets. Not me; I eat and eat and eat. Ice cream is my favorite anti-depressant. Not just plain vanilla or chocolate. The cold treat I devour after losses has to have something lumpy mixed in it. Also, there better be a sticky topping. Hot fudge and peanut butter are my favorites.

Is it any wonder that a skinny kid that found only eating could ease the pain of losing went from a slim 175 pounds on that mild February night in 1978 to something north of 220 pounds in this new century. I can't imagine the calories I have stuffed in my mouth that has turned into raw fat just because I hate the pain of losing. However, it might be a better behavior than some other sore losers I know.

My 11-year-old son, Sam, had three melt-downs this week alone. In our opening baseball game of the season, Sam struck out in his first at bat. It wasn't the first time he struck out and it won't be the last. The pitcher struck out 10 of the first 12 batters he faced. However, when it happened to Sam, he ducked his head, mumbled something about the umpire's poor judgment, slammed down his batting helmet, put his face in his hands and cried. I do want to point out when Jalen Sundell hit a walk-off home run in the eighth inning (a regulation game is six innings), Sam was the first to jump on Jalen for his monumental, winning homer.

On Mother's Day, Sam took his mom bowling. Jacob, my grandson, and I tagged along. Sam wasn't bowling well in the first game. After each open frame, he slapped the ball holder, scowled at his mother, of all people, and pouted. He should be happy Mom won that first game. It was her day, after all.

On Monday, Sam was in Sioux City to see his cousins, despite the sad occasion of the death of a relative. At the middle school on Tuesday was the assembly to mark the conclusion of the Social Studies project, Pay It Forward. Sam had donated his women's Elite Eight basketball to his own, private silent auction to raise money for a retired teacher suffering from breast cancer. That person also is his great Aunt Tootie. The ball brought an impressive $150. However, it wasn't the most of any of the fifth-grade students in the project. What did Sam do? He yelled at his dad (ME) on the phone that he would not be honored as the one raising the most money. He actually hung up on me.

I have now determined that middle school boys stomp, pout, yell, hit things, and blame other people when things don't go their way. I hope it's just a stage Sam is going through. Either that or I fear for the referees if he becomes a coach like his dad.

Even though Sam's actions in losing were not what I hoped to see, they are very mild to some of the actions after losing from some professional athletes. Just look at last year's NBA champions, the Los Angeles Lakers. As the Dallas Mavericks were absolutely destroying the men from tinsel town, a couple of the Lakers resorted to cheap shots as a way of saying good bye to the playoffs.

Remember the year the Chicago Bulls, led by Michael Jordan, finally beat their old nemesis, the Detroit Pistons, in the playoffs. The Pistons stomped off the floor, refusing to shake hands with the Bulls. The Pistons already had the reputation as being the bad boys of the NBA. Finally, they departed the playoffs as the sorest losers in the NBA.

Listening to some of the professional team's press conferences just about kills me, too. Hardly ever do you hear the words, "The best team won." You are more likely to hear from those professional teams, "We were just too young," or "We were just too old." The officials always are a good punching bag for these spoiled pros and their down-trodden coaches are almost every time the fall guy. I hate that when it happens to a coach.

Politicians have by far the funniest losing behavior. During the campaign, politicians have no trouble slinging mud that is so bad it smells like it came from a cattle lot. Opponents in national races can spread rumors that imply strange social lives, past crimes involving drugs and sex, incredibly poor voting records and awful decision making in trying to shape our domestic policies.

In truth, these two people are probably a couple of peas in a pod. They vote not what they think is right, put what their polling sources say will give them the most votes. The two opponents spend months in the mud and muck, implying that the world will collapse if their opponent is elected. Then, when the results are in and a winner declared, the loser always pledges their undying support to help save the world. All of a sudden, the losing politician has taken a shower and is now sparkling clean on all the issues. All is good in the world of politics. Do you know where your birth certificate is?

 I have thought about my women's basketball coaching colleagues and I have determined their three top behaviors when they lose. I will take them in ascending order. Number three in the list is to blame the players. I have heard coaches tell me they have too many high school recruits, some others tell me they have too many junior college recruits, while other say they have too many Division I recruits. Too much baggage has been recruited that have forced their well-coached teams to defeats.

Number two is to closely evaluate the game as an expert coach, then slowly and painfully explain those reasons to the winning coach, who desperately wants to go celebrate with their team and fans. It might have been too hot in the locker room or the texture of the basketball was different than what they practice with at home. In lengthy conversations, these coaches want the agreement and approval of the winning coach. If I'm lucky enough to be the winning coach and experiencing this behavior, I agree with them immediately and try to find a relative that can get me out of this conversation quickly.

The number one losing behavior is simply to blame the officials. I hate nothing more than to meet the opposing coach at mid-court for the post-game hand shake and to have that coach spend the entire meeting blaming the awful officiating job by totally incompetent individuals. The problem with that conversation is since we won the game, I probably totally disagree with their evaluation of the three poor souls wearing stripes. Those three game managers just spent nearly two hours listening to this outraged coach scream at them. What I want to hear is how well we played or how well I coached (even if it's a lie) or how hard we played, and maybe even hear that we just might be the better team.

After our first game in the Elite Eight with Cal Poly Pomona, the Pomona coach implied that the Bearcats had won because our post players camped out in the lanes. It wasn't the great guard play or the tough zone defense, but in fact the loss occurred because our tall post players cheated and spent a grievous amount of time around the basket. Oh well, the Pomona coach was in her first year. What I should have done is invited her over to share the half gallon of chocolate fudge, brownie, cookie dough raspberry ice cream, with hot fudge and, of course, peanut butter.

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I Think I'm an Expert on Something - May 3, 2011

This was a very eventful weekend. Northwest graduated its seniors in two huge ceremonies at 10 a.m. and 2 p.m. Also, for the first time in probably seven years, my wife and I attended a Jimmy Buffett concert in Kansas City. Something happened at both events that made me think that I might actually be an expert at something.

Nobody ever is an expert at coaching. There are just too many second guessers out in the world. I had a fan this year stop by my office after the season. I thought it would be to congratulate the coaches on the season. It took him seven seconds to get his thoughts on our positive coaching out. Then for the next 25 minutes, he spent informing me of all the things I had done wrong over the past 11 years. I tried a subliminal message to get him out of my office. I shuffled papers, checked the cell phone, showed no eye contract, and even looked longingly toward my email account. This guy had to get his pound of flesh and short of kicking him out of my office, I had to sit there and take it.

I just have to accept the fact I'm not an expert at coaching. At the Buffett concert, Jimmy's most popular song made me think I could be an expert at another field. The song is Margaritaville, and my favorite line in is, "Some people think there's a woman to blame, but I know. . . " and then he uses three ideas for the end of the verse, with the last being, "It's my own d_ _ _ fault!" His message is simple; men and women probably aren't made to get along. I keep thinking about those mushy movies about a man and a woman who fight all odds to accomplish something. What the movie doesn't show is the time between scenes; they're fighting like ‘Cats and Griffons when we aren't watching.

One of my players, Gentry Dietz, graduated Saturday. It was a busy day. I had a 1 p.m. baseball practice, Gentry's graduation at 2 p.m. and I left for the Buffett concert at 4 p.m. I had to park a long ways from the gym so I jumped on one of the last shuttle buses to Bearcat Arena, where graduation is held. Just as we were pulling out, Marty, the driver, stopped to open the door for a young couple headed for graduation. The woman was dressed really well with the typical hard-to-walk-in women's dress shoes. The man had on jeans, cowboy boots and a button shirt that hung out from his jeans. You could see the woman say, "Let's take the shuttle." You could then read the man's lips saying, "No let's just walk."

I knew his motivation was to be late for graduation. It was probably her relative graduating anyway. I knew her motivation - those fancy dress shoes were giving the poor woman a blister. I could see a conflict in the making. Then it hit me, after spending 27 years coaching college women, I must be an expert on female moods. Instead of writing a boring book where I would have to fill in a few boring chapters of research, I decided to turn it into a blog. The first lesson was just given to all males reading this - read body language and remember there is no such thing as a comfortable, woman's dress shoe.

My first lesson in a strange behavior of females came on the bus trip of my first high school basketball team. We were headed to the district championship game - the first time in school history Wilber-Clatonia had played that deep into the season. My best player was my six feet freshman post player, Angie Miller. She was and still is the most dedicated player I have ever coached. Angie never missed anything to do with basketball and she was NEVER late. On this very important day, Angie was late for the bus.

I had more concern than anger. The only reason I could imagine Angie being late was an accident. Even then, if her legs weren't broke, she would probably run from the accident to the bus. However, after about 10 minutes, my concern turned to relief when my freshman star spun into the parking lot with tires squealing. I acted worried and asked if she was alright. Angie brushed by me like I was an ugly boy at the prom. She slammed herself into the bus seat, crossed her arms, and looked at the ceiling.

I knew we were in trouble. I had visions of my first Wilber-Clatonia women's basketball team strutting around with the district championship trophy. That was about to come to an end with something terrible, but unknown, having just happened to Angie. I asked her if there was something wrong, but all I got was a shout, "Hell, no!" Just then, a senior saved the day. Before I could wade into this mess further, Lori, the senior told me, "Coach, don't worry. It's just you-know-what."

Well, at this early stage of my basketball coaching career, I didn't know what. So I asked the dumbest question I had all season. "Just tell me," I blurted to Lori, "what's wrong with Angie. Lori was finally tired of playing this you-know-what game with me and said, "Jeez Coach, it's just that time of the month." At the time, I had no idea why that made Angie late or why she wasn't real respectful toward her coach. However, I made my first great coaching decision of the day - I decided to shut up. Angie played great and we did win the district championship. I was well on my way to becoming that expert on something to do with women.

I really shouldn't mention this next female behavior because I don't know the cause and I sure don't know the cure. The behavior is called the silent treatment and it can be deadly. This behavior that many females favor is something I can speak expertly about. There hasn't been a year go by that some of my best and favorite players haven't clammed up around me in hopes of getting a reaction. There has to be one disclaimer. Dietz, our before mentioned graduating senior, will claim she was my favorite player this past season. Let her continue to believe that. She also will correctly proclaim that she has never given me the silent treatment. That is also true, but there still might be hope for one of those silent moments.

The only way to disarm this behavior is to give it back. If both parties can stand it long enough, you'll forget what the original dispute was all about. Personally, the silent treatment, along with the death stare, has helped me gain an upper hand with basketball officials. First you need a genuine stare that could stop a heart beat. If you can keep it up long enough, the official will come over and ask what's wrong. Then you hit them with, "I don't want to talk to you," and stomp away. You may not get any more calls, but you'll feel better.

How many males have been stabbed in the heart by a roll of the eyes? Not a word has been spoken, but that eye roll clearly states in the loudest terms, "Whatever!" I don't think I've ever know a male to roll his eyes. I really think this is a gender thing. I have no defense for it in relationships, but I have a great one for my basketball team.

Over the years, I have had some All-American eye rollers. Tara Roach would brag that she is in a league by herself. I have to admit, Tara is a two-time, All-American Eye Roller. I can keep a player from rolling their eyes in my view by threatening dire punishments like extra running or a verbal assault in front of the team. However, they all think they can turn their back to me and give me at least an All-Conference eye roll.

There's a huge problem for any of my players who think they can get away with an eye roll on my basketball court. That problem is called assistant coaches. You can always find an assistant coach lurking on the eye side of your head. They might not bust you on the spot. That's the worst part of getting caught by an assistant coach while you stab me with an eye roll.

That assistant will bust in the coach's office and I have all night to stew on it. There are punishments I haven't invented yet for a behind-the-back eye roller. As far as couples go, suck it up and take it like a man because the "Whatever" is given eye ball to eye ball.

The "distance punishment" is the ultimate display of attitude. If you are having a disagreement with your significant other, the biggest, baddest thing they can do is stomp away and slam a door in your face. This is the distance punishment.

I get this all the time in basketball. If someone is taken out of the game and they are unhappy about it, you can bet they'll march to the end of the bench, slam themselves into a chair, fold their arms in front of them and give me the silent treatment. Can it get any better if you want to witness the greatest body language all in the course of 15 seconds?

This is standard procedure for junior-college players. It's easy to break this habit if they are lowly, scared freshmen ripe out of high school. However, if a junior college player comes to Northwest, you can bet the first time they exit a game for a grievous mistake, the distance punishment will be enforced. There's no good way to break this horrible habit, but my suggestion is to do the silent treatment, along with complete lack of eye contact. That eliminates the eye roll defense. The player will eventually get tired of sitting and move closer to the coaches.

If any psychologists read this blog, I'm sure the normal reaction of "He thinks he knows everything," or "He thinks he's never wrong," will be stated. I know Michele, my wife, has uttered those words more than once. But I swear I have 27 years of experience to back my diagnoses. I will now walk away, not saying another word, roll my eyes and get as far away from you as possible. I think I've covered everything.

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From the Spotlight to the Sunlight - April 26, 2011

The spotlight definitely was on the Northwest women's basketball team and coaches this past year. We were on television twice; once during the conference championship game and then ESPNU broadcasted the Final Four game. We had so many great articles in the Maryville Daily Forum, the St. Joseph News-Press and the Missourian that it took four scrapbooks to hold them all. The basketball postseason banquet was another occasion to hand out awards and reflect on the season with about 100 people in attendance.

However, I didn't have long to rest my coaching voice. Within two weeks, the draft for the Little League season was held. My son, Sam, has played since he was 5-years-old for teams that are part of the Maryville Park & Recreation Department. He also has only had one coach and that guy lives in the same house as Sam. Bob Sundell, a Maryville attorney has assisted me since that first T-ball practice. As the calendar turned to April, practices went from a constant 72 degrees to the chilly spring of the great outdoors. The spotlight has been traded for the sunlight, mostly blocked by cloud cover.

I want to tell you what I find out in the sunlight. First, I want to describe for you what our sponsor, Preferred Lightning, really does. Did you know that Maryville was once known as the lightning engineering capitol of America (maybe the world)? Some of the firms have sold out and left Maryville, but Preferred Lightning is working all over the Midwest and the nation. It's a family business and Chris Pettlon is the father of Keyton, one of our players and owner of the company.

The only lightning engineering function I knew about before I moved to Maryville was the lightning rods installed on my grandfather's barn. Soon after I moved to Maryville, one of the lightning engineering owners that had sold his company was sitting beside me at a birthday breakfast for a past president of the university. In conversation, he told me he had one job to finish up. In my feeble mind, I thought maybe it was a big barn on a dairy farm. When I asked where, he told me Cairo, like in Egypt. They were working on a nuclear power plant. That set me straight on the importance of lightning engineering. Chris travels all over, protecting important structures from nature's wrath. I'm not sure what's tougher on him, the blinding heat of the summer or the harsh cold of the winter. What I do know is he writes a check to the Park & Rec Department to sponsor our team. We will proudly wear Preferred Lightning on our game shirts.

I have 12 players on my team and I am not the only coach. Jeff Patton, whose family owned the Miller beer distributing center when it was located in Maryville, is one of the main coaches, as is Sundell, who has put up with me the past seven years. The parents of my players are a diverse group. You know about Chris, the lightning engineer. Chris will throw batting practice and helps when he can. Bob's an attorney, like I mentioned earlier. I have Dale, a state patrolman and one of the busiest youth soccer coaches in Maryville. Darren, Brady's father, is a manager at Hy-Vee. All these guys are willing to help with the coaching duties, which I will use to our advantage.

Having father's with professions ranging from beer salesman to state patrol to Hy-Vee manager should allow us to throw a heck of a picnic and have a police escort to boot. I don't know many of the mother's professions, but I know a few of them will help with the baseball team, too. What the unsuspecting parents don't know yet, is I need a pitch counter, a scorebook keeper, and worst of all, a volunteer umpire. Get ready parents, I'll get you all involved.

Four of the players have played on our teams in the past. Park & Rec baseball begins at age five, with two years of T-ball. Now there is an experience for anyone who thinks they want to coach. Keeping them from building castles out of the infield dirt or picking four leaf clovers is the biggest challenge of T-ball. My first team was sponsored by the Maryville Lions. Before the batter swung at the tee, I had my team growl like a lion. They only paid attention marginally better, but for a while we scared the heck out of the batters.

Next comes coach-pitch baseball as the second level of Park & Rec baseball. A coach pitches to the batter and everyone fields the hits, which mostly go to the first baseman or the pitcher, who really isn't pitching. It doesn't matter how good the coach-pitcher is, some kids just can't hit the ball. It has to be rough on the spectators, mostly parents and relatives, watching a kid swing and miss for 10 minutes. If the coach-pitcher is really good, he can strike the hitter's bat with the pitch.

Next Little League begins in earnest with 9- and 10-year-old baseball. We finally keep score and youthful pitchers throw to the nine youthful hitters. Thank goodness there is a six-run, per inning limit. Even if the umpires have a huge strike zone, walks are the easiest way to reach base. Whoever came up with the statement, "A walk is as good as a hit," obviously wasn't in the stands to watch the walk parade.

This year, I find myself coaching 11- and 12-year-old boys. Jalen and Sam have played on the same team for every division of baseball. Of course, that's because Bob and I coach together. Terrance is back with us. I think he played for us a couple of years ago, but the years run together. I know he's gotten a lot better than the first time he stepped on the field. Tristen is the other player I have previously coached. He was the catcher of our 9- and 10-year-old team. One hot Saturday morning, I did the nearly impossible. First I made Tristen cry when he couldn't catch Sam's pitches. Sam was understanding and tried to console Tristen. However, he later became frustrated when a few players blasted his pitches over charging outfielders' heads. As I went to take him out of the game, of course, he was crying, too. In one game, I made the catcher and pitcher both cry. Way to go coach.

As we met as a team for the first time, the most important question is do you pitch or catch? I was really dumb to think I didn't know the answer. Nine of the 12 players said they would be the next Nolan Ryan if I just gave them a chance. Ten of the 12 players stated they could catch as well as Johnny Bench if only I let them put on the equipment. Notably missing from the catchers was Tristen. One round catching with me as a coach was enough I guess.

I guess I will have to hurt some feelings. We will let all nine potential pitchers give it a shot at some point in the season. I just hope we can find a couple that can find the strike zone. We won't give all 10 interested in catching a chance. It takes too long to put on the equipment. I'll just ask who among the 10 have brought their cup. If they know what body part that protects, they get a shot at catching.

During the recent NCAA II Elite Eight in St. Joseph, I got into a small feud with Roberta, the NCAA person in charge of the women's basketball championship. It was something simple about how fast my team broke the huddle after timeouts. There is nothing simple about Little League rules. The Little League is a nation-wide organization. They are the organization that runs the televised Little League World Series. See if you can follow some of their rules.

Are you ready? I'm going to go fast with the rules. You don't need any rest if you throw less than 20 pitches in a game, but you need four days rest if you throw more than 65 pitches. If you throw 41 pitches in a game, you can't play catcher. On-deck hitters are not allowed, but "courtesy" base runners are. If you catch four innings you can't pitch, but if you are taken out of a game, you can come back in, if and only IF your substitute has played six consecutive outs and batted at least once. Being a "courtesy" runner doesn't count. There are "special" pinch hitters and you can't leave the base to steal until the pitch reaches the batter. You must slide coming home if there's a throw or you are OUT. There's many more, but I'm sure I'm out.

You might think I take on this coaching just to relax. Forget that thought. My fellow coaches disagree with me more than my assistant basketball coaches. The players are sure I don't know what I'm talking about including my own son. When I give one of the players other than Sam some advice, they appreciate the fact I am trying to teach. When I try to do the same with Sam, it goes like this, "Dad, you never give me encouragement." We haven't started playing yet, but I'm pretty I'm on the last year of my contract with the baseball team. I think I might just move from the penthouse to the you-know-what house.

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Final Thoughts from a Final Four Season - April 19, 2011

I know what you are thinking, "Another women's basketball story. Haven't we beaten the Final Four season to death by now?" The press has been really good to us. Our sports information department has been good to us. David Boyce, a part-time writer for Northwest and a former Kansas City Star journalist has been good to us. If you get a chance, read his story called What a Ride. . . that's on the women's basketball Web site. However, I want to do one final blog that gives some final thoughts on our season that only a coach or player could know.

The question that has been asked of me the most by the press and fans is when I knew that Kyla Roehrig, our 6-4 ex-volleyball player, would be as good as she turned out to be. My answer always is, "The first time I saw her practice." I remember that moment exactly. My assistants had told me she could really play. I had personally seen her perform in our "individuals" which meant groups of four. However, sometime during that first practice of the year, on October 15, I watched Kyla hammer away on her new teammates. I don't remember who was standing by me when I said, "She could make us significant nationally."

At that moment, I knew a lot of things had to fall into place. The team had to survive until Gentry Dietz became eligible on December 18. Our players had to avoid major injuries, which we did. We all had to have patience with Kyla as her muscle memory changed from volleyball skills to basketball coordination. It all fell into place as easily as a kid's puzzle. However, my "national significance" statement wasn't real accurate. We finished ranked fourth in the nation, a little more significant than I imagined in October.

Another moment that made me think we might be a top-eight team nationally came after our narrow win at Missouri Western. It didn't look like a narrow win at halftime. We had just scorched the nets for 53 first-half points and led by 16. Western did cut it to one possession in the second half, but we recovered to win 91-82. It was these types of games that became the staple of our season. We would jump on teams early, fight off mid-game surges, then control the endings with great free-throw shooting.

After the win, the Western coach, Lynn Plett, was very complimentary of our first-half performance. He mentioned he thought it would be hard for anyone to beat us if we played that well. Coach Plett thought we had a shot at the Elite Eight in St. Joseph. That was a thought that stuck with me the rest of the season.

December 4 was very significant date for the Bearcats. On that night, we scored an unlikely 78 points at Washburn. However, we were beaten 81-78. The scoring explosion was led by Shelly Martin, who had 21 points and six assists. Lost in all the offense was the mere three points contributed by Gabby Curtis. That would be the only time all season that Gabby's offensive output would not reach double figures. Ironically, on January 26, Gabby scored an equal number of points on one amazing shot late in the game as the Bearcats pulled away from the Lady Blues and into first place in the MIAA. Gabby and her teammates would never give up first place the rest of the season.

At about 7 p.m. on December 8, I gave a big sigh of relief. That was the night we went to Pitt State and won 84-72. That ended a two-game losing streak. The conference schedule had not been kind the Bearcats. We began the conference season with four consecutive road games. We had lost close games at Emporia and Washburn, and we still faced tough tests at Pittsburg and UNO. It was absolutely crucial for Northwest to get back on the winning track. Coming home for Christmas with a 4-4 record wasn't acceptable.

It looked like it was going to be easy. We jumped out to a 28-point lead only 16 minutes into the game. Then Lane Lord, the Pitt coach, did something that would make him a threat to anyone in the MIAA the rest of the season. He changed from a zone defense to a man-to-man team. It got him back into the game. The Gorilla's got it under 10 points halfway through the first half. Not only was it a dogfight the rest of the way but for the next two times we faced them. Coach Lord's team went from a porous defense to one of the stingiest defenses in the MIAA in one half of basketball. We would go on to only lose three more times the rest of the year despite our brief, two-game losing streak.

When head trainer Kelly Quinlin told me we had Nick Peters as our trainer for this year, I didn't know what to think. Nick came back to replace one of the graduate assistants, who took an early job. Injuries, or lack of them, are always important to the success of a basketball season. A lot can go wrong during the seven-month long season. I am not discounting the great rehab that Kelly gives our players. She is the best at healing injured players. However, I have to give Nick a lot of credit. He knew how important it was to get our kids back on the floor. If some player was nicked (appreciate the pun?) up, I would ask Nick, "How long are they out?" With every minor injury, I got the same, "They'll be ready to play the next game." I think we only lost one player to a game. Shelly Martin had the flu for the Truman game. I almost got sick at Truman, too.

Speaking of Truman, the MIAA game in Kirksville was very memorable. We squeaked out a double-overtime game and probably didn't deserve to win. Like I mentioned, Shelly was sick and didn't make the trip. However, her dad was there to cheer us on. That showed the dedication of our hardcore fans. Shelly's throwing up in Maryville and dad's making sure we don't mess up in Kirksville. The memorable moment of that game wasn't the fact it went into double overtime, but the performance of Ashley Thayer.

Ashley usually came off the bench and would play about 10 minutes per game. She started the Truman game in Shelly's absence. The sophomore sharp-shooter played more than 40 minutes. You would think fatigue would affect her play. However, she hit the two biggest shots of the game. With the Bearcats trailing by three points with less than a minute to go in regulation, Ashley hit a 3-point shot to tie the game. She tied the game with another three-pointer in the first overtime. Her shots were the biggest in one of our biggest wins of the year.

Something else happened in Kirksville. No, it wasn't the funeral procession we had to pull over for in Brookfield. It had nothing to do with the double-overtime game. After we arrived in Kirksville, Melissa (Mo) Nyquist found she had left her green jersey in Maryville. Our official roster had already been recorded. The only way to get her in the game was by way of a technical foul. The biggest sigh of relief over the close win came from Mo.

That leads me right into my favorite player quote of the year. It came from none other than our guard who had to suffer through the Truman game listening to the radio while she didn't stray far from her bathroom, Shelly Martin. It came after one of the first practices with Kyla at the post. Remember, Gentry couldn't even practice until December 18. Shelly had just lobbed a pass over everyone's head to the waiting hands of the former Minnesota volleyball star. Kyla then laid it gently off the glass for an easy lay-up. Shelly said, "That's my new favorite thing to do." It also became one of my favorites.

A private moment came both before the season began and after the season ended. As a coach, you always try to be honest with your players. You answer the questions they ask as honestly as you can. Sometimes, there is a tricky balance between honesty and providing hope and incentive for the players. Jenn Jasinski, a sophomore guard-forward combination player, came to see me at the beginning of pre-season drills. She was considering not playing and moving closer to her Michigan home. I encouraged her to take a week off and think about it. Jenn is a great person and an excellent student. However, playing time was no guarantee.

Over my 27 years as a head coach, I have asked several players to take a week to consider their decision to play, just as I had for Jenn. I'm pretty sure they all chose to quit after more thought. However, after a week, Jenn came back to see me. I won't deny I was shocked when she said she was ready to give it her best shot. Jenn did give it her best shot. She worked as hard or harder than anyone on the team. She never missed a practice or game. Jenn played any and all the positions in order to set herself up for more playing time. However, college basketball isn't always fair. With no major injuries and too many players ahead of her, Jenn didn't play a lot. She was a great teammate in many other ways and deserves a lot of credit in helping the team succeed.

After the season ended, the inevitable visit from Jenn happened. I knew it was coming and I was ready for the worst. She had every right to tell me I had misled her about playing time. Do you realize how hard it is to predict how much someone will play? Jenn came in, said she would probably go to school closer to home next year. She might try to play again, but she wasn't sure. Then she showed what a great teammate and person that she had displayed all year. "I don't regret my decision to play this year," Jenn told me. "I had a great time." I hope all of her teammates felt the same.

There were two difficult moments during the season. The first came during our first exhibition game at Creighton. The Blue Jays beat us by 35 points. We didn't score for the first eight minutes of the game, so it's amazing we scored 61 points. It was never a competitive game. I had hoped for more, even if Kyla and Gentry did not play. It was hard for me to tell if Jim Flanery, the Creighton head coach, was upset at the lack of competition. Assistant Blue Jay coach, Steve Huber, tried to comfort me, but I was really, really worried.

Our next action was a scrimmage against Wayne State in Wayne, Neb. This time we had Kyla. It was her first game action in 5 ½ years. The Wildcats beat us by 21 points. We kept it close the first half, but it wasn't pretty after that. Wayne's head coach, Chris Kielsmeier, tried to think of something positive to say to me. "I think you'll be fine when you get all your big kids back," he told me. The emphasis was on "I think." It was a memorable day for another reason. The football team had beaten Central Missouri on a miracle comeback. At least we had one top-four program at Northwest.

Little did we know that Coach Kielsmeier's thoughts, whether he believed them or not, Coach Plett's prediction, and my statement with the first sight of Kyla on the court would all come true. The season is seven months long. It's funny the things you remember along the way. I hope we have many more of those thoughts next season.

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Humor in a Humorless Weekend - April 12, 2011

This past weekend, I did not coach my college team. I did not coach my son, Sam's team. My grandson, Jacob, played on a Stanberry team that was coached by someone else. Not one person asked me to step in and coach while they got a drink or went to the bathroom. I was basically a spectator. Yet, more people raised their voices in anger to me than during any time during the past 12 months. I'll bet during the past season, people debated my coaching decisions, but they respectfully kept those opinions to themselves. This weekend, no one seemed to mind expressing their opinion to me face-to-face. This weekend marked the 11^th annual Slam & Jam Bearcat Basketball Tournament, designed for boys' and girls' youth basketball.

I told my staff that next year I want them to put me in a coma on Friday night and drag me out of it late Sunday afternoon. Also, they need to hide me so those fans of youth basketball that are unhappy with my tournament can't find me. You know, most people believe that people in comas can hear people talk around them. I'll bet someone would try to tell me to find new officials or that they got tired of playing in the Recreation Center courts. It wouldn't matter I couldn't respond.

I would guess 95 percent of the coaches and fans that came to this year's Slam & Jam were great people. They were complimentary to my staff, they were good parents to their kids and patient coaches for their teams. Sam's coach, Bob Sundell, was one of those coaches. I'm pretty sure Bob might have grumbled about a call under his breath or even firmly suggested to his son, Jalen, to cut off the baseline, but he did a great job handling his fifth-grade team. He was one of the 95 percent. Unfortunately, the other five percent could drive me to drink. Maybe that's how I'll go into a self-induced coma next year.

Two coaches were kicked out of games with two technical fouls. One was a coach for a sixth-grade boy's team and the other coached a junior high boy's team. Two different games had six technical fouls called during the course of the 32-minute, running-clock game. Security had to stand guard at several hotly-contested games. After one of those games, they kicked the losing team out of the gym after they verbally attacked the officials after the post-game handshakes. I had one team drop out 24 hours before it began and another two failed to show up for scheduled games. I'm sure they had good excuses, but if you add it all up, it amounts to a humorless weekend for my staff and me.

That's not true. We have been laughing about it all day today. I asked my staff to write down the best quotes they heard this weekend. We have had a ball laughing at the expense of some very tacky comments from fans, coaches and players. I am going to share them with you. I hope you see the humor in them, also.

"Someone is going to get hurt!" It took all of three games to first hear the most common line uttered in protest of the officials. They are referring to the helter-skelter play of young boys and girls who haven't quite gained their full coordination. Sometimes their coordination is fine, but their judgment is really screwed up. A kid dribbling full speed, with their eyes focused directly on the floor and attempting to split a triple team is a sure thing if you're looking for a turnover. Also, it means three or four bodies flying on the floor. That's when that concerned mother that yells, "Someone is going to get hurt!" Just once, I want a referee to walk up to that mother and say, "You're right, get your kid under control!" Of course, that would cause more trouble than an earthquake, so the referee always just smiles and calls the offensive foul.

"That official is in our kid's heads," uttered one concerned parent. You see, the team that had the official in their head had received six technical fouls in a previous game the official worked for them. It didn't matter that the official was a long-time high school official and now did collegiate games. It must be his fault for the six technical fouls. My advice was to tell your kids to shut up or they would get another six technical fouls. Of course he disagreed, but his son's teammates must have learned a lesson. The game went off with hardly a disagreement.

Probably the most violent quote came from a fan (maybe mother) of a sixth grader. I had already been called to the gym because the coach had been kicked out. I was standing a few feet from this opinionated fan when she yelled in a voice that could have got her arrested in a different setting, "You are a freakin' idiot!" She was referring to an official, another veteran of high school games. I turned and told her that another comment would get her removed. I was referring to calling a grown man trying to keep control of a very hectic sixth grade an "idiot." Several people around her were trying to subdue her comments. They weren't succeeding. She looked at me a shrugged, "I only said freakin'." I never tried to explain why the term idiot might have been misplaced on the wrong person.

I think I might have had a fellow blogger in the crowd of one of the ninth grade boys' games. Several technical fouls had been called. The coach had been tossed. When the game was over, a female fan (probably a mother) said, "The least I could do is write an article about this." I'm not sure where the article was going to appear. She never showed us a press-pass. I would really like to read that article. I'm sure that official's calls had caused most of the offending team to seek counseling immediately after the game.

I had one young official do exactly the right thing and still got a bad remark from the crowd. However, it is pretty funny. A fan was disagreeing with a call. My official, who was a very young female, simply turned toward the criticizing adult and smiled. That's when the laughable quote came. "I bet they pay you $35 to stand there and smile," the fan belched out at my official. The line is very funny, but the sad part is the official only got $12 having to listen to this very irate fan.

One of the parent-assistant coaches is someone I know and like. I have to admit that on the bench of his son's sixth-grade games, this father is a lot more animated than the calm, profession attitude he puts on at work. I wasn't at the game, but Addae Houston, an assistant coach of mine and a very good official, was working his game. Addae suggested he stay off the floor or he would have to leave the bench. The father said, "I guess I'll have to go talk to Gene," meaning a meeting with me. Addae shot right back, "I've worked for Stein for five years, so let's go talk to him." I never got that meeting. A father in the stands who happens to work many Division I men's games, heard the exchange and gave Addae an "A" for defusing the situation.

The last two quotes absolutely gave me belly laughs. I won't identify this person, but she is from Maryville, has a son play on a sixth-grade team and her husband is the coach. You need to know that when we divide the teams into divisions, we do so by grades and not by ages. That does allow for some dishonesty since we don't require birth certificates. The team Maryville was playing had a really big sixth grader. I think he needed a shave. The mother whispered to me, "I'll bet he spent the best three years of his life in sixth grade." I really had to swallow my belly laugh so not to interrupt the game.

The final quote was blurted out to Tara Roach, a popular player for the Bearcats. She got stuck officiating a couple of games. Anyone who has seen us play knows Tara is a good-looking college kid. She has long, wild blond hair and a crazy smile. I hate to say this, but Tara doesn't wear out her whistle. She lets her officiating partner handle the hard part. After one of her games against a high school boys' team, a drooling high school kid said to Tara, "Do you want to be my baby's momma?" I'm sure he didn't stick around for the answer.

Thank goodness for the humor in this very tough weekend. I do have one last thing to say. Sam's team, the Northwest Extreme fifth grade team, got second in their division to the Seneca Celtics. The last game was especially competitive. Both coaches worked hard getting their players to do the right thing, but never degraded a player. The players had fun. Also, the parents shouted 99 percent encouragement to their team and the other 1 percent was a quiet, "I don't think so," to a suspected bad call. When the game was over, the teams shook hands, the coaches complimented each other, and not a negative word was said to the officials. I wonder if they want to give a clinic next year. It could save me a coma.

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Give Thanks in Two Minutes - April 6, 2011

Personally, I hate awards shows. Maybe the red carpet is interesting to some people. Maybe, watching people perform in their "gone to award show clothes" is interesting to some segments of the population. Maybe some people can't wait for parts of the speeches where they thank everyone from their mom to their fifth grade teacher. I personally don't like any of it, especially the speeches. I hear the winners are told to thank and get off the stage in two minutes. As much as I dislike it, I am going to take my two minutes right now. Read fast!

There is a pretty fierce rivalry between the NCAA II college in St. Joseph and the one down the road in Maryville. The sparks often fly during athletic events. One of the first Western - Northwest basketball game was a real eye-opener to me. Tom Smith, Western's coach, and Steve Tappmeyer, Northwest's coach, spent more time grabbing their players so they wouldn't take a swing at an opponent than they did coaching. I didn't know at the time, but Tom and Steve are best friends. Friends are not how I would describe that night in 2000.

My first introduction into how Western felt about Northwest came from Western's late athletic director, Pete Chapman. You had to be really cruel to dislike my first team at Northwest. How can you hate a team that loses all 18 conference games? Dave Slifer, then Western's women's coach, had been a friend of mine for years. In truth, when we went to visit the Griffins in January, there wasn't much drama about who would win. I was wearing dress pants and a sweater in case any of you are red carpet watchers. Pete came up to Dave and me. He looked me over and said, "Can't they afford to pay you enough at Northwest so you can dress up for games?" I laughed thinking he was joking. Pete never cracked a smile.

When St. Joseph was awarded the Elite Eight for the first time, I thought it would be a dream come true to qualify for the event. Washburn and Emporia each made it to St. Joseph over the four years Joe Town has hosted the NCAA II Elite Eight. This year, the dream came true for my Northwest team. The fans from Northwest were terrific, as usual, but what made the event special for my players and I were the way the Missouri Western athletic department and the Griffin fans treated us during our two-game stay. I'm going to take my two minutes to say Thank You!

I'm going to mention a few names and of course I will forget many people. In truth, at my advanced age, there were many, many people that were great to us and I didn't even know their names, especially fans of Missouri Western. I guess it's a sign of advanced age.

I had only shaken hands with the present Western athletic director, David Williams. That hardly can be classified as knowing the boss of Griffon sports. After the four days in March when we made St. Joseph our home, I now can say I know and truly like David Williams. David was professional, friendly, helpful and even calming as I blew my cork at some less sympathetic NCAA official. I heard one particular NCAA official can hold a grudge. It was a lot of work and stress, but David and his staff came through in flying colors.

Western's senior administrator is Patsy Smith. She also is the wife of men's basketball coach, Tom Smith. I know and respect both Smith's from my association with them during my 12 years at Northwest. Patsy was terrific with everyone from Northwest during our stay. Being the wife of Tom can't be all that easy. My wife will definitely tell you it's not easy being related to me. However, Patsy kept Tom at home while she very efficiently helped run the Elite Eight.

I've delayed long enough. I can't go any longer without mentioning Brett Easley. I only knew Brett as the over-dressed administrator that ran promotions at the MIAA Tournament. The first time I saw him on the Sunday before the Elite Eight, Brett was pacing the floor waiting for the Northwest party. We were late. In truth, Wren Baker, our new athletic director, Lori Hopkins, our new compliance officer (and my old assistant coach), Meghan Nelson, my new assistant coach, and me went to the wrong door and were a few minutes late getting to the meeting.

Brett looked stressed, but I think it was because of the heat brought down on him from one particular NCAA official. I think she is the one who can hold grudges and being late qualified us. However, Brett could not have been nicer.

I was soon to find out that the event should not have been called the Elite Eight. When in St. Joseph, it should be called the Brett Easley Invitational. You only get invited if you have a three-game winning streak from your region. There would be no Elite Eight without Brett. David Williams said so, coaches who had been to last year's Elite Eight said so, and surprisingly, so did that one particular NCAA official who holds grudges.

A man that consistently put himself above all the coaches is Ryan Menley. Ryan's not stuck up. It's just that every time you see Ryan, he's on a stand filming Elite Eight games. Over the years, I have had a lot of fun with Ryan. When he was the KQ-2 Sports Director, he did special spots on Sam, my son, and me on Father's Day, Josh Kester and me on lack of recognition for the nationally-ranked Missouri Western team, Sam, again my son, on an Alex Rodriguez special about his steroid use, and doing a Northwest highlight tape from 2010 that still isn't completed.

Ryan won the hearts of all Northwest fans when he did a live interview with Sam, again my son, in 2007. Western was about to clinch the conference regular season championship. Ryan bought my gullible son a Western T-shirt and did a live interview with Sam while the Western team was clinching the championship. I got a few calls on that one.

Now a Western employee, Ryan does a masterful job of filming all games, exchanging flash drives, and following strict NCAA guidelines about who and when to give coaches the flash drives. You don't want to irritate that one particular NCAA official who holds grudges.

The present Western coach is Lynn Plett. Lynn and I have been friends from the first time I met him. He hasn't ever criticized my wardrobe like Pete. During Lynn's run at Western, injuries have plagued his teams. He came within a freckle of beating Emporia and probably facing us in the MIAA Tournament this year. I would have rather faced the Hornets. When Lynn was hospitalized with a ruptured appendix, Sam and I visited him, just after my team had placed a group call to Lynn as he lay healing in Heartland Hospital.

You can't find a much nicer guy than Lynn. I was happy for his success this year. When we played in St. Joseph this year, we had to play our best half of the year to barely squeak out a win. He was at the tournament and was great to my team and me.

Finally, I have to give props to the media in St. Joseph. KQ2 Sports Lance Snow and Nathan Thomas have been great all year. No offense to Lance, but when Nathan followed us to Tahlequah, Okla., for the regional tournament, he became a favorite of mine. The lodging budget Nathan received did not put him in great parts of town. He risked life and limb when traveling on icy roads to attend our media luncheons. Let's face it, the food and company were cheap and good in Maryville. It stayed within the KQ2 budget (since it was free). That's better than he found in Tahlequah.

I finally got to meet Cody Thorn. Cody had only been a voice that called me after longer road trips. He took my quotes and patiently let me rant and rave about each game. Then he somehow managed to fashion it into a story for the St. Joe News Press. By the way, he doesn't look like he sounds on the phone.

The other member of the News Press is Sam Robinson. Sam is our in-person reporter. As with most beat writers, Sam has his quirks. So do women basketball coaches. However, Sam can really write sports. I have always said that newspaper reporters are one of the few people that are immortal. What I mean is Sam's articles will be read again and again, as long as teams have reunions and colleges have Hall of Fames. Sam could even make the green of Northwest look inviting.

If you have read all thank you's in two minutes, I have accomplished my goal. Hopefully, that one particular NCAA official won't hold a grudge.

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The Puzzle - March 28, 2011

I love analogies. The definition of an analogy is "different things in order to highlight some point of similarity." Sigmund Freud said it best when he explained, "Analogies prove nothing, but they can make one feel more at home."

The 2010-11 women's basketball team resembles the jigsaw puzzles I used to put together with my grandparents when I was a kid. That's an analogy that absolutely doesn't prove a thing, but just thinking about all the hours I spent with my grandparents does make me feel at home. My mother died when I was eight and I spent a lot of time on the farm with my grandparents. We had a black and white television with three channels. There was a radio that had so much static with a few clouds in the sky you had to guess at what was said. There was the box of toys which really were left over parts from worn out kitchen appliances and torn apart dressers. However, it was the jigsaw puzzles that provided hours and hours of entertainment. So did this year's basketball team.

When you put one of those 1,500-piece jigsaw puzzles together, grandpa and I would always separate all the pieces with a flat side. There was a 90 percent chance they were part of the outer boundary. It was the other 10 percent with a flat side that made the puzzle a real challenge. The basketball team met for the first time at the end of August with their boundary firmly in place. All four sides seemed solid because we returned every significant player from the previous year.

That's the good news. The bad news is one of the best players, Gentry Dietz, would not join the team until December 18. The NCAA had decided to only award one semester of eligibility to Gentry. That left a large gap in the boundary. One other piece of bad news was the returning team had lost 15 games in 2009-10. Had they matured enough to be a contender? Could we reach the .500 level? Could we get to the upper half of the MIAA? There definitely were a few gaps in the boundary of our jigsaw puzzle.

Can you picture this 1,500-piece jigsaw puzzle? Can you imagine the boundary almost complete? Then during the first week of school, Kyla Roehrig came into my office and asked to play. The analogy with a jigsaw puzzle is in the middle of a puzzle is a small part that has a different color than the rest of the puzzle. If we could find this piece with the right color, we would have a head start into the heart of the puzzle. Kyla provided this center piece. She was 6'4" and had been an NCAA Division I volleyball player at Minnesota. Despite not playing for five years, Kyla had a lot of skills that would help us. The puzzle suddenly had promise. It had potential. However, we all know how lethal potential can be.

I can picture the jigsaw puzzle like it was yesterday. We are in the old farm house, sitting at a shaky card table with 1,500 pieces of a puzzle. The box lid that has the picture of the puzzle is on the corner of the table. We have the boundary almost complete and a start into the heart of the puzzle. Now, we needed to fill in the corners. We would start working our way toward the middle.

The season is now into December. Thanks to Kyla and all our returning players, we are 4-0 and ready to start MIAA play. First up is defending national champion, Emporia. That game is followed up three days later with a date with undefeated and No. 5 Washburn. Both of those games were on the road. However, so were the next two games at Pitt State and UNO. We lost a 10-point game at Emporia, but it had been a single-digit game almost the entire time. Then we led Washburn with 26 seconds left only to lose by three. That's two road loses to ranked teams. The corners began to fill in with our puzzle. Then we beat Pitt and UNO. Remember, all this was without Gentry. I can almost see the background of the puzzle forming before my eyes.

Then Gentry showed up. The same Gentry Dietz that was a first-team, All-MIAA player from the year before. The same Gentry that set the school record for blocks in one season. Remember, Gentry hadn't practice with us all season. It started slowly. Gentry hit double figures in her first game, but it wasn't the same, old Gentry.

Then I saw it happening. Any ego Gentry had developed her great junior season was now gone. Gentry didn't have to score to be happy. She didn't have to block a lot of shots to be happy. The team just had to win.

However, Gentry wasn't finished in her evolution to the 2011 season. As the team kept winning, her dominance came back. Gabby Curtis was still scoring a lot of points, Kyla was blocking anything in sight, and Shelly Martin was filling up the nets with her three-point field goals. Now, Gentry was scoring. She was blocking shots and even guarding much smaller players. Gentry was back and dominating, not as a post but as a forward. The puzzle was starting to close in.

As with any good jigsaw puzzle, it was time to get serious. Now we go for the guts of the puzzle. We have all the pieces separated by color and shapes. The conference season is closing down. Becoming a stale team is one of my biggest fears. The team was leading the MIAA, and that was something new to us.

Back on the farm with the jigsaw puzzle, as an 8-year-old, I was becoming stale. I must have stared at that image for hours and the progress was painfully slow. I need a detonator to motivate me for the final push. I have to fill in the final pieces. The team had the same analogy. We took a road trip to Hays, Kan. We didn't play too bad, but Fort Hays outscored us by 19 points in the second half, hitting 15 three pointers to beat us by six. Would this be the start of a losing streak? Would we fail to complete the puzzle? Losing was just what we needed. It was our detonator and motivator. The Bearcats would explode from that loss for 11 consecutive wins. We clinched our first-ever MIAA regular season championship.

We did lose our last game to Missouri Southern, but that just made us more mad. We beat three good teams, including a 16-point win over Emporia in the MIAA championship game. Then came the best motivator of them all - the NCAA decided that a regular season and tournament championship wasn't enough for them and sent us to Oklahoma for the first three rounds of the NCAA Tournament.

The puzzle was complete. Maybe one small piece was lost when we came up one game short of the national championship game. However, with the great fans of Northwest Missouri State and our record-breaking year, we could live with one missing piece.

We have officially started our off-season. We'll finish up this season with a banquet in April before graduation. We'll say goodbye to Kyla Roehrig, Gentry Dietz, Gabby Curtis, and Mellissa Nyquist. Then we'll do what all good puzzle workers do - we'll tear down the 2011 version and begin to build the 2012 puzzle. Grandpa would be proud.