On paper it sounded like a good idea—take the varsity boys’ basketball team I was coaching to a team camp at Michigan Technological University.
We drove up on Thursday and stayed the night at a local hotel. Friday breakfast was pretty good. There was plenty to eat at the continental breakfast, so I encouraged all the lads to fill their faces full because it was going to be a long, long day.
Ryan modeling
We chugged up the hill to the gym. It was show time. We walked into one of the gyms, looked around, and noticed all the other teams in this gym were doing the same—scoping out the competition. People who follow sports sometimes say, “Well, on paper, such and such a team should have no problem beating their opponent tonight.” That is not a wise thing to say because another sports adage is, “On any given night, any team can beat another team,” and most of the time that is true. But I’m sure when the other teams saw us straggle into the gym having just survived a nine hour “smell-a-thon,” they were licking their chops.
The rules for the team camp were thus: Each game would consist of two twenty-minute running halves. We would also have two refs per contest. We later found out that some of the refs were actual “I took the test and passed” officials while others were MTU athletes from various sports who had not passed an officials’ exam. Shoot, I recognized one of the guys in stripes as the dude who used to work on my car when we lived in Hancock; he was licensed and one of the best at the camp.
Our first opponent was made up of football players, and they promptly rag-dolled us up and down the court. My guys were no wimps, but the other fellers were raw-boned mean—the kind that took no prisoners. We lost the first game by seven, which wasn’t bad at all considering there was a roughing-the-quarterback call the refs missed and a few grabbing-the-facemask penalties that weren’t called, either. It turned out to be our worst loss of the whole camp. Not bad. Not bad at all.
I checked with my players. They were fine. How the first game was played let them know what to expect the rest of the WrestleMania weekend.
Our next game we won, and then the next one as well. My players had adapted to the playing style of their opponents, and we were burying our three-pointers. Ryan brought the ball down across half court. The ball passed around a few times, then back to Ryan who hoisted it from behind the line, and then nothing but net. Eddie and Carl were driving to the hole; Zach was rebounding and playing tight defense; and PJ was posting up the other center.
We rebounded and pushed the ball. If we slowed up it was because there wasn’t a layup available. And when we did pull the ball out, our threes were deadly.
Before I knew it, we had played seven more games and won them all. Almost all of the teams played a man-to-man defense, but we played a 1-2-2 hybrid, which meant part of the time we were man-to-man and the other, a zone.
Friday night fell, and so did my team—straight into bed. They were exhausted after playing eight games that day. We only had three subs, and the subs weren’t sure how to run the offenses; nor were they up to speed on the “12” defense. Couldn’t blame them though. Even some of the starters still had brain cramps once in a while trying to remember what was what.
Phil out cold
Saturday had us scheduled for four games. My guys were whipped. The gyms were hot due to a lack of air conditioning, and running up and down the court for hours at a time has a way of catching up to you.
It definitely caught up with our driver and assistant coach, Phil.
At breakfast on Saturday, David, one of the junior varsity players who came on the trip, took my message of getting enough to eat to heart. He was a tall, skinny kid and was putting the food away like he had not eaten in a month. I reminded him that we had some games to play and that I didn’t want him getting sick on the court.
“I don’t really know the plays, Coach, so I don’t figure I’ll play much,” he responded while shoveling in yet another helping of eggs.
Welp, the lad did have a point.
We lost the first three games on that Saturday by no more than five points. The teams we played had an abundance of subs, which was something our team lacked. But my guys played hard and did not quit. Every one of those games came down to the wire. I was really proud of the way each and every one of them performed.
Cousin Carl stares at Eddie and PJ asleep at the table
Finally, the last game of basketball team camp arrived. I was wondering what the guys had left in their tanks. The drive and the exhaustion had taken its toll.
“Alright, guys. One game left. Let’s show this other team what you’re made of!” I hollered.
My team responded in a huge way and blew out the other team. It wasn’t even close.
The tourney ended. We finished up with an 8-4 record and had even beaten some teams that were in a higher classification. As a matter of fact, we were the talk of the tourney. Several coaches expressed their feelings about how hard my guys had played, their sportsmanship, and their skill level. One coach who had watched us get manhandled during our first game told me how surprised he was that we were able to turn it around. He also said we were fun to watch play—tough defense, pushing the ball on the outlet, and loading up the three point shots. I told him thanks and that I appreciated his team taking it easy on us physically during our first game—no one ended up on injured reserve. We both laughed.
All of the praise and accolades were because our team was a group of guys who played hard, listened to the coach, and believed in each other. They were successful on the court because they were successful young men.
It was early Saturday afternoon. The camp was done, but we weren’t scheduled to leave until Sunday. What to do? I asked the guys and found out that most of them had never been to Lake Superior.
Alrighty, then.
CCHA visits Lake Superior
We dove the nine miles, and the guys walked into the world’s largest freshwater lake. The water was extremely cold, so I didn’t require them to swim—just to take a group photo.
We drove back home the next day. I was exhausted and sad, knowing that I would never have the privilege of coaching these guys again. Yes, my guys had been the talk of the camp. I was proud of each and every one of them and hoped they all would remember this trip for years to come.
