There is a basketball doubleheader at Jadwin Gym tonight, beginning with a men's game against Merrimack at 5, followed by the women against Rutgers.
While the subject is basketball, TigerBlog is proud to present today a guest entry from the great Howard Levy, Class of 1985, Princeton's career leader in field goal percentage in men's basketball. Howard is currently the head coach at Mercer County Community College, about 10 miles from the Princeton campus.
There aren't too many deeper thinkers out there than Howard. His takes are always deeply thought out and come from his genuine convictions, and he's always open to a conversation that considers all points of view.
Oh, and just a bit of a warning. Today's guest entry is rated PG-13, for one example of "adult language." TB is pretty sure that you can handle it, especially since 1) it's pretty tame, 2) bleeping it out would lessen the effect and 3) TB heard Pete Carril say it about a billion times.
And now, here are the thoughts of Howard Levy:
“If every
instinct that you have is wrong, then the opposite would have to be right” — Jerry
to George
I have been feeling a lot like
George this season coaching my Mercer team.
We were 0-8 going into this weekend, losing 5 games either in overtime
or in the last couple of possessions, often blowing leads in the process. The prior game at Del Tech was one for the
ages. We blew a 7 point lead in the last
48 seconds and lost in overtime. The
immediate culprits were missed free throws, missed layups, ill-advised shots at
key times, balls slipping out of our hands, and the ensuing doubts that
snowball as these things continue to happen.
“At least you have a chance to win,” some people are saying—everyone
seems to have an opinion on what we need to do at this point. People that are not at practice every day
seem to have a prescription for what we need to do—I’m not sure why 0-8
triggered it. Maybe some brilliant
advice at 0-3 would have helped.
My view of our problems is a bit
different. I’ll admit that I thought our
talent level was higher than it has turned out to be as the limitations of our
players has become apparent. However,
that has never bothered me, as we need to build a team toward our players’
strengths while minimizing their weaknesses.
Of course I was disappointed that players I thought could do certain
things were unable to do them, but that happens to some extent every year.
While making adjustments for
different players and personalities each year, there has been a similar flow to
most of my 15+ seasons at Mercer. My
core belief in basketball is that 5 players working together are way better
than they would be individually. Sounds
simple but making this happen is a difficult process not for the faint of
heart. Kids are being asked to sacrifice
in ways they have not been asked before—to think of the team before you think
of yourself sounds great but almost certainly conflicts with human nature! Additionally, the players that I get at
Mercer are often from environments and basketball programs where this has not
been taught. A large dose of tough love
is required, and being delivered by a 6’10” white guy is also a bizarre new
experience for all. Our teams always
struggle early but at some point things “click” and if that happens early
enough, we give ourselves a chance to make the playoffs and do some
damage. Whenever it occurs, it is an
amazing feeling for me and for the guys, and always leads to positive lasting
feelings about their time at Mercer.
This year, I have been despondent,
not as much about the losing, but about the feeling that this team is not
progressing in the way that I had hoped.
The fact that all my previous teams have “clicked” at some point does
not mean that this group will, and I have not seen evidence of them moving in
that direction. This has been quite
surprising as my 3 key returning players were part of an incredible run at the
end of last season that led us to the playoffs with some of the most beautiful
basketball that I have ever been a part of.
Our undersized, not overly athletic team won 6 straight against great
competition to propel us into the playoffs.
This year, those returners for the most part have been trying to do too
much themselves, not trusting their teammates, which in turn has given license
to our new players to do the same. The
goal for any team is to be better than your individual players, and regardless
of the record, my teams at Mercer have always overachieved in that sense, but thus
far we are exactly as good as our players and that is troubling. Additionally, there had been very little
natural enthusiasm amongst the group, no one to pick anyone up or offer an
encouraging word, and the body language of the players, whether on the court or
on the bench has been terrible.
That has hit me pretty hard, along
with some off-the-court stuff that has plagued us this season (without going
into detail, I would put in the category of “no good deed goes unpunished”) and
my response has not been great or helpful—a lot of anger and frustration that
has come out in practice and in games. It
has impacted my entire life, and I have been moping around for the last couple
of weeks, lamenting the fact that we still have 2 months to go. I have questioned everything about me as a
coach—have I failed to adjust to changes both in the game and in the kids that
I coach? I realize that I am too hard on
myself but that did not make me feel better.
A variety of factors have converged recently
to change my thinking a bit. A month
ago, I was asked to deliver the keynote address at a conference on
sportsmanship for local high school athletes, coaches and administrators. As part of that speech, I talked a good
amount about my background and afterwards I realized that these people learned
more about me and what makes me tick in 30 minutes than my own players, who are
with me every day. That led to some team
building exercises and me being more open and forthcoming in trying to get to
know guys better and letting them know me.
In preparing for this speech, a
friend recommended I learn about a Buddhist concept called Mudita, which he
learned from a book called Help the Helper: Building a Culture of Extreme
Teamwork (https://www.penguinrandomhouse.com/books/311512/help-the-helper-by-kevin-pritchard/). Mudita, which does not have an exact
translation in English but basically means taking joy in the accomplishments of
others without jealousy. In sports, a
teammate who is truly happy for the success of another helps build an amazing
team culture and environment. The book delves
into this and other concepts related to teambuilding, whereby so many of the
actions that are invisible to the outside world are crucial in building a thriving
team. I agree with every word in the
book but realized that I probably have not been practicing steps to build this
type of culture, at least with this year’s team.
So I have been gradually trying to
improve our team culture, but it has been hard because I have been so down in
the dumps, and I have never been one to hide the way that I feel. Then came the Del Tech game, blowing a 7
point lead in the last 48 seconds of the game.
I could barely speak afterwards; I had no answers and wasn’t even sure
what to work on moving forward. The next
day, we had a conditioning session in the weight room and a film session
preceded by a conversation. I shared
some thoughts and asked them for their thoughts and any ideas on what to work
on. There were a couple of minor
suggestions, but the guys that I had hoped to hear from didn’t say a word. I intentionally did not show the worst parts
of the film and I tried to be constructive without getting angry. I think I succeeded but I can never be sure.
On the way
home, still despondent, I started to wonder why this is impacting me so much. In life, I am a pretty laid back guy with a
good demeanor, a good sense of humor, and not to pat myself on the back, but I
know that I am a good and decent person.
I’m definitely sarcastic and a bit of a wiseass, attributable to my
Suffern, NY upbringing I think, but not mean spirited. Yet with my team (and possibly with my kids
when they were little), I get angry to the point where I almost don’t recognize
myself. Is it because these are the
things I care about most, or is it learned behavior from my days playing for
and idolizing in many ways, my college coach, Pete Carril? Either way, I knew I had to make some changes
for the team but also for my own well-being.
I don’t want this team to lead to an early grave for me.
I woke up
the next morning and, with my wife, we had our coffee watching Morning Joe, to
see Joe interviewing the President of Dartmouth, Sian Beilock, about the state
of higher education generally and the things that she has done at
Dartmouth. She was very impressive and I
looked her up and learned that she is a behavioral scientist, and had written a
book called Choke: What the Secrets
of the Brain Reveal About Getting it Right When You Have To (https://www.simonandschuster.com/books/Choke/Sian-Beilock/9781416596189
) and I tuned into her Ted Talk about performing under pressure. She spoke about “paralysis by analysis,”
“overthinking,” and how people can’t even walk without tripping when they are
thinking about putting one foot in front of the other. I realized that this could be what is affecting
my team late in games (though I note that our foul shooting has been
consistently bad for the entire season in games and in practice). I shared the video with the team and tried to
implement some of my learnings in the next day’s practice.
We had a
decent practice and I decided to try something to end the practice on a high
note. I asked my manager to put 60-49 on
the scoreboard and I told the team (16 of them) that each one has 1 free throw,
and let’s win the game, thinking that 12/16 (75%) was achievable, and we would
leave practice feeling good about ourselves with an injection of
confidence. Fifteen minutes and 5
efforts later, we hadn’t come close to making 12, I don’t think we made 10, and
the place was silent, heads down, the exact opposite of what I was trying to
accomplish. I was almost in tears myself
when an idea hit me. I said to the team,
“OK, from now on, when anyone shoots, I want all of you to find the fakest
enthusiasm you can muster and cheer for your teammates until we make
this.” All of a sudden the place came
alive, and whether it was real or fake, there was positive energy (brain
chemistry is real!!!) and we ultimately made it (it is possible that our
manager helped with some creative scorekeeping, but so be it), and went home
feeling good. I also told the guys that
if we won the next day’s game, they could shave my head.
That got
me thinking even more. My whole career
as a coach has been shaped by avoiding anything that could remotely be
considered “phony.” Coach Carril didn’t
believe in any displays of emotion that were not 100% natural—some teams would
have rules about standing up when someone goes out of the game, going down the
bench to shake anyone’s hand, but with Coach, if it wasn’t genuine, he didn’t
want to see it. “Happy horseshit,” he
would call it. In fact, he would
sometimes berate us before games, and say, “now get the f@#$ out there!” But the display of enthusiasm that I saw at
practice actually morphed into something maybe fleeting but real. Maybe when the other team is jumping around
in a huddle before a game, some chemicals are released into the brain that
gives them an advantage to start the game.
So I was
all in for some “happy horseshit” for Friday’s game. Despite the lack of manufactured enthusiasm,
our Princeton program was infused with superstition, a fear of “the whammy.” Don’t
do or say anything that might be perceived as assuming success or you will fail. One superstition that I have maintained as a
coach is that I wear the same clothes when we win and change them when we
lose. I think this began as a convenient
justification to reduce my dry cleaning bills when coaches used to wear suits,
but I stuck with it. This year I was
running out of fresh clothes to wear and decided that it would help to sport my
favorite Hawaiian shirt which I kept hidden under my Mercer sweatshirt until
the end of the pregame talk. When I
said, “OK, let’s go” I ripped off my sweatshirt, and they went crazy when they
saw the Hawaiian shirt, and I reminded them that I bought my clippers.
Well, we
won the game, against a legitimately good team, and the enthusiasm was
fantastic. My coaches and I sat in the
middle of the bench instead of on the end as usual. My friend and Princeton teammate Kevin “Moon”
Mullin came to the game not having seen our team play before and mentioned how
great and supportive the bench was. We
still made many of the same mistakes and almost gave the game away again, but
it felt like a step forward. Personally,
I stayed calm and positive, and yes, after the game, they shaved my head. I needed a haircut anyway.
A new
dawn? On our way to the Promised
Land? Well, maybe, but not so fast. The next day, we played again, blew a lead in
the last four minutes and lost in overtime.
I stayed mostly cool and positive, but many of the old habits from our
guys showed up. Missed layups and free
throws, lack of hustle, the bench was just ok compared to the previous night. Personally, I didn’t go crazy, but laid out
honestly what needs to change, and probably most important for me, I have been
able to keep my own spirits reasonably high, and have not let my disappointment
bleed over into the rest of my life (yet)!
Like
George, going against my instincts has been somewhat helpful. I think it will be of help to me personally
and might help our team improve.
However, when George switched from tuna to chicken salad, he did not
ultimately get the girl! I can’t say
whether or not he failed because he didn’t stick with the chicken salad, but I
am committed to incorporating some of this Happy Horseshit into my coaching and
into my life.
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