Coaching Youth Basketball – Part 4: The First Game

This is Part Four of a continuing series about some of the nuances of Coaching Youth Basketball. As I continue to reminisce it becomes clearer that basketball would take on an increasingly minor role in the entire experience while the interactions with people and the impact on young lives would take on greater importance. Parts One through Three covered the events leading up to the first game of the first season; Part Four takes us through that first game; I still have some “memorabilia” which helped in describing some of the details. 

GETTING ORGANIZED

The night before the first game, I mapped out my player rotations based on the “two complete quarters” rule. I didn’t own a computer, so on a sheet of paper I drew up a grid with the players’ names in the columns and quarters one through four in the rows, then indicated which players would be active each quarter with an “X”. The rotation wasn’t difficult with only seven players, but executing it would be contingent upon full attendance and staying out of foul trouble. There was also the temptation to give the inexperienced players less playing time for the sake of winning, but that would defeat the purpose of doing this kind of work.

There would eventually be some tough decisions to make weighing player development versus winning, but not on the first day.

OPENING SATURDAY ARRIVES…FINALLY

After a difficult Friday night sleeping in anticipation of coaching my first ever organized youth basketball game, Opening Saturday finally arrived and the schedule had us turning on the lights and raising the curtain, playing the very first game of the season. It was a 9:00AM matchup against the Nets, a team I knew nothing about. I was too amped to feel groggy despite the early starting time, and I had to somehow conceal my anxiety from the players and their parents. Playing the first game, there were no hints of what to expect. There would be games at the recreation center all day long and into the evening with about ten games covering three age groups. The 8-and-under kids played on Friday evenings and had opened their season the night before at a different location.

ARE THESE GENERAL ADMISSION SEATS?

I arrived at the gymnasium and was shocked to see a line of about eight people formed outside the entrance. Inside the glass door were a couple of folks sitting behind a table upon which a metal box rested. Perhaps it was mentioned during a brief nap at the coaches’ meeting, but these folks were charging admission at the door. Not a tightwad or anything (admission was only a dollar) but a couple of strange, fleeting thoughts entered my head. After buying Gatorade for a couple of the practices, purchasing coaching guides, a whistle and the Korney Board, was I now required to pay admission to the games, too?

Man, this volunteer coaching thing is getting expensive.

As I got to the table and reached for my wallet, I heard the voice of the league director, “You don’t have to  pay, coach.”

After a brief inner conflict, I decided to pay, anyway. It was pretty clear that every dollar would help the organization somehow, and I just got into the habit of coughing up a couple of bucks every Saturday. But you know how the mind works, and my evil conscience felt compelled to weigh in:

Great job, you numbskull. You’ve just paid to watch the team you’re coaching. For free.

Behind the table set up to collect admissions, there was a concession stand with some of the most basketball-unfriendly foods you could imagine. The usual fare: hotdogs, candy and soda.  So I had to make sure none of my kids indulged in any of that stuff until after the game.

WHERE ARE MY PLAYERS?

The stands were composed of about eight-to-ten rows of wooden benches on one side of the gym but covering the length of the slightly less than regulation-sized court’s sideline. I’d arrived about 30 minutes early, and didn’t see anyone I recognized other than the director. I didn’t get nervous until about 8:45 when there were still no players from my team in the gym, and it then dawned on me (one of many mistakes I’d end up making) that I hadn’t instructed anyone to arrive early. We would definitely need time to stretch, warm up and briefly go over what we’d practiced, and I wasn’t sure if the league organizers were sticklers for promptness.

Fortunately, they weren’t. And the referees hadn’t arrived yet, either.

Finally, the players and their families began to arrive and the stands began to fill up. Apparently, there were a couple of parents who were also caught off-guard at having to pay an admission and were complaining about it. Meanwhile, the players were instructed to stretch before doing anything else, then we’d do our layup drill. The director came to the scorer’s table and turned on the electronic clock and scoreboard, which was located on the far end of the wall closest to the entrance and adjacent to one of the baskets. He set the clock for fifteen minutes, which gave us time to warm up a bit. I was relieved. As it turned out, the referees were running late.

Finally the referees arrived and with about two minutes left on the warmup clock, one of them–a tall, angry-looking guy who would probably have rather been sleeping–came over and asked me to meet him at center court with the team captain for some last-minute instructions. I hadn’t named one, so I had my first-rounder come over with me. I shook hands with the two referees and the Nets’ coach (who looked as if he’d gotten less sleep than I did) and captain, and we went over some basic ground rules and determined which basket we’d shoot at in the first half. Six-minute quarters, five personal fouls equals disqualification, no full-court press allowed, respect the officials, and so on.

The buzzer sounded and the pulse rate intensified. Game time.

THE FIRST GAME OF THE FIRST SEASON

I nervously waked over to the designated bench area which was right in front of the stands and talked to my players. All seven of my players showed up, and in anticipation of negative reactions from the two kids who would not be starting on this day, I told the team that everyone would get chances to start and finish games on the court and on the bench. Then I announced my five starters and drew up their assignments on the Korney Board, which was rapidly becoming my best friend. We would play man-to-man defense for most of the game, and I wasn’t too concerned about the offense yet.

The ref blew his whistle and my five starters, decked out in their blue jerseys with white lettering walked onto the court and positioned themselves for the jump ball. The slightly taller Nets came out in their Kelly Green jerseys with black lettering and numbers. Suddenly the gym erupted with noise as parents and relatives from both teams began their impromptu chants of support. It became evident right away that yelling out instructions would be fruitless.

After about three trips up and down the court, one of my biggest concerns had become real. The kids, perhaps overcome with adrenaline, had forgotten just about everything we’d gone over in our four practice sessions. I actually thought it was kind of funny, and one of the parents leaned over and basically and the same thing in my ear (yeah, they were that close). The Nets had this one kid who was cat-quick, and he’d scored two layups and hit a couple of free throws, and before we knew it we were down 6-0. I called one of my six allotted timeouts.

THE FIRST TIMEOUT/COACHING ADJUSTMENT

For some reason I wasn’t nervous any more, but my kids’ parents had suddenly gotten quiet, and I could feel them shooting imaginary daggers my way while the other side of the gym was in party mode, celebrating the Nets’ quick start. This was the first timeout, and it better be good. I told the kids to take some deep breaths and made one minor matchup adjustment that turned out to be major. While resisting the temptation to go to a zone defense, I ended up taking my first-rounder off the Nets’ scorer and gave my second-rounder the assignment of guarding him.

Even with that move, I had to be careful not to give my first-rounder the impression he was being demoted. In this case, he’d already picked up an early foul so I had a built-in excuse for making the  switch. I actually think he was relieved at not having to chase this speedster around all day. Otherwise, I just wanted the kids to settle down a bit. The game had already played out as expected with the 10-and-under age group: very sloppy with lots of bad passes and traveling calls, end-to-end action and limited half-court sets.

TAKING CONTROL

The young Bullets went back onto the court and went on a remarkable run, mostly from converting forced turnovers into easy baskets. My second-rounder had the Nets’ top scorer on lockdown, and that kid didn’t score for the remainder of the quarter. Meanwhile, my first-rounder, free from the responsibility of defending a kid much quicker, got his offensive game going and was either scoring on layups and floaters or finding teammates for open shots. My second-rounder also scored on a couple of layups off steals and we scored about the next 15 points.

Suddenly, the Bullets’ end of the gymnasium was bringing all the noise. My third and seventh-rounders came in for the second quarter after starting the game on the bench. My third-rounder could probably hold his own with the first-rounder had they played one-on-one, but he was determined to do his own thing, which was shooting three-pointers without thinking twice. And it would get worse if he managed to make one.

REFEREE ABUSE

The Bullets extended their lead a bit in the second quarter and they were beginning to look more comfortable. The parents were making lots of noise in support. They were also yelling at the referees after every call that went against us. I saw the tall, angry ref glare in our direction a few times and figured a confrontation was coming.

I was right.

After one of those borderline charging/blocking calls went against us, a couple of parents started cursing at the referees, with one had already come up with a creative, but derogatory nickname for one of them (it was Mr. Magoo, actually). The angry ref stomps over towards our bench:

“Coach, if you don’t get some control over your parents, I’m calling a technical foul on YOU!”

I sat there stunned for a second, as suddenly all eyes in the gymnasium were on me. I was OK with asking a referee to explain a call, but I was not one to get into verbal scuffles with them unless they were just being ridiculous, which wasn’t the case here. So I bit my tongue, and without much time to do it, I had to figure out a way to tell these folks to calm down. What I believe really saved me on this day was the fact that we were winning the game, and we were pulling away. Before I could turn around and ask the parents to inhale/exhale, one of them shouted, “Don’t worry, coach. We won’t cost you this game.” They were relatively calm for the rest of the morning, but were still all over these referees.

I was relieved–we had a cool but rowdy bunch–and I still believe things would have gone south with them had we been losing by fifteen points and I had to quiet them down.

CRUISING HOME

It was halftime, and with our late start we were spilling over into the start time of the next game, so the participants of the next game had started to arrived and the stands were packed. My team is resting and drinking Gatorade during the 10-minute halftime break while I’m talking to some of the parents and in storms Bullhorn, whose team, the Hawks, is playing the next game. He walks towards me, then looks up at the scoreboard which displayed 24 to 9.

“Hey, that’s you with 24?”

“Yep.”

“Damn!!”

Before we got into a quick warmup for the second half, I went over some basic concepts we’d practiced but reminded the kids to have fun and reinforced the “smooth forehead” rule.. Then I pulled my third-rounder–who had launched some crazy off-balance shots with defenders draped all over him–aside and urged him to calm down. I’d played him in the second quarter and planned to play him in the third and have him on the bench in the fourth quarter going forward until he started listening. I immediately harkened back to our coaches’ meeting, where some were expressing frustration with the substitution rule. I now understood why. Given free substitutions, this kid wouldn’t have seen the court in the second half, but my hands were tied.

My second-rounder was on the bench for the third quarter, so I put my sixth-rounder against the Nets’ best player on the defensive end, and was pleasantly surprised. I even managed to come out of my shell to yell out encouragement to this kid while he was defending, and he seemed to embrace the responsibility. Everyone loves to score, but he was bashful on offense and didn’t seem to want the ball. I’m glad he enjoyed the defensive end and we tried to make him feel like his contributions on that end were valuable, too.

We had trouble scoring in the third quarter, but so did the Nets. The game grew uglier but we didn’t mind because we still had the lead. My third-rounder was as wild as ever, with the exception of a beautiful drive to the basket resulting in a layup and a foul. The Nets did not score in the third quarter, but I think some of their kids had already clocked out mentally, and their coach was screaming at them. He was also making frequent substitutions until the director put a stop to it. I was then informed that were the Nets to win the game, I could file a protest and it would have been upheld, causing a forfeit. The Nets’ coach either didn’t understand the substitution rule, or he did and just decided to violate it, figuring he was going to lose, anyway.

At the end of the 3rd quarter, we led 30 to 9.

Meanwhile, Bullhorn brought his Hawks team from the recreation center’s corridor back into the gym and they were decked out in loud red uniforms (which was fitting on several fronts). They walked down to our end of the court and watched the fourth quarter from the corner baseline area. I truly believe Bullhorn was taking notes. We’d meet in Game Four and there’d probably be plenty of trash-talking before then. In fact, some of his players were already talking trash to us. But the Bullhorn himself was surprisingly quiet. I thought he’d start yelling out instructions to the Nets’ players.

For the fourth quarter, neither team’s top player was on the court. My second-rounder was there but he wasn’t really looking to score. I was trying to get some of the inexperienced players a chance to score. I believe everyone on the team scored a basket except for the sixth-rounder, but his defense was every bit as valuable. The seventh-rounder scored on a free throw and the parents erupted, as did his teammates.

THE BEST MOMENT

The Nets’ only points in the fourth quarter were scored by one of the last kids selected in the draft. He probably took about four or five steps before taking a shot about a 10-feet from the basket, but the referees–either having sympathy for this kid or just wanting the game to be over– let it go and the ball went cleanly through the hoop. This touched off a wild celebration by this kid; he was grinning from ear-to-ear, flailing his arms and high-stepping all the way to the other end of the court. He’d obviously never played before and accomplished something he probably never thought he’d do and the score was of little consequence, which REALLY got me thinking. Everyone in the gym laughed and applauded in what was probably the best moment of the day.

So THAAAT’s why we do this…

IN THE BOOKS

We ended up winning the game by a score of 35 to 11. I felt more relieved that the game was over than I felt satisfied by the final score, and I’d amassed enough coaching material to get me through at least 10 practices. But the kids had fun, the parents enjoyed themselves and because it’s customary, I suppose, they all came over and gave me a congratulatory handshake. The kids and I then lined up and shook hands with the Nets coach and players. I walked back towards our bench and Bullhorn was there waiting for me and gave a handshake, too.

The parents wanted to go out and celebrate with the kids, but I couldn’t enjoy the victory for more than a few minutes as I was obligated to help out at the scorer’s table for the next game (featuring Bullhorn’s squad), so we all agreed to meet up two hours later at a place called Showbiz Pizza (now known as Chuck E. Cheese’s).

I’m not gonna lie, it felt good to win. I also knew, however, that we’d actually won this game on draft day. We simply had the deeper roster and were the superior team athletically. Once we put the clamps on the Nets’ top player, their only other option on the offensive end was a kid who could make threes but had trouble running and changing ends. But as I’d find out before heading home that evening, the games would get tougher.

A lot tougher.

NEXT: The Regular Season – Lessons Learned.