A Personal Chat With John Wooden
April 9, 2009

For some reason many of the heroes for boys of my generation were named "John." John Kennedy, John Glenn, John Wayne and John Lennon for instance. (John the Baptist and his cousin Jesus were added to my "hero" list later in life.)

In Southern California, we also had John Wooden.

As the men's basketball coach at UCLA from the late 1940's into the 1970's, the "Wizard of Westwood" guided his Bruin teams to ten NCAA championships, including seven straight. Recognized by ESPN as the Greatest Coach of the 20th Century in any sport at any level, Coach Wooden's legacy reaches far beyond March Madness and even the sports world.

In the mid 1980's, I found myself sitting next to Coach Wooden as he prepared to give the keynote address at a business person's luncheon that I had helped organize. Famous people usually don't get me too rattled, living legends do though, and here I was literally rubbing elbows while eating delicious hotel chicken with "Coach." (I'm kidding about the "delicious" part, not the nervous part though.)

With total sincerity, Wooden looked out at the hundreds of people waiting for his speech and whispered to me "I can't believe anyone would still be interested in hearing me after being retired all these years."

Putting me slightly more at ease with his humble remark, I figured I could make some "hoops" small-talk with the Coach and began to tell him how disappointed I was in my son's fourth grade basketball team, which had won something like two out of eleven games so far that season.

Coach Wooden stopped eating, put his fork down, dabbed his napkin to his mouth, sat up very straight then turned to face me. This previously gentle, grandfatherly old man now peered over the top of his glasses at me.

I'd seen this face before.during sports highlights on TV going toe-to-toe with an official during a game or grabbing one his players by the collar for some "correction."

'THAT'S NOT WHAT IT'S ABOUT."

He didn't raise his voice, but his tone let me knew how serious he was. I made sure my collar was tight against my neck.

For a brief moment, I knew what it felt like to be Bill Walton. The biggest difference between Walton and me, other than roughly a foot and a half, red hair and my not understanding how anyone could actually like The Grateful Dead, is that he was "schooled" by Coach Wooden while in pursuit of NCAA championships and me while I was chasing a chicken breast across the plate with my fork. Other than that, we're very similar.

The coach continued, "It's not about winning. It's about knowing at the end of the day, when you lay your head down on your pillow, that you know you did the best that you're capable of doing. That you gave it all you had, win or lose."

I took a sip, maybe a gulp, of water. My mouth had suddenly become very dry while my palms had gotten very sweaty.

"Coach, with all those national championships, you never talked about winning?" I had to ask him.

The old man's expression and posture softened a bit as he shrugged his shoulders with a sly smile.

"Oh, we often "implied" about winning, but that's not why they won. They did it by mastering the basics, with teamwork, with discipline, with hard practice and hard work."

The Wizard of Westwood hadn't yet spoken to the crowded ballroom, but he had already made a big impact on me.

I was about to get another "lesson" from the coach. From my seat on the dais next to the podium, I had a unique, up-close perspective of the elderly speaker while he stood and waited for the applause to die down after being introduced.

His hands trembled slightly as he reached inside his coat for hand-written, tattered index cards to use during his speech. After placing the cards down, he reached into the side pocket of his blazer and pulled out something small and shiny.

During his thirty-minute speech, the old man thought of as the greatest coach of all-time, constantly held tight to the small metal cross in his hand. As he nervously rubbed it between his fingers, I could see where the edges had been worn down to a dull and smooth finish over the years.

For comfort and strength, Coach Wooden turned to his Savior, Jesus Christ.

During the March Madness coverage, the networks always include a featured segment or two on Coach Wooden, now 98 years old. They'll talk about his winning record, the UCLA dynasty, his players and all the national championships. What they probably won't mention though is what Coach Wooden taught me that day, what it truly is "all about."

"I always tried to make clear that basketball is not the ultimate. It is of small importance in comparison to the total life we live. There is only one kind of life that truly wins, and that is the one that places faith in the hands of the Savior. Until that is done, we are on an aimless course that runs in circles and goes nowhere." --John Wooden

This article is from guest columnist, Mike Wright.