Harrick-bashers don’t realize off-court work

Harrick-bashers don’t realize off-court work

To the Editor:

Halftime, April 1, 1995. UCLA 37, Oklahoma State 37.

I’m leaving my seat on the third level of the Kingdome to
relieve my nerves yet again in the Kingdome bathroom, when I am
stopped by an all too familiar conversation. We’ve all heard it.
Heck, most of us ­ including myself ­ have even taken
part in it. This time it is a father and daughter sitting in the
third deck of perhaps the worst make-shift basketball arena ever
invented. But it could have been anyone, anywhere at one time or
another. The conversation consisted of three words ­ "Jim
Harrick stinks."

Here we were, 20 minutes away from the Bruins’ first appearance
in a championship game in 15 years, yet students and alumni alike
still were not satisfied. I started to ask them to justify their
comments. They gave me some kind of garbage like "How could he
possibly substitute Tyus and Ed at the same time mid-way through
the first half?" (How about because Tyus just nearly broke his
wrist and even the Player of the Year gets tired sometimes!) I
started to respond, but, for once in my life, did a wise thing. I
turned back and continued my journey to the bathroom, to
symbolically piss-off all of those Harrick-bashers that had been
pissed-off by Harrick’s coaching for the past seven years.

I must admit, I too have been a Harrick-basher. It was only
three short years ago when I watched in disgust as UCLA was
dismantled by Indiana in the West Regional title game. Wasn’t this
the same Indiana team we had blown out in the first game of the
season? "You want to be paid like Bobby Knight, Coach Harrick, then
learn how to coach like Bobby Knight!" Or how about Tulsa. "Tulsa?
Our players can’t even find that place on the map. How could you
possibly be embarrassed by a team like that?" Even this year, after
the technical foul at Oregon (and I still do wish you’d calm down a
bit on the sidelines Jim, Lorenzo Romar and Mark Gottfried may not
always be there to tackle you) I was about ready to bring out the
crucifix.

But, as an aspiring coach myself, what my peers and I have
failed to realize is that we see only a glimpse. We watch for 40
minutes a game, 33 times a season, as our team steps into the
spotlight. And we claim to be experts. Without seeing the 21 hours
of practice a week, the sleepless nights spent studying game film,
the months of conditioning, the miles and miles run around the
track or the thousands of pounds lifted in the weight room, we
think we know more than the coach does.

We don’t bother to examine the monotonous repetitions, going
through the same drill until achieving perfection. What about all
the hours spent on defensive slides and offensive sets so that we
can play half-court basketball when we need to (see Oklahoma St.
game). We fail to notice any of this. Instead, we criticize the
losses.

Any coach will tell you that a game is not won or lost on the
court. A coach is helpless once the ball is tossed in the air on
game day. The coach can’t make the big jumper or grab the rebound.
All he has is the brief opportunity to make a few suggestions
during timeouts and make a few corrections at halftime, all of this
with the bands playing fight songs and thousands of fans screaming
and yelling.

Nope, you don’t win championships on the court, you win them in
practice. The UCLA Bruins didn’t win the NCAA Championship because
they were able to withstand Arkansas’ 40 minutes of hell. Rather,
the Razorbacks, with all of their depth, were unable to withstand
Coach Harrick’s and the Bruins’ 365 days of hell!

While I don’t want to distract from the incredible excitement I
felt in winning our 11th championship banner in men’s basketball, I
can’t help but wonder what would have happened if things had turned
out a bit differently. What if Tyus’ layup against Missouri didn’t
fall? What if the clock had shown only 3.6 seconds remaining
instead of 4.8 seconds? (Oops, I forgot, Tyus travelled 69 feet,
threw up a 25-footer and posed for the cameras as the ball fell
through the hoop … but you can ask UConn about that).

What if Jim Harrick’s decision to go to a zone with two minutes
remaining and UCLA leading Oklahoma State by three had backfired?
What if, in deciding to deny Big Country Reeves the ball inside by
going to the zone, Randy Rutherford had drained a trey from the
corner? What if the outstretched arms of Charles O’Bannon and
George Zidek were not long enough to detour Rutherford’s shot? In
forcing OSU to beat UCLA from the outside, Harrick made a great
decision. But he also stuck his neck out for all of the
Harrick-bashers to chop off one more time. If things had worked out
differently, would we be second-guessing Harrick unfairly
again?

As a student and a devoted Bruin basketball fan for my entire
life, I’d like to publicly apologize to Coach Harrick, his staff
and especially his wife, Sally, for all of the criticism that
students and alumni have given Jim Harrick over the last seven
years. I know you found it in your heart to forgive Bill Walton,
Jim, and I hope you’ll find it in your heart to forgive all of us
as well. Coach Wooden always stresses to be cautious of both
unwarranted criticism and undue praise. While our criticism may
have been unwarranted, our praise is long overdue.

The true know-nothing of the 1995 basketball season is not Dick
Vitale (although he is a very close second). Rather, it is all of
us who have criticized Coach Harrick over the last seven seasons.
I’m so glad the monkey’s off your back, Jimmy. But Coach K and
Coach Wooden were right, it never should have been there in the
first place.

Doug Diamant

Senior

Communication studies