GEORGE RAVELING : USC Coach Can Recruit and Tell Jokes, Knows What Schools Are All About; the Jury Is Still Out on His Coaching

Let’s try to sort through this guy, see if we can make some sense of him. Because, guaranteed, you haven’t seen his like in these parts, and probably never will again.

The file so far: Subscribes to 150 newspapers, five comedy services, the latter because “Every circus needs a clown.” . . . Hands out reading lists eclectic enough to suggest a personality split about nine ways--everything from Leo Buscaglia to John Naisbitt to William Least Heat Moon. . . . Listens to motivational tapes. . . . Would like to take a cooking class, maybe ride the Orient Express or go on a safari--soon. . . . Keeps folders on interesting cities, stuffs them with restaurant reviews, and such. . . . Once walked up to Martin Luther King Jr. after a speech and asked for the text. Got it, too. . . . Wrote a popular newspaper column for a while. . . . Grew up over a grocery store in D.C., corner of Jersey and Florida, but didn’t know it was a ghetto until he took a sociological course in college. “And then I was depressed.” . . . Thought he’d be an airplane pilot when he grew up. . . .

Coaches USC basketball.

This last activity, no more eccentric than the others when you come to think of it, has put him somewhat in the news lately, although not so much as he is accustomed to, having been toastmaster supreme/basketball coach in such entertainment-basketball capitals as Pullman, Wash., and Iowa City, Iowa.

“In Iowa,” he says, by way of example, “this ‘four freshmen’ thing would be bigger than Libya. They’d have a lottery. This is about right.”

Nevertheless, he is a man in the news, taking over USC’s last-place basketball team, suddenly in turmoil, and taking on a responsibility to establish it at a top-20 level of excellence and gain some attention along the way. Soon and forever.

He’s the man to do it, the frustrated and anxious and oft-teased boosters all agree. Here’s a guy who can recruit, can win and make Morning Briefing’s Quotebook six days a week.

He did it everywhere else, didn’t he? In 11 years at remote Washington State--Raveling on Pullman: “It’s not the end of the world, but you can see it from there”--he had two 20-victory-plus seasons and two 19-win years. He won 55% of his games with players who evidently preferred their vistas dominated by wheat fields. And the way his quips kept getting picked up, you’d have thought he was doing Friars Club roasts on the side.

He won at Iowa, too, though that’s not thought to be as big a trick. Still, twice in his three years there he won 20 or more. He coached teams in the big tournament his third and fourth times while at Iowa.

He also was entertaining enough that his televised coach’s show caused the Cosby ratings alongside it to dip. Sorry, Dr. Huxtable, but this is entertainment .

So what’s he going to do at USC, with immediate access to some of the top prep players in the country and access to lots of media, as well?

He’ll win big! Oh, he’s just the man, a booster confides, to finally divert both victory and attention the Trojans’ way.

“I wonder what the guy out West is thinking right now,” chortled a booster at a confab to meet the coach, enjoying the presumed misery of a basketball coach who is never, in conversations among USC boosters, mentioned by name or exactly located, but who is believed to be the despised rival, Walt Hazzard at UCLA.

Said another booster, nearly aquiver with anticipation, “He’ll be a black John McKay,” when, really, he had no idea at all what he was into with this Raveling fellow. But it could be a great ride, a genuine E ticket, while we all find out.

First of all, you’re not going to tag this guy so easily when even Raveling seems unsure of what he’s about. Coach or educator? Big winner or molder of men? Gagster or philosopher? All of above?

“Basketball is just my vocation, not my life,” he says, explaining his many needs off the court.

Yet, two people who plainly idolize the man find at least this one fault, that he is obsessed with his job. Their only lament is that he seems unable to find time for either himself or those closest to him.

Here’s another, along the same lines:

In a 1977 interview, he said, “I don’t want to be coaching when I’m 50.” In a 1983 interview, he said, “I won’t be coaching when I’m 55, you can bank on it.” In 1986, he shakes his head when you bring it up. He’s 48.

It may all be a small thing and is hardly to suggest he doesn’t have his life together. It at least suggests his is a life in progress.

“There are just two questions,” he often says. “Who am I and what am I capable of becoming.” He evidently doesn’t know the answers to those questions, not even at 48. But he’s working on them, probably harder than most people.

This notion of Raveling as deep thinker may seem to contradict the notion of Raveling as good humor man, the Jokes R Us of college basketball. Certainly, his public persona is a little more accessible than his private persona. In public, anyway, he’s the Bob Hope of hoops, with, it turns out, apparently the same source material:

--Describing a Washington State team: “We run a wishbone offense. We shoot the ball and wish that it would go in. So, I gave my players books to read, which I hope will help, the New Testament.”

--Before taking the Cougars to Anchorage: “When you’re from Pullman, you look forward to going anywhere.”

--On his high school days in Philadelphia: “We just had one coach for football and basketball. He took all of us out and had us run through the forest. The ones who ran into the trees went on the football team.”

--On his neighborhood: “We used to steal things that began with A. Like a television, a radio, a watch.”

But you’ve read or heard this stuff. The point here may be that Raveling takes his humor as seriously as he takes his basketball. He has a collection of 250 humor books in addition to his comedy services and is constantly looking for stories he can tailor to his own use.

Considering that he gives more than 100 speeches and who knows how many interviews a year, you can see that he might require fresh material from time to time.

It’s free publicity, is what it is. And when you’re in, say, Pullman, looking to make a name for yourself, it’s the only kind you can afford. Quick, name his successor at Washington State. See?

“I got a lot of criticism for letting George travel and speak all over the country, but George made Washington State a national institution,” said Sam Jankovich, who was the athletic director at Washington State and now serves the same function at Miami (Fla.). Also, not coincidentally, George Raveling made himself a national figure.

“Once, the L.A. Times compiled a list of the people most used in Morning Briefing,” Raveling says proudly. “I was in the top five.”

Would he rather be in the Morning Briefing’s top five or the AP’s top 20. “AP top 20. I guess,” he says. “Both are an honor, though.”

Just another thing he works at, another thing he wants to win. For a funny guy, it turns out, he sure is serious.

“Actually, I’d rather be in the top 10 with my players,” he says. “Kids that come here and tell you what an influence you are, that’s the thing. When I came here, I had 25 letters from kids I’d had. Those are your real victories.”

Raveling, though he’s coached 14 years now and even written two books about rebounding, tends to talk about students rather than athletes, about building kids instead of basketball programs.

This is a guy who, at his previous stops, had EDUCATOR printed on his office door, and had HAVE FUN lettered over the hoop.

Raveling, sometimes sounding altogether too lofty, thinks you can be coach and educator at the same time and cites such examples as Bob Knight at Indiana and Dean Smith at North Carolina, two fellows who graduate their players rather than exploit them.

“I’m not naive enough to think that the primary reason I came here is not to win,” he says. “But I think Dean Smith has proven you can travel that road and win. I’ll do it here. I’ll work harder to prove I’m right.

“Student-athletes should graduate. It’s incumbent upon us to give them real direction. It’s dangerous how much influence coaches have on them. We can put substance in their lives, or we don’t have to care at all, or we can go about it half-heartedly.”

He thinks he falls into the first category.

There are cynics who wonder whether Raveling isn’t inflating his intentions, isn’t hobnobbing with an ethical elite where he really doesn’t belong.

“ Does he graduate any more than anybody else?” asks one of his critics. In fact, neither school could say for sure that he did. But there are some testimonials to suggest not all his air is hot.

Tom Newell, personnel director for the Indiana Pacers and a Big Ten watcher, is impressed with Raveling’s commitment to players. “I have a questionnaire I send out (to potential players), and one of the questions is, ‘Who is your favorite coach and why?’ ” he said. “Keith Morrison, who played for George, wrote, ‘George Raveling because he taught me more about life than basketball.’ ”

Then there is Mike Dolven, a senior on Raveling’s first team at Washington State in the disastrous 6-20 season of 1972-73.

“I was a senior, a foregone conclusion, so I’m not talking about anything he did for me,” Dolven said. “For those of us he inherited, he dealt with us, tried to put us through the best year possible, even though we didn’t have a good season.

“But he was interested, even then, in kids as human beings, and it was my first experience with anybody worrying over what the kids were doing in class. I thought his personal involvement was extraordinary. He became involved in their home life, especially a couple of people who came from the East and were having a tough time. He made sure they were calling their families, stuff like that.”

Dolven worked with Raveling in one of his summer camps and that experience was even more profound.

“There, I really saw the motivational side of him,” he said. “His speeches on life and what you want to do with life, it really sent them off. His speech, one of the most inspirational--If you can’t be a tree on the mountain, be a shrubby little bush; but be the best shrubby little bush--was important to me. I was able to pull some values from it.

“Up until my junior year, all I thought about was being a pro ball player. But he made me realize there was something out there besides basketball. Life was important, more important than anything else.”

You have to realize that these speeches, even if you call it dime-store philosophy--Leo Buscaglia, who boils life down to some inspirational basics, is his favorite author--can be both simplistic and true. Anyway, not all Raveling knows about life comes from self-help books, comedy services or motivational tapes.

“As a high school junior, I remember sitting on a hill overlooking the freeway,” he says. “I was thinking about life. I thought I’d be a pilot. I didn’t realize there were such things as basketball scholarships. Why, my senior year, I led the state in scoring for about half the season, and people were following me. I was amazed. I didn’t understand the concept. It changed the whole course of my life.

“And it got me to thinking, there have to be thousands of people with untapped potential who never got the chance. Thousands of guys like Raveling who sat on a hill with limited outlooks. And here I am. I’ve traveled, met four presidents. That’s what I mean about instilling substance.”

There is a logical question here: How does this square with a man who allowed three talented freshmen, Tom Lewis, Hank Gathers and Bo Kimble, to ultimatum themselves right out of his program?

These are three of the four freshmen who said they wanted a say in choosing Stan Morrison’s successor. They had a deadline on saying whether they wanted to stay or not and when they didn’t meet it, were coolly relieved of their scholarships.

Well, one thing about Raveling, he likes loyalty. Before events were carried out to their front-page conclusion, Raveling privately beefed, “I haven’t heard the kids say how enthusiastic they are to be at USC.”

Know, however, that loyalty is a two-way street with Raveling. At Washington State, he had a big falling-out with a player named Reedy Burg. Burg came around, though, and Raveling eventually found him a job with Nike.

“What will happen here with George is he’s going to challenge his players,” Newell said. “He’ll make a commitment, but the kids have to realize that George demands and receives. He looks at it like a deposit in a savings account that he can withdraw later.”

But can he coach?

Well, he can win, but that may not be the same thing. He’s always been known foremost as a recruiter, going back to his days as Lefty Driesell’s right-hand man.

Even while at his alma mater, Villanova, in his first job, he was acquiring a reputation as a man it was hard to say no to. But at Maryland, he cemented his reputation, bringing in Len Elmore, Jap Trimble, Tom McMillen, Howard White, Jim O’Brien, Owen Brown and Tom Roy. “Can recruit, can’t coach” has followed him ever since.

“That’s one of the most unjust comments going,” said Jankovich, his former boss at Washington State. “He had to be a great coach to accomplish anything in Pullman. You look at the rosters of WSU and those of UCLA and Arizona State and you ask how many he took away from them and how many they took from him.”

In other words, he was somehow winning games with somewhat lesser material.

Newell said that if he isn’t the greatest technician--nobody in the league is comparing him with Marv Harshman or Lute Olson--he nevertheless is a good coach.

“He stands out, obviously, in the area of motivation,” Newell said. “His players, from 1 to 12, are all good students of the game and come to play. They are intelligent and motivated players.

“At Iowa, by Big Ten standards, I thought he was very competitive. His teams could go into Indiana and beat them. Wouldn’t lay down. A lot of teams get intimidated on the road, but not his.”

Admittedly, Raveling didn’t improve much on Olson’s records at Iowa. But the program hardly faltered, for that matter.

Then there is the criticism that Raveling beats up on weaklings in the early season, usually on his home court.

That is possibly true of his second season at Iowa, say those who followed the club. He had a 21-11 record but only a 10-8 in the conference. Anybody, it is said, can win 20 games, but winning a conference title is another thing.

Raveling says: “One of the first things I learned in coaching is that you never schedule yourself out of a job.”

Finally, if he’s so good, why did he leave Iowa? It can be a tough place, not just to coach but to live, it turns out. They like their basketball there and demand a lot from the program and the men who run it. Some small amount of pressure there. Lute Olson cited “mental health” in his own leaving.

Raveling, who didn’t know a thing about racism until his sophomore season at Villanova when he was thrown out of an elevator at a Wake Forest hotel, has indicated that his being black might have been a problem there.

He won’t talk about it anymore but he did allow a story to get published in the Seattle Post-Intelligencer in March in which he said, “I have to believe race has a lot to do with my problems. What else can they base their dislike on?”

This much he will admit to: “A 6-6 black guy in Iowa City is pretty visible.”

Perhaps it was the glass-house syndrome that got to him, or maybe the Midwest rusticity finally proved too frustrating to a city kid.

To address that first syndrome, there is a story told that Raveling once went out to lunch and when he came back, his secretary asked, “How was your tuna fish sandwich?”

As for the second, Raveling says, “In Iowa City, there was just nowhere to go to unwind if I lost, for example. I love jazz, but I can’t tell you the last time I heard any.”

In any event, his unhappiness proved unbearable. “I was changing in a way I didn’t like,” he says. And USC called.

“It’s going to be fun to get up in the morning and have a variety of choices of life decisions, like where to buy groceries or have my dry cleaning done.” He looks in a folder. “I see there are 35,000 restaurants here. I hope to find eight or nine good ones.”

He sits back and sighs. “I finally had to get away and just be me, to have space and not be on display. There’s another world out there. I hear how great the UCLA bookstore is. I’ll probably go over there. Probably the first USC coach to step into a UCLA bookstore, but I’ll do it. This will be great therapy for me.”

Raveling, in the end, will like Los Angeles, and Los Angeles will like him. A reporter who covered him at Iowa says that’s all he wants, anyway. “He just wants to be liked. And believe me, by and large, you’ll like him.”

Booster, at meet-the-coach confab: “We’ll like him, all right. Far as that goes, I liked the last guy. He just didn’t win, as I recall.”