Driesell May Have the Time of His Life at James Madison

Lefty Driesell waves his hand and an entire wall falls down. He moves whole rooms with a gesture, raises or lowers the ceiling at will, rearranges his very own gym in chunks of beam and rafter until it is completed and roaring with his presence. This imaginary constructing of his new domain at James Madison University must be very hard work, because when a waitress asks him after lunch what he would like for dessert he replies, “Aw, just bring me another chili dog.”

At the not-quite-subdued age of 56, Charles G. Driesell is beginning a second life in college-basketball coaching, and he has enough vivid memories of his first one to know he is going to need more seats in the JMU Convocation Center to hold his considerable person. Not to mention his office, which is also going to be considerably enlarged judging by the sweep of the odd, eloquent hands that have long been his chief manner of expression, whether in pleasure, displeasure or outright menace.

Currently they express either his plans for expansion or contentment, folded across his chest. This is a calmer, more composed Driesell than the one known in College Park, Md., one who shows his humor more easily and who is enjoying for the first time in many controversial years what it is to be genuinely welcomed. He’s got a country-club membership and a plot of land. Maybe he’ll build on the wooded lot, or perhaps he’ll move to a gabled old country house on the hill. “Maybe I’ll get a farm,” he said. “With some cows.”

But be forewarned that within this country gentleman in repose still lurks a recalcitrant heart, and the drive to rifle through a coatroom if he thought it contained some talent. The legendary loudmouth victor of 524 games with just one losing season in 31 years is a gigantic addition to a quiet little conference called the Colonial Athletic Association. He will bring to it something of his 17 seasons as coach at Maryland, plus the last two less-than-happy ones as an assistant athletic director there.

For two years Driesell had no record at all, forced to resign as coach following the cocaine-related death of star player Len Bias and subsequent stories about academic deficiencies among Maryland athletes. In that time Driesell stored up a will to coach that he is about to unleash on a young team that was 10-18 last season, and he states unequivocally that he will not lose next season, the first in a five-year contract. “It’s not going to happen,” he said.

Uh-oh. He’s back:

“I’m wanted, and I’m appreciated, and I’m coaching. I’ve been a coach for 31 years.”

Driesell already has found his people, the ones who will turn up next winter in face paint and full voice. Every afternoon Driesell walks up the hill, collects a plate of sloppy Joe and jello, and is either invited to a table of students or simply invites himself. Few coaches have divided basketball fans to the extent Driesell has, or been so eager to engage them in either conversation or debate. But at James Madison, they are still in the first flush of affection for him.

“Every year you stay at a place, five or six more people get mad at you,” Driesell said. “I was at Maryland 17 years, so right there you figure I had at least 50 people mad at me. Here, there aren’t too many people mad at me right now.”

It is immediately evident that Driesell has galvanized the basketball community in Harrisonburg. His hiring coincided with the annual athletic fund-raising drive, and with the promise of ticket priority attached to donations, James Madison’s income has soared. Athletic Director Dean Ehlers set a goal of $450,000, which no one thought they would reach. But since Driesell’s hiring they already have collected $617,000, and expect they will pass $700,000.

Season tickets have become a desirable, and Ehlers believes they will sell out by the end of the summer. Previously in the position of begging for media coverage, JMU finds television offers coming in unsolicited.

That sort of windfall is bound to carry over to the rest of the conference, which has enjoyed only intermittent attention, first with the presence of all-America center David Robinson at the Naval Academy, then with Richmond’s romantic underdog journey to round of 16 in this year’s NCAA tournament.

“People like to see (Driesell) stomp his foot and hitch his pants up from the back,” Richmond Coach Dick Tarrant said. “It’s going to add TV, it’s going to add attendance, it’s going to add a lot.”

James Madison’s president, Ronald Carrier, was not necessarily seeking a national-championship contender when he began his search for a replacement to John Thurston. But the first time Carrier met with the top candidate, Driesell asked him, “Do you want to be in the top 20?”

“I kind of caught my breath,” Carrier said. “Then I thought for a minute and I said, ‘Well, it beats 10-18.’ ”

Even so, Driesell was not necessarily the unanimous choice to take over at James Madison, an erudite state school that has been called a “public ivy.” The Maryland situation made him, in some eyes, an unsuitable candidate, judging by scattered letters and complaints from nervous faculty and students. “We were aware that if it materialized there would be critics,” Ehlers said.

But Carrier finally decided to view the Maryland events as, if anything, an aberration. The potential negatives were outweighed by his overall career, his name recognition, and never a hint of trouble with the NCAA. “In public life there is a tendency to judge someone on their last go-round, instead of their long-term record,” Carrier said. “We tried not to do that.”

The reaction was overwhelmingly favorable. Driesell’s hiring was followed by the signings of a pair of top-rated transfers in Steve Hood of Maryland and Fess Irvin of Louisiana State, who will sit out a season and be eligible as juniors. That seems to promise a winning season in the near future, and Driesell would eventually like to expand the 7,600-seat Convocation Center to hold 10,500. It already was nicknamed The Electric Zoo without Driesell, and with him it could prove one of the most loyal gyms in the country.

“The community has been absolutely set on its ear,” Ehlers said. “So far, I guess we guessed right.”

That Driesell can still evoke such reaction is indication of the strength of his personality. In his waning at Maryland, Driesell was regarded by those who didn’t know better as some kind of curious starveling, hidden in a corner office of Cole Field House as an assistant athletic director in charge of something vague, mainly lunch. Not a few of his friends wondered what Driesell would do without coaching, and so did his wife, Joyce. “You know, you really wondered how he’d react,” she said.

In truth, however, Driesell was not brooding. Rather, he was golfing, socializing, and doing television commentary on ACC games. The latter kept him close to basketball without the aggravation of coaching, and also gave him a trade at which he was an immediate, visible success.

“To tell you the truth, I didn’t miss coaching or recruiting or the limelight or any of it,” he said. “I’m not a guy who sits and sulks. If I quit again tomorrow I’d do the same thing.”

Family and friends saw a distinct change. Driesell always had been a frenetic sort, even in the offseason, overwrought over a recruit, pulling at his chin and waggling his ears. But free of the high tensions of Atlantic Coast Conference competition his natural amiability emerged.

“Staying close to the game the way he did was a great way to step forward,” Duke Coach Mike Krzyzewski said. “I think he handled it real well, and won a lot of people over. They saw what we had always seen of him behind the scenes, at meetings or dinner, as a friend. He didn’t have to yell all the time that he could coach. They saw the humor in him.”

No one enjoyed the new Driesell more than Joyce Driesell, who had long lobbied for a husband who was not quite so driven. “I think the last year helped him tremendously,” she said. “I think for the first time he learned how to relax. I don’t think he knew how to, or if he did he had forgotten, or felt guilty whenever he tried to.”

So when Joyce Driesell learned Lefty was considering a return to coaching, she was immediately opposed. “I was against it,” she said, “because I had enjoyed having him around, frankly.”

Joyce Driesell was not alone in cautioning him. Among those who called to either advise against it or express doubt were most of his friends in coaching. “They told me I was out of my head,” Driesell said. “They might be right.”

In most cases, like those of Krzyzewski and Virginia’s Terry Holland, they wanted to make sure his heart would be in the business. Also, they were loath to see him return to a stressful arena after enjoying his newfound popularity.

“I hated to see him give up that side of it,” Holland said. “ ... But he wanted to coach. That was obvious.”

In theory, Driesell had little reason to consider another job. Before he resigned, he negotiated a deal by which Maryland paid him his $85,000 yearly salary, plus an additional $50,000 a year for four years from guaranteed television money. But there was lingering resentment, and his discomfort at staying in Cole Field House was as obvious as Maryland’s discomfort at having him there.

“It was taking a toll on him,” Holland said. “He was an outsider. To me it was not a healthy long-term situation.”

When JMU invited him down, Driesell walked the perfectly manicured old gray stone campus, and watched Carrier stop to pick up even the smallest piece of litter. Driesell looked at the fully stocked, modern weight and training rooms, and a team screening room straight out of Hollywood. JMU vaguely reminded him of a more advanced Davidson, the school where he started his college career and created an NCAA tournament regular with a small group of intelligent players. Many Driesell observers have felt he did some of his best and most satisfying work there and in his earliest years at Maryland. “There’s something to be said for that,” he said.

Also, there was no underestimating the effect on Driesell of being valued again. A petition urging his hiring was circulated. Students hung signs from windows saying, “We Want Lefty.”

“It was nice to be wanted,” he said. “That had a lot to do with it. I had a job at Maryland making a lot of money, but with not a lot of responsibility. Actually, I was making more money than when I was coaching. Financially, it may not have been the wisest thing to take this job. But, although I had a contract at Maryland, I didn’t feel wanted.

“And I wanted to coach. I wasn’t ready to quit when I quit. I wasn’t burned out or tired. I wasn’t unhappy, but I wasn’t contributing much to society. Here, at least I’ll be earning my pay.”

The Driesell who coaches James Madison may differ slightly from the Driesell of Maryland. His two-season sabbatical provided a new balance of perspective, as well as some new coaching ideas. His family is an obvious, affectionate presence in a way they weren’t in Cole Field House. Joyce stops by for lunch frequently, daughter Pam lives nearer by in Roanoke, and last week he hired his 25-year-old son Chuck as a full-time assistant.

The elder and younger Driesell have said they would like to work together ever since Chuck, a guard seldom used at Maryland because his father didn’t want to invite charges of favoritism, decided he wanted to coach. They were not altogether comfortable as player and father at Maryland, but when Chuck ended three years coaching the Naval Prep Academy this spring and began sending his resume to colleges across the country, Driesell instantly said he would hire him if he ever took a new job.

“I hope it doesn’t ruin a beautiful friendship,” Joyce said.

“Well, it could,” Lefty said.

When Driesell’s contract ends when he will be 61 and a probable Hall of Fame candidate. Or he may go on for 10 more years. “Red Auerbach says when you get tired of putting on your sneakers you’ll know,” he said.

How content Driesell remains at James Madison also will depend on how he responds to his first season back in coaching, with a young team. The Dukes’ only proven scorer returning is forward Kennard Winchester, who averaged 13.6 points. Since Driesell hasn’t experienced a losing season since his first year at Davidson, and insists even that one could have been avoided, he is not likely to tolerate another one easily.

“I’m sure he’s not used to losing,” Winchester said. “We’ll have a packed house every night just because he’s coach, but whether or not they stay depends on how we play.”

Driesell replied, “We ain’t lost one yet.”