Wooden Holds Court for Last Time : Legendary Coach Bows Out Without Fanfare After Grant High Youth Camp

Their eyes were big and bright and unblinking as they huddled together, more than 70 youngsters aged 7 to 17, all intent on seeing every movement and hearing every word from the old man. They wore the newest and boldest basketball shoes, high-tops of every color and style. And shorts and shirts that cried out for even a splash of black or white. Packed together, they looked like they had been caught in a terrible explosion at a paint factory.

Before them, the old man spoke in a strong voice. His low-cut, white canvas sneakers were easily the cheapest and simplest in the crowd. And his less-than-swift movements told of his arthritic knees. He was older than most of the youths’ grandparents. But they watched and listened with the intensity they normally reserve for the announcement of the grand opening of a video arcade.

John Wooden had captured another audience.

But sadly, it might have been his last.

The legendary coach who directed UCLA to 10 NCAA championships from 1964 to 1975, perhaps the most famous of basketball coaches, presided over what he said would be his final basketball camp Friday. For more than an hour inside the Grant High gymnasium in Van Nuys, he explained and demonstrated to a group of youngsters how the game of basketball is played.

And when it was over, Wooden said it was, definitely, over.

“There will be no more camps, no more instruction from me,” he said. “I’m 78 years old now. My knees don’t handle this very well anymore. I can get through an afternoon, but at night I am in misery. I hope I’ve passed something along to some of the younger coaches. It’s time for them to carry on.”

Wooden has been actively involved in basketball camps for 17 years and in coaching for 50. He has preached his philosophy of hard work, discipline and fundamental basketball to thousands of youngsters, many of whom are not easily impressed by the accomplishments of aging men, accomplishments that date back long before most of them were born.

They listen today because Wooden still captivates them.

“These kids aren’t paying such close attention because he’s John Wooden,” said Craig Impelman, a UCLA player during the Wooden era who is now married to the ex-coach’s granddaughter, Christy. “These kids are paying attention because he’s such a great teacher right now, in August of 1988.”

Conversations with some of the happy campers seemed to prove Impelman’s assertion. Most could not pinpoint the years John Wooden coached at UCLA, but they seemed to think he brought the school to the top of the college basketball world sometime between the discovery of fire and the Nixon Administration.

“I’ve never met anyone like Coach Wooden,” said Mitchell Goodman, 10, of Beverly Hills. “He was so good. He showed me so many new things on the court. But I guess he got famous at UCLA, a long time ago. About 20 years, I think.”

Danny Kashper, 10, of North Hollywood, was born three years after Wooden retired from UCLA. He said he wasn’t exactly sure when Wooden’s teams ruled the collegiate basketball world but indicated that he believed Abraham Lincoln might have played for him.

“I guess Coach Wooden wasn’t at UCLA a long, long, long, long time ago,” Kashper said. “But I think it was a long, long, long time ago.”

Not all, however, would concede that Wooden’s rise to power occurred all that far back.

“It wasn’t that long ago,” said Mike Risner, 16, of Canoga Park. “When he was still coaching at UCLA, I was already 4.”

Perhaps this exchange among three of the school’s youngest campers best summed up the generation gap Wooden must bridge. The topic was former UCLA players:

First boy: “I think Kareem Abdul-Jabbar played for Coach Wooden once.”

Second boy: “I know he did. And his name then was Lew.”

Third boy: “His name was Lew Jabbar?”

The void, Wooden said, will be filled with writing. He has two books under way, a basketball instructional book and a book of poetry intended not for publication, only for his family. And much of his time will be taken by his seven grandchildren and two great-grandchildren, one of whom tagged along with Wooden on Friday, his tiny sneakers squeaking on the polished court along with the size 9 1/2s of his famous great-grandpa.

“Little Johnny will replace all of this for me,” Wooden said, holding the 2-year-old son of his grand-daughter and Impelman. “I don’t need much more than him and the rest of my family. But I know I’ll miss this, the daily association with kids eager to learn about the game. The older kids aren’t as much fun to work with as they used to be, but the younger kids, the kids who don’t ask ‘Why?’ but just ask, ‘How?’, I’ll miss them. I’ll miss their total devotion to learning how to play this game.”

As he was supervising the drills Friday, Wooden noticed one young boy standing perfectly still as his camp-mates stretched and exercised themselves into a frenzy. Wooden approached and the boy smiled broadly.

“Excuse me young man, but you’re not doing anything,” Wooden said, softly.

“Ah, excuse me Coach Wooden. I thought I was,” the boy responded.

“That’s why I loved this so much,” Wooden said later. “That boy had just drifted off somewhere and didn’t even realize it. But his heart was in it.”

A half-hour later, all of the campers put their hearts into it. The session had ended. Wooden had led his last group of youngsters through a high-spirited dribbling drill, and he quietly said goodby to them and walked to the bleachers to unlace his shoes.

Two boys in the middle of the pack began clapping. In a second all hands were pounding, at first in rhythm and then in a wild, unrestrained wave. It lasted for nearly 30 seconds and Wooden, his arthritic knees beginning to ache from the workout, gazed out over the court. He smiled.

“I guess I didn’t know until now how much I’m going to miss this,” he said.