Looking on the Wisdom of Wooden at 86

A memory flickers in an old man’s mind.

This was in the 1930s, in South Bend, Ind. He was a high school English teacher then who also coached basketball. On the team was a boy who worked very hard, but didn’t play much. Back then, there were high standards for the awarding of athletic letters. One day, the boy’s father marched into the teacher’s homeroom and asked whether his son would earn his letter.

“He better,” the father threatened, “or I’ll have your job.”

This left the young man in a quandary. The boy had not automatically earned his letter, but the coach had some latitude in the matter. He could have recommended him for a letter--and probably the boy deserved it.

But in the end, John Wooden didn’t. Sixty years later, he regrets that decision. It wasn’t fair, he says, to have punished the boy for the actions of his father.

John Wooden, of course, would go on to become “the Wizard of Westwood,” a living legend and other hyperbolic descriptions he doesn’t care for. Wooden, an 86-year-old Encino resident, prefers to be remembered as a teacher and a coach. He guided UCLA to 10 national titles in the ‘60s and ‘70s and along the way achieved a singular mystique.

He was known as a gentleman even in that gentler era when sportsmanship was prized above showmanship, decades before all the trash-talking, ref-shoving and hair-dyeing of today. But it’s worth remembering that, even in Wooden’s day, an oft-quoted creed of coaching went, “Winning isn’t everything. It’s the only thing.”

That wasn’t Wooden’s way. “I don’t think you’ll ever find a player at UCLA who heard me talk about winning,” the coach said the other day. More important, he said, was “making the most of what you have. . . . I never mentioned winning as such. I didn’t want that to be the objective.”

I’d been hoping to interview Wooden for some time, to get his thoughts about the State of Sportsmanship in America. (Not good, the coach says.) I also wanted to talk to him because, as a child growing up in Southern California, I had religiously followed the great Wooden teams, staying up late to see tape-delayed telecasts on Channel 5 with a young, excitable Dick Enberg intoning “Oh my!” at every exciting play.

Through all those years and all those great players, Wooden was the constant, sitting there with his rolled-up program, a stern taskmaster who smiled sweetly and spoke softly in interviews. Contrast this with my ninth-grade football coach back at Frances Willard Junior High. He tried to psych us up for the big game against Lathrop by tearing up a chicken fryer in his bare hands while screaming, “This is Lathrop!” (Lathrop won anyway.) Wooden, meanwhile, had built a dynasty while coming across as a Sunday-school teacher. How’d he do it?

I learned about Wooden’s “pyramid of success” back then. He said it started with something his father, a devout Christian, had taught him.

You should never try to be better than somebody else, his father said. Just try to be the best you can be.

Wooden was also impressed by a verse he found as a young teacher. He recited from memory:

At God’s footstool to confess

A poor soul knelt and bowed his head

“I failed,” he cried

The Master said, “Thou didst thy best.

That is success.”

Over the next 14 years, Wooden assembled the building blocks for his pyramid--such virtues as industriousness, enthusiasm, loyalty, cooperation, self-control, initiative, skills, team spirit, balance, poise and confidence. All of this leads to “competitive greatness.”

Perhaps it’s easier for a coach who won so many championships to criticize those obsessed with victory. What’s being forgotten, Wooden says, is that the purpose of sport is sportsmanship itself. Why, he asks, must America assemble professional Dream Teams to clobber the world in the Olympics? Our college stars would certainly be competitive.

It wasn’t surprising to learn that, despite his age, Wooden remains in demand as a motivational speaker. Last week, he traveled to St. Charles, Ill., to appear before 1,100 people convened by Arthur Andersen & Co. Wooden, who was widowed 11 years ago, also keeps busy watching his 10 great-grandchildren grow up. And he’s working on two books--one a collection of verse “just for the family,” the other, more of his philosophical musings.

He said that he is proudest of the fact that the vast majority of his players earned their degrees and went on to success--not just in basketball, but in business, medicine, the law and other fields. Many stay in touch, he says.

But successful people like Wooden also learn from their failings.

Another memory flickered. Back in the ‘30s, the young high school coach had a strict no-smoking rule. One strike and you’re out. Wooden caught his star player and promptly kicked him off the team. At the time, the young coach was convinced he was doing the right thing.

But because the boy couldn’t play basketball, he dropped out of school. Looking back, Wooden believes that, had he been a little flexible, the boy not only would have stayed in school, but he’d have received a college scholarship.

That was one of the experiences that taught the young coach that you shouldn’t treat everybody the same when, in fact, everybody’s different.

If you strive too hard to be impartial, the teacher explained, you’re bound to be unfair.

Scott Harris’ column appears Tuesdays, Thursdays and Sundays. Readers may write to Harris at the Times Valley Edition, 20000 Prairie St., Chatsworth, CA 91311. Please include a phone number.