Winter Still Loves Coaching

Glance around Tex Winter’s office, and it doesn’t look much different than any other assistant coach’s. Pictures of players covering the walls, sports books crammed into shelves, a few autographed basketballs atop the file cabinets.

Look a little closer, though, and it’s not really an office at all. More like a time capsule of American basketball.

Pictures of his college teams from the days when shorts were short and the closest thing to a tattoo was an ink smudge. A black-and-white poster of Michael Jordan. Basketballs commemorating the Chicago Bulls’ championship teams.

And look, on the far wall, who’s that group of guys trying not to look uncomfortable? Is that really Bob Knight in the bad plaid jacket? John Thompson without glasses and towel? How about Dean Smith before the gray hair? And Jud Heathcote with hair?

In 52 years as a pro and college coach, Winter has been there, done that and written the book. (Really. “The Triple-Post Offense” in 1962.)

“I still look forward to coming to work,” he says simply when asked why, at 77, he’s still coaching. “Practices, particularly, I like.”

Sometimes the Bulls players aren’t too sure about that. Winter created the triple-post, or triangle, offense Chicago had so much success with during its championship run, and he’s a little protective of it. He expects perfection, nothing less, but with so many new players and so little practice, it’s taking these Bulls a little time to get it right.

When there’s a mistake, a pained look crosses his face and he’ll shake his head. And if someone commits the cardinal sin of going off on his own, look out. No player--not even Jordan--is bigger than the offense.

“Tex has his good days and his bad days,” Brent Barry said, laughing. “That’s to be expected. He’s seen his offense run to perfection in the last eight seasons with Michael and Scottie and those guys, and he’s got a new group on his hands. So this year is frustrating for him, and we’re turning his gray hairs to white.”

But Winter has a little secret: He loves this. The explaining, the demonstrating, the yelling, the wondering if they’re ever going to get it right.

“That’s my job. To teach and to coach,” said Winter, who will receive the National Association of Basketball Coaches’ Golden Anniversary Award this weekend.

Winter began his coaching career straight out of the University of Southern California, becoming an assistant at Kansas State in 1947. When he moved to Marquette in 1952 at the ripe old age of 28, he was the youngest coach at the major-college level.

Two seasons later, he went back to Kansas State as head coach. K-State didn’t draw the All-Americans like Kansas, but in Winter’s 15 years the Wildcats won eight Big Eight championships. He smiles as he remembers going into Allen Fieldhouse in Phog Allen’s last season and beating Kansas. Then there was the 1957-58 squad that beat Wilt Chamberlain and the Jayhawks for the Big Eight title.

“I kiddingly joke I ran Chamberlain out of the league,” Winter said with a grin. “Because after we won the championship, he went with the Globetrotters.”

There were stops at Washington, Northwestern and Cal State-Long Beach. He was coach of the San Diego Rockets when they moved to Houston. He retired twice, only to be coaxed back onto the practice floor to teach his beloved triangle offense.

“I’m such a purist as far as basketball is concerned--teaching the fundamental skills and having a sound, basic offense from which to operate--that I’m inclined to think it’s not really win or lose, but how you play the game,” he said. “That’s my philosophy, really.”

It’s the purist in him that brought Winter back this season. While the Bulls’ championship stretch is probably the highlight of his career, he felt he’d taught Phil Jackson and Co. everything he could.

But when Tim Floyd arrived, he saw another opportunity to teach.

“That’s one of the reasons I returned, because I am interested in leaving a legacy,” Winter said.

Floyd, long an admirer of the triangle, spent the summer picking Winter’s brain. When the lockout finally ended, he let Winter run practice when they were installing the offense, while he sat back and watched.

Even now, almost two months into the season, Floyd doesn’t waste any opportunity to learn. The two huddle on the team bus, chat as they’re walking off the floor and talk triangle while practice goes on around them.

“I knew when he stepped away from the game, all those teaching points in regards to his offense would be gone,” Floyd said. “He’s one of the reasons I wanted to come, and I’m not understating that. I felt like the experience of being around him, at the very least, would make me a better coach.”

And someday, Floyd will pass on the lessons to someone else.

“When I do retire and am out of basketball, my legacy will be carried on indefinitely because these guys will no doubt hand it down to other people,” Winter said. “And I think it’s good for basketball. I think it’s the way the game should be played.”

Despite his success and the impact he’s had on basketball and the people who play and coach it, Winter has yet to make it to the Hall of Fame. He’s been nominated several times. And last year, he received the John Bunn award, considered the most prestigious award from the hall apart from induction.

While those who’ve played for him and worked with him have rallied long and hard for his induction, Winter said he doesn’t worry about it.

“I’d be less than honest if I didn’t say it’s something I hope does happen. Not for me so much but for my family, friends, a lot of coaches who’ve supported me,” he said. “If longevity is any mark of success, I would say I’ve been relatively successful.”

How long will he coach? Who knows. He hasn’t thought about next season yet, and won’t until this one is done.

“It’s been my life for all these years, and I’m not so sure how I would feel being removed from it all,” he said. “It might be the worst thing that could happen to me.”