It’s very seldom that we, the general public, are able to fraternize with our “idols.” And when I say “idols,” I mean the people we see on TV.
Let’s be honest. Today’s society is notorious for idolizing those unworthy of praise: gangster rappers, disgraceful athletes and reality-TV superstars.
Don’t get me wrong, I’m guilty of this too. I’ve been known to look up to those small figures on the TV, having no clue what they stand for as people ““ if they stand for anything at all.
But thanks to my father, I’ve realized my mistakes. I’ve realized that we have true icons walking in our presence, one of which you can catch at Pauley Pavilion on any Saturday afternoon in the fall.
I’m talking about John Wooden. And seeing as how today is his birthday, I felt this the perfect opportunity to pay tribute to not only John Wooden the coach, but John Wooden the man ““ the man whose name is synonymous with winning, synonymous with success, and above all else, synonymous with respect.
Allow me to explain.
Although I’ve never crossed paths with the renowned National Collegiate Basketball Hall of Fame coach, he has had an effect in my life by having an effect on my father’s life.
It was the summer of 1974 ““ don’t I sound like an old grandfather telling a story? ““ and my old man, Tang Watson, was a regular at the Pauley Pavilion gym playing pick-up ball. Also among those regulars were UCLA men’s basketball greats Marques Johnson, Sidney Wicks, Curtis Rowe, Richard Washington and David Greenwood, as well as a guy by the name of Pat Riley, with the occasional Gail Goodrich appearance.
Needless to say, the competition was stiff.
But according to my dad, and the many others who witnessed him play, he wasn’t too bad himself. At the time, my dad played for El Camino College and in those days, when universities had freshman teams, some junior colleges were allowed to play against those university freshman teams.
Let’s just say that when El Camino played UCLA, despite the Bruins winning the game, Tang Watson strutted his stuff, garnering the attention of local newspapers, as well as college coaches.
But he only wanted to play for one coach.
John Wooden.
So my father made it a point to contact Wooden. Back then it was a lot easier to just get someone’s phone number and call that person. It wasn’t like today where you have to jump through five hoops just to have a chat with someone.
Once he was able to speak to the esteemed coach, who had at that point already won nine NCAA Championships, including seven in a row, he asked Wooden how he could go about getting a tryout.
Coach Wooden responded that he had seen my father play and that he thought he was a good player. But at that time, the team was set and my father’s style of play would not necessarily fit in with that of the UCLA team.
My father said thank you to Coach Wooden, and that was it.
But to this day, my father tells the story of the admiration he gained for Coach Wooden on that day.
Here was this coach who had ascended to the peak of the sports world, having won nine NCAA Championships in the previous 11 years, and had the best college basketball players in the world dying to play at his school.
And he was not only taking his own calls, but was explaining himself to the people on the other end of the line.
My father claims that this is the day John Wooden became his hero. The way Coach Wooden let him down gently, the respect he showed Tang Watson, this junior college kid who dreamed of playing for UCLA, was a testament to the coach’s greatness off the court.
My father’s basketball career ended in peace, the greatest coach in the world having shown him the proper respect on that day.
In retrospect, Tang Watson knows that although he was a talented player, UCLA would certainly be fine without him.
So decades later, when he once again crossed paths with the almighty coach at a luncheon held by the Aquatic Foundation of Metropolitan Los Angeles, he made sure to express his gratitude.
Of course Coach Wooden did not remember the good deed he had performed years earlier, probably because he didn’t even consider it to be a good deed. But my old man thanked the coach for his honesty, respect and kindness.
My father then sat down with his idol and talked basketball, an experience he later recalled as one of the crowning moments in his life.
Happy 99th, Coach Wooden.
If you have your own Coach Wooden anecdote, e-mail watson at bwatson@media.ucla.edu.