“COACH!”
Eighty pounds of underdeveloped muscle and string-bean bones shrieked up at me, quivering in mid-pushup like a soul hovering in limbo.
Slowly, and with dictatorial grace, I glided over to the form and placed my foot on the small of his back (and boy, was it small).
“How many free-throws did you miss, Leibowitz?” I demanded.
“Th-th-three-ee, Coach, but one of “˜em was halfway down and bounced out!”
I yawned.
“Did we get half a point for that shot, Leibowitz?”
“N-no, Coach.”
“Fifty more! Move those arms in! Straighten that back! And for God’s sake, stop crying, you’re fogging up your glasses.”
I am a championship-winning coach, and as such I feel like I have the authority to advise some of our struggling programs on the best ways to solve the abundant miscues, lapses in physical concentration, and overall mediocre play that has plagued them in recent months and hindered them from achieving the expected top-level success.
Many of my summers have been spent cultivating a style of coaching conducive to championship performance, a style to rival John Wooden’s Pyramid of Success and Phil Jackson’s Zen higgledy-piggledy.
After the men’s and women’s basketball teams spent this weekend turning the ball over an inordinate number of times in losses to USC, it’s time that coaches Ben Howland and Nikki Caldwell implement my always-successful “Robitussin Plan.” There’s nothing my 10-year-old hoopsters despise more than the taste of good health; for the best results, replace the Gatorade with Robitussin until the team learns to stop coughing the ball up.
“You call that execution?! I’ll show YOU execution! No more post-game Slurpees!”
Some of the defense I’ve witnessed on campus this year has been holier than Tim Tebow. At some point, one has to acknowledge that some players just aren’t good defensively, but this coach believes that teams can make up for that with an over-the-top conditioning regimen I like to call “Run Your Eshoff.”
“That’s the third time you’ve needed a bathroom break during this drill, Cornelius. You and your 10-year-old bladder have 17 seconds to be back here or you’re pushing your mom’s minivan all the way home barefoot.”
It’s disconcerting to see UCLA’s teams come out and play with a lack of intensity, particularly against important opponents.
Even I can forgive an off shooting night, but the emotion with which a squad comes out of the locker room can be dictated.
The pre-game speech is an ideal time to implement the “First-Quarter Flip-Flop.” For every point scored, every turnover forced, and every loose ball secured in the first period of play, the kiddos get one minute of practice time in which they get to tell Coach Ryan what to do.
There’s something awe-inspiring about watching your 4-foot-6-inch center dive into the snack shack to save a loose ball, even when you know his motivation is a desire to make Coach do jumping-jacks while singing “Row, Row, Row Your Boat.”
Howland, Caldwell et al, is that really too much to ask?
Then there’s the free-throw shooting. I can’t fathom how teams can shoot so poorly from the charity stripe: where are my mid-practice games of Knockout? Where are my incentives for making free-throws, or more importantly, the consequences for making them? If I’m not satisfied with the performance from the charity stripe, I’ll hold “Halloween” ““ a practice honoring all those who give away freebies. It is quite scary … be warned, Bruins.
“Jenkins, for every free-throw you miss this season, I will personally sign you up for an extra hour of piano lessons.”
It is my unyielding belief that problem-solving techniques can work at any level of the athletic spectrum.
Install the above plans, UCLA, and witness the results: crisper play, fewer mistakes, more intensity out of the gate.
And if not even a single one of these plans can save our seasons:
“Pushup position, boys and girls. Which one of you little punks stole my whistle?”
If your self-esteem is reliant on 10-year-olds running the triangle offense well, e-mail Eshoff at reshoff@media.ucla.edu.