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Among the benefits of last week's trip to Los Angeles for David and Dana Pump's annual retreat was attending Friday's coaching clinic at the Hilton Universal City and observing some of the biggest names in the business talking hoops on subjects ranging from the pros and cons of denying the wing to the advantages of studying large amounts of film.
It was fascinating stuff, an opportunity to peek into the minds of people like Bob Huggins (West Virginia), Kelvin Sampson (Indiana), Billy Gillispie (Kentucky), Chris Lowery (Southern Illinois), Jamie Dixon (Pittsburgh), Mark Fox (Nevada) and Bill Self (Kansas).
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| Billy Gillispie says his plan can help team chemistry. (Getty Images) |
Think of it as special teams.
Toward the end of his session, Gillispie talked about how in his early years as a head coach at UTEP he really only played seven players because he believed he only had seven good players. But what he realized going forward was that regardless of how much the talent level increased on his roster -- first at UTEP and then at Texas A&M -- his instincts were still to play no more than seven or eight guys.
"So the problem wasn't the players," he said. "The problem was me."
Gillispie noted that if you're only playing seven guys, nearly half your roster isn't playing. Over time that group becomes disenchanted and ceases to feel like a part of the team.
His solution: Create special teams for basketball, things like a team that specializes in blocking out during crucial free throw situations or a team that specializes in defending inbounds plays under its own goal with less than eight seconds on the shot clock -- the idea being a group of players that might otherwise have no chance to get on the court will suddenly take pride in a particular aspect of the game the same way a fourth-string tailback takes pride in covering kickoffs or a third-string quarterback takes pride in holding for field goals.
"You just make up reasons for people to be a part of the team," Gillispie said. "I think it helps team chemistry."
I think he's probably right.
More than anything, Gillispie's idea reinforced the theory that coaching at the collegiate level is just as much about managing personalities and massaging egos as it is about understanding how to attack a matchup zone.
Too often teams are torn apart not by star players, but by the guys at the end of a bench who feel they deserve more than what they're getting, feel there's no light at the end of their eligibility tunnel because waiting all the way until their sophomore season to be a major contributor just isn't acceptable for a consensus Top 100 prospect.
That's when heads start to hang, grades start to slip and curfews start to get broken. And before a coach knows it, he's holding a press conference to explain why a four-minute-per-game player was arrested last night because boredom and a lack of purpose sometimes breeds such problems.
Could Gillispie's theory eliminate those instances?
Not totally, because some players will do stupid things no matter what they have to lose (see: Nelson, Tyrone). But if the approach makes one reserve feel more like a part of the team and in turn makes him a good teammate, then it's an approach worth implementing, something worth trying.
