Okla-homey
3/22/2006, 08:00 PM
and FWIW, if the TU girlios had made it to the dance in San Antone and had played OU, I'd have cheered for the Sooners.:D
interesting perspective for the New York Times
When a Midmajor Is as Good as It Gets
By SELENA ROBERTS
Published: March 22, 2006
THE NEW YORK TIMES: THE Ozark foothills roll beneath a surprising oasis of culture and art deco design in a green patch of Oklahoma where the mayor promises 227 days of sunshine will pour over a city often saluted as one of "America's Most Livable Communities."
And yet, Tulsa hasn't been a hitching post for college basketball whizzes as
much as a convenience store where coaches stop in with the engine running,
grab what they need, then speed away.
Nothing has turned lovable midmajor programs into tumbleweed towns like the
N.C.A.A. tournament, the most breathless job fair this side of midterm
elections. From 1994 to 2003, the University of Tulsa was a regular bracket
darling, but it lost four coaches to the elite: Tubby Smith, Bill Self, Buzz
Peterson and Steve Robinson.
Instability led to collapse. Tulsa has finished below .500 for three
consecutive seasons. It's enough to drive an athletic director into
euphemism. Instead of labeling Tulsa as a steppingstone program, Bubba
Cunningham prefers to call it "a cradle for coaches."
"It's more flattering," Cunningham said in a recent interview.
How can anyone predict a flight risk? Incoming hires talk about putting down
roots, extol their landing pad's family values, then purr local knowledge
upon discovering their favorite burger dive.
But, as lords of the tournament upset, they are hailed as whistleblowers
each March Madness for exposing the industry giants as soul-less basketball
factories -- until, of course, these same coaches sign lucrative deals to
become factory executives.
Who's next to be wooed by the headhunters of corporate basketball? Maybe
Bradley's Jim Les or Wichita State's Mark Turgeon or George Mason's Jim
Larranaga. Maybe Gonzaga's Mark Few will finally heed the siren song of,
say, Indiana.
Dan Monson understands the attraction. He was an original architect behind
Gonzaga's journey from skinny pushover to Charles Atlas before Minnesota
offered him a fortune to reclaim the greatness of a Gophers program mired in
an academic fraud scandal.
"I could have prided myself on saying, 'I'll stay at Gonzaga forever and
never chase the money,' " Monson said in a recent telephone interview.
"Then, I got recruited in. I've never looked back, but it has been difficult
at times."
In seven seasons, with five lost to probation, Monson has righted the
Gophers' image but has struggled to be the turnaround artist of Minnesota's
dreams.
So what's the lesson? Don't do it; that's what midmajor coaches are
discovering with each cautionary tale. If Tulsa is a bellwether, only 25
percent of those who make the leap will find their magic potions travel.
Of the four coaches who dumped Tulsa, only Smith parlayed his upward
mobility into a raging success ( with a national title at Kentucky ) even
though his tired eyes reveal the constant pressure he is under.
Misery is commonplace among the ex-Tulsa club. The joy has been squeezed out of Self while competing with Roy Williams's ghost at Kansas. And Peterson
became frayed overnight after Tennessee seduced him after his one season at Tulsa.
"I try not to look back, but Tulsa was a great place to be," Peterson said.
At Tennessee, he was asked to be more pitchman than basketball coach. It was exhausting. And it didn't last. He was fired last year, and is now coaching
in a 1,000-seat gym at Coastal Carolina, with a reported $140,000 salary.
"I call it coaching with freedom," Peterson said.
Peterson's gutsy team of no-names nearly made the N.C.A.A. bracket, but lost the Big South tournament title on a final possession. This is how the life
cycle works in the college hoops version of Six Degrees of John Travolta
(who holds the record for career highs and lows): Tennessee's Bruce Pearl,
last year's midmajor wonder, was bounced from March Madness by Turgeon at
Wichita State; Les Bradley's crew took out Self; and Larranaga's George
Mason underdogs stunned North Carolina, where Robinson, of ex-Tulsa fame, is an assistant after his brief run at Florida State ended in his firing.
This year's kings of ascension could be next year's victims of an upset.
This doesn't have to be inevitable. There are reasons for hope. First,
midmajors are not paying in charm anymore, but in nice money, as Few can
attest with his $600,000 salary, sprawling manse and use of a private plane
for recruiting.
More important, coaches must see the national trend: fundamental players are kicking the fancy pants of big-time ballers in basketball death by a
thousand backdoor cuts.
Some argue that the rise of the midmajor will be unsustainable, particularly
once the new rule kicks in forcing N.B.A.-bound high school seniors to stop
over for a year of college.
But where are plug-in superstars winning? Pick any American Dream Team (
baseball, basketball, hockey or even the Olympic ski team ) and witness the
irrelevance of highlight poseurs.
Fly-by supernovas offer no guarantees. It may just be that a hardwood guru
has a better chance to assemble a winning team at a cozy gym over a
basketball factory.
At times, coaches flee the small time not because of the money but because
of fear, a sensation that they've captured lightning in a bottle and must
capitalize before it escapes.
Where a coach's confidence meets his commitment, you'll find a hoops genius
who dares to make a midmajor town his permanent hitching post.
interesting perspective for the New York Times
When a Midmajor Is as Good as It Gets
By SELENA ROBERTS
Published: March 22, 2006
THE NEW YORK TIMES: THE Ozark foothills roll beneath a surprising oasis of culture and art deco design in a green patch of Oklahoma where the mayor promises 227 days of sunshine will pour over a city often saluted as one of "America's Most Livable Communities."
And yet, Tulsa hasn't been a hitching post for college basketball whizzes as
much as a convenience store where coaches stop in with the engine running,
grab what they need, then speed away.
Nothing has turned lovable midmajor programs into tumbleweed towns like the
N.C.A.A. tournament, the most breathless job fair this side of midterm
elections. From 1994 to 2003, the University of Tulsa was a regular bracket
darling, but it lost four coaches to the elite: Tubby Smith, Bill Self, Buzz
Peterson and Steve Robinson.
Instability led to collapse. Tulsa has finished below .500 for three
consecutive seasons. It's enough to drive an athletic director into
euphemism. Instead of labeling Tulsa as a steppingstone program, Bubba
Cunningham prefers to call it "a cradle for coaches."
"It's more flattering," Cunningham said in a recent interview.
How can anyone predict a flight risk? Incoming hires talk about putting down
roots, extol their landing pad's family values, then purr local knowledge
upon discovering their favorite burger dive.
But, as lords of the tournament upset, they are hailed as whistleblowers
each March Madness for exposing the industry giants as soul-less basketball
factories -- until, of course, these same coaches sign lucrative deals to
become factory executives.
Who's next to be wooed by the headhunters of corporate basketball? Maybe
Bradley's Jim Les or Wichita State's Mark Turgeon or George Mason's Jim
Larranaga. Maybe Gonzaga's Mark Few will finally heed the siren song of,
say, Indiana.
Dan Monson understands the attraction. He was an original architect behind
Gonzaga's journey from skinny pushover to Charles Atlas before Minnesota
offered him a fortune to reclaim the greatness of a Gophers program mired in
an academic fraud scandal.
"I could have prided myself on saying, 'I'll stay at Gonzaga forever and
never chase the money,' " Monson said in a recent telephone interview.
"Then, I got recruited in. I've never looked back, but it has been difficult
at times."
In seven seasons, with five lost to probation, Monson has righted the
Gophers' image but has struggled to be the turnaround artist of Minnesota's
dreams.
So what's the lesson? Don't do it; that's what midmajor coaches are
discovering with each cautionary tale. If Tulsa is a bellwether, only 25
percent of those who make the leap will find their magic potions travel.
Of the four coaches who dumped Tulsa, only Smith parlayed his upward
mobility into a raging success ( with a national title at Kentucky ) even
though his tired eyes reveal the constant pressure he is under.
Misery is commonplace among the ex-Tulsa club. The joy has been squeezed out of Self while competing with Roy Williams's ghost at Kansas. And Peterson
became frayed overnight after Tennessee seduced him after his one season at Tulsa.
"I try not to look back, but Tulsa was a great place to be," Peterson said.
At Tennessee, he was asked to be more pitchman than basketball coach. It was exhausting. And it didn't last. He was fired last year, and is now coaching
in a 1,000-seat gym at Coastal Carolina, with a reported $140,000 salary.
"I call it coaching with freedom," Peterson said.
Peterson's gutsy team of no-names nearly made the N.C.A.A. bracket, but lost the Big South tournament title on a final possession. This is how the life
cycle works in the college hoops version of Six Degrees of John Travolta
(who holds the record for career highs and lows): Tennessee's Bruce Pearl,
last year's midmajor wonder, was bounced from March Madness by Turgeon at
Wichita State; Les Bradley's crew took out Self; and Larranaga's George
Mason underdogs stunned North Carolina, where Robinson, of ex-Tulsa fame, is an assistant after his brief run at Florida State ended in his firing.
This year's kings of ascension could be next year's victims of an upset.
This doesn't have to be inevitable. There are reasons for hope. First,
midmajors are not paying in charm anymore, but in nice money, as Few can
attest with his $600,000 salary, sprawling manse and use of a private plane
for recruiting.
More important, coaches must see the national trend: fundamental players are kicking the fancy pants of big-time ballers in basketball death by a
thousand backdoor cuts.
Some argue that the rise of the midmajor will be unsustainable, particularly
once the new rule kicks in forcing N.B.A.-bound high school seniors to stop
over for a year of college.
But where are plug-in superstars winning? Pick any American Dream Team (
baseball, basketball, hockey or even the Olympic ski team ) and witness the
irrelevance of highlight poseurs.
Fly-by supernovas offer no guarantees. It may just be that a hardwood guru
has a better chance to assemble a winning team at a cozy gym over a
basketball factory.
At times, coaches flee the small time not because of the money but because
of fear, a sensation that they've captured lightning in a bottle and must
capitalize before it escapes.
Where a coach's confidence meets his commitment, you'll find a hoops genius
who dares to make a midmajor town his permanent hitching post.