Moms, scholars, Dr. Phil-types and test experts everywhere all agree: Go with your first instinct.
I know I did.
I fell in love with the heat and passion of sports before I was 10 and my first recollection was indeed the fondest - watching UCLA men’s basketball on KTLA Channel 5 tape delay in Los Angeles.
John Wooden on the set of a Gatorade ad.
Photo courtesy of Susan Goldman/Gatorade
I’d stay up past midnight on Saturdays to catch a Lew Alcindor sky hook, a Lynn Shackleford rainbow from the corner, an off-center free throw by Henry Bibby, a high-flying Sidney Wicks putback, a Bill Walton rejection or an unorthodox Keith Wilkes jumper.
The years meshed as did always the teams themselves. The passing was crisp. The dribbles were few. The bank shots, and lopsided victories, were many.
It was basketball at its finest and reported appropriately enough by one of the very best broadcasters – even back then – a young up-and-comer named Dick Enberg.
It was basketball and teamwork and winning “oh my.”
And, of course, it was all orchestrated by the Wizard himself.
There is no more iconic or important sports figures in my lifetime than John Wooden so when the good folks – sorry Bryant Gumbel - at Gatorade gave me the opportunity this morning to speak with legendary man – and coach – I was a bit overwhelmed.
A Gatorade ad featuring Wooden debuts tonight during the NCAA Tournament final between North Carolina and Michigan State.
After fumbling through an introduction where I tried to articulate my childhood affection for UCLA basketball, the ageless 98-year-old paused for a second and chuckled.
“I’m glad you enjoyed (those days),” he said. “I did too.”
I asked him about a former classmate of mine at Santa Barbara High, then Keith, now Jamal Wilkes. The two still have breakfast occasionally.
“He’s just a wonderful person,” is all he needed to say. Coming from Wooden, that said it all.
I asked him about the artistic 60-second black-and-white spot, one overseen by Spike Lee.
In the ad, Wooden sits stoically in a studio reciting a poem entitled “The Little Chap Who Follows Me!” while a montage of former college and NBA greats Walton, Dwayne Wade, Candace Parker, Kevin Durant and Michael Jordan cuts in an out.
The poem, whose author is unknown, is about fatherhood and Wooden reads it like he’s done so hundreds of times. See the ad.
Turns out he has. Not during takes when the spot was filmed in December, but during speaking engagements over the years. The poem indeed has special meaning to his heart, which fits the man.
He wouldn’t endorse anything that doesn't speak to his own soul. That, after all, is the first of his seven-point creeds toward living.
Be true to yourself.
“I got that poem in nineteen hundred and 36 when my son was born,” he said. “I had it framed and I had it on a wall and I’ve seen it every day I’ve been home since 1936. That’s quite a while.”
So you didn’t have any trouble reading it during the shoot?
“I don’t think I did such a good job after watching (the final cut) today,” he said. “I read right through it.”
And what did he think of the final version?
“I liked it,” he said. “It’s different but I like it. It made me think a little.”
Wooden is greeted by Spike Lee while filming poetic Gatorade ad.
Photo courtesy of Susan Goldman/Gatorade
Even though he’s lived in La-La land since leaving Indiana State in 1948 – that’s 61 years ago – the Hollywood scene isn’t Wooden's world. Coaching, faith and relationships were and forever will be his focus and expertise.
He’s the most successful coach in tournament history with 10 national titles in 10 championship games and a 664-162 overall record. He was the first to be inducted into the Basketball Hall of Fame as both a player and a coach.
Asked to breakdown tonight’s game and it was if he was auditioning for Clark Kellogg’s job.
“Before the tournament started I picked North Carolina to win it and they’ve done what I expected,” he said. “They’ve won every tournament game by double digits. I think North Carolina has great balance, good shooting and Roy Williams’ teams are always fundamentally sound.
“Michigan State is strong physically, has great team play both offensively and defensively and they have outstanding depth.
“It’s two different styles, but I think it should be an outstanding game.”
The winner?
He's not changing his original pick. North Carolina all the way.
Wooden said he’ll watch the game from home, like the zillion other folks expected to catch it on CBS.
He still, health permitting, attends every home UCLA game, and the ones he doesn’t he catches on television. Same for Purdue games.
Asked how current college teams would fare against some of his UCLA squads, Wooden, much like his teams, shoots straight.
“I think some of my better teams would have done quite well against the better teams of today,” he said. “There’s no doubt today players have gotten better. The individual athletic ability of today’s players is amazing.
“But as the players have become better individually I think teamwork has gone the other way. I think it’s kind of natural if you think about it. The players are so good individually I think coaches tend to let them go on their own.
"But it’s a wonderful game. People still like to come out and see it.”
Like the 70,000 or so expected to fill Ford Field tonight.
Asked about the high school game that I cover day-to-day and he just marvels.
“Each year they seem better (athletically) than they were the year before,” he said.
Time was running short, so, to the man who has accomplished so much, shared so many life credos and lived such a rich life, I asked him the one question that certainly all have pondered:
“Have you ever played a video game in your life?”
To that he chuckled, but gave a surprising response.
“Of course I have,” he said which caught me off guard.
Envisioning Wooden with a Nintendo stick is sort of like seeing Hemingway on a laptop. ... bouncing to an IPOD.
Luckily, for me anyway, Wooden clarified.
"...but from the point of actually making an effort to play one. …no.”
And to that he restored my faith in poetry, healthy living and first impressions.
