Okay, flashback: It was late 1988, my first semester as a Duke student. (There, I've dated myself.) I was attending one of my first basketball games in Cameron Indoor Stadium and was standing right behind the Duke bench. Mike Krzyzewski had just removed Christian Laettner from the game, and as Laettner took his seat, Krzyzewski, in response to a mistake the freshman had just made, knelt and delivered a blistering phillipic right in his face. I was taken aback by the intensity and vulgarity of the coach's outburst, and the player appeared to be similarly affected because as soon as Krzyzewski walked away, Laettner buried his face in his hands.
A few seconds later, Laettner--and I--heard that same nasally voice pipe up from the far end of the bench. "Christian, keep your head up!" Krzyzewski said. "Learn from your mistakes!"
Those few seconds gave me my first real glimpse into how Mike Krzyzewski coaches, and though I've watched and written about him many times over the last 13 years (often to his chagrin, I'm sure), I don't know that I can offer up a better example to illustrate why he has been so successful. Put simply, no other college basketball coach of Krzyzewski's generation has proven better at figuring out exactly what each of his players needs at any given moment, whether it's a kick in the rear or a pat on the back.
Most coaches are obsessed with X's and O's. Krzyzewski prefers hearts and minds.
His enshrinement this weekend into the Basketball Hall of Fame in Springfield, Massachusetts, is only the latest testament to his still-growing legacy as a team-builder without peer. Every great team needs discipline and structure, but Krzyzewski understands it's more important for his players to have a sense of freedom--freedom to try new things, to make mistakes, to imagine a full range of possibilities. Every great team thrives on communication, but Krzyzewski understands that, by definition, communication cannot be one way, and so his first step towards becoming a good teacher was learning how to listen. Every great team knows it must maintain focus, but Coach K understands that it's not enough to focus on a goal. You have to focus on the right goal--every time, all the time.
For example, after Duke upset UNLV in the semifinals of the 1991 NCAA tournament, the Duke players were understandably elated. (Anyone remember Bobby Hurley jumping on Clay Buckley's back as they left the floor? Anyone?)
Yet after the final buzzer sounded, Krzyzewski didn't celebrate for even a millisecond. He instead stood on the sidelines wearing an angry look on his face and holding his palms facing the floor, as if to say, "Not yet." He was still focused on his goal--the national championship--and he would not waver until it had been reached. And it was, two nights later in a 72-65 victory against Kansas.
Fast forward one year to the East Regional finals of the 1992 tourney. Once again, the Blue Devils players and fans were drunk with delirium after Laettner's buzzer-beater sank Kentucky in overtime. Once again, Coach K declined to join them. Rather, he made his way through the Kentucky players and coaches and offered condolences.
Then he went over to where Cawood Ledford, the legendary radio voice of Kentucky basketball, was broadcasting, put on a headset and spoke directly to the team's fans back home. Krzyzewski was certainly happy for the win, but at that moment, a naked moment if ever there was one, he was coaching a different game.
As Duke's coach the last 21 years, Coach K has carried himself with a grace and integrity that makes all of us who are associated with this university proud. Contrary to what you might have heard, he is not a perfect man--let's face it, he can be a little too self-righteous, even Machiavellian, at times--but it is a rare person who can attain such exalted status while maintaining a real semblance of humility. Last fall, I saw him standing in a locker room in Madison Square Garden when an old writer friend came over to introduce his teenage son. Coach K stuck his hand out to the youngster and said, "Hi. I'm Mike Krzyzewski." As if he didn't know.
There may be some debate this weekend over which of Coach K's teams was his finest, but in my mind there's no contest: It's his family. I've seen the drastic toll that the coaching profession can take on marriages and families, yet Krzyzewski has always ensured that his wife, Mickie, and their three daughters felt like the most important members of his team. As for his other teammates, well, I like to tease him about his Catholic guilt (though as a Jew I can relate), and so I have no doubt he'll feel guilty at times this weekend because their names can't be etched on that Hall-of-Fame plaque right alongside his.
So as the basketball world commemorates his legacy and his special weekend gets underway, I'd like to offer Coach K one piece of advice, unsolicited as usual: Celebrate this weekend. All weekend. Every millisecond. If only to allow your teammates the chance to pat you on the back.
Seth Davis, Trinity '92, is a staff writer at Sports Illustrated and a college basketball analyst for CNNSI. He was an assistant sports editor at The Chronicle from 1990-92.
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