In 1990, Duke played UNLV in the Final Four of the NCAA Tournament, and got beat by 30 points. When the Duke team met for breakfast the next morning, an assistant coach declared out loud that he “couldn’t wait to forget about that one!”
Coach Mike Kryzewski had been subdued until then, but upon hearing his assistant coach’s wish to forget about the 30 points loss, he went into what has been described as a “tirade.” In calmer moments, he went to each member of his staff and team to make his point to their face. He told them to never forget about the terrible defeat; to never forget how bad it feels, and to use the sting of the defeat as motivation to improve.
Duke met UNLV in the Final Four the very next year, and beat them.
Coach Mike Hayes shares more with Kryzewski than a name. Winning coaches like Hayes and Kryzewski also share some common traits. They all teach defense. They believe in conditioning. And, they become obsessed with defeats. Particularly defeats that smack them in the face of their philosophy. Back when I was playing for Coach Hayes in the 7th grade, we played a Meigs County team that had a player, Clarence Moore, that nailed us for 36 points, and they beat us.
It was not Coach Hayes’ philosophy to allow an opposing player to score 36 points.
What ensued for us in the coming weeks should be taught in coaching clinics, and for that matter, business schools because it defined the essence of the word “preparation” as it was total in the sense that it involved the mind, body, and spirit. And the act of preparing to meet this team later in the season was immediate: when I walked into school the next morning, Coach Hayes met me and immediately asked, “how many points to you think Clarence Moore got last night?”
I knew he scored a lot, but didn’t know how many he had ended up with…
Coach Hayes filled me in.
A person can verbalize the number “36,” and it sounds just like any number. It’s “36” … no more, and no less, but when Coach Hayes said “36” it was pure venom … ugly and shameful! Before the day was out, I felt that “36” had been branded on my forehead for the world to see. I was ashamed of what had happened, and I hoped no one else knew.
However, everyone else did know because Coach Hayes was telling them, and if they didn’t understand the significance of “36,” then he explained it to them just as he did in our History class that met that day during 4th period. And further, he had already let Coach Galyon know of our monumental failure because I had heard about it in our 1st period math class. Coach Galyon asked in a question directed at me, “how did YOU allow a player to score that many points?”
I could have responded that the guy I was guarding didn’t score any points, but the mentality that Coach Hayes was creating was already taking shape – it was a blow to our team, and it didn’t matter who was guarding Clarence Moore. The team concept that had infiltrated our young minds was simply this: after being in school that day for less than 1 hour, it might as well have been me because the responsibility was as much mine as my teammates. Couldn’t I have slid across the lane to stop a drive? Couldn’t I have stepped out to get a hand in his face? The Coach had me doing some much needed soul-searching. I soon found out that the rest of team was also searching for answers.
As a team, we knew this guy, Clarence Moore, had stolen our lollipops. He had insulted our manhoods (yes, as 7th and 8th graders, we thought we were very mature just as they do now … just ask them), and he stood in the way of dignity and self-respect for the rest of our lives…
So, the Coach Hayes propaganda machine had created a strong sense of determination in not only me, but in the rest of our team. In only a day, he had broken us down to such a state that we were ready to be built back up into a lean and mean, Coach Hayes built, fighting machine!
Unified for a common cause, we were put through conditioning drills while being reminded that Clarence Moore had scored 36 points on us. Defensive drills? Oh yes, … that’s basically all we worked on, and while we worked we were reminded, seemingly with each breath that some player, Clarence Moore, had scored 36 points on each individual one of us … if you never played a second in that game, Clarence Moore had stuck 36 points in your face and embarrassed you in front of your mommas and sweethearts. If Coach Hayes would have thought of it, he would have had “36” flashing on our scoreboard during practice, and he would probably have recorded and played “36” in the background as the numbers flashed. Could you imagine that? I think Coach Hayes could.
Our mindset at this point had turned from fear to desire: we actually wanted to face this Meigs Country team, and their star player, Clarence Moore, as soon as possible. The movie Star Wars had been out about a year at that time: in the movie, Luke goes off to the jungle planet of Dagobah where Yoda declares that “to become a Jedi, face Vader must he.” In other words, you had to face your toughest opponent to be proclaimed a Jedi.
Well, Coach Mike Hayes had us believing that to become a Midway Basketball player, and to earn the right to wear the green uniforms, we had to face and defeat Clarence Moore … as far we were concerned, he was Darth Vader, and for the good of the big green universe, he must be destroyed.
It was Eddie Lands that was given the assignment of dealing with the Clarence Moore situation – Eddie was a tough and hard-nosed athlete that later became a star defensive lineman for Coach Branson’s football teams. Coach Hayes announced that Eddie would be “the man” much the same way as Mr. Hayes now does when he revealing the Homecoming Queen winner … he had that “pause” that you have before making an important and significant announcement. He gathered the team and said, “I have decided the man that I’m going to put on Clarence Moore is … Eddie Lands.”
I’m sure that all eyes shot to Eddie to gauge his reaction. I know mine did, and what I saw was a look of fierce determination on Eddie’s face, as he accepted the challenge without verbalizing it – you could see that he understood the monumental task that lay in front of him, and he wanted it. It is important to note that Eddie’s reaction was a complete reflection of the attitude that Coach Hayes had instilled since the loss. It was clearly no nonsense and tough with a “get the job done” mentality. More importantly, it was “all of us” against them. And then what I saw was a team start to develop – Coach Hayes didn’t say a word as players started to gather around Eddie to offer encouragement.
Our mindset at this point? We were going to war, and Eddie Lands was the key part of the mission. As a team, our role was to support Eddie, and I think we all bought into the concept.
So time flew by, and we practiced our defense and went through endless conditioning drills. Minimal time was spent on offense because Coach Hayes knew we weren’t very good anyway (remember, he was a coach and not a miracle worker). An interesting personal take that I recall from this particular period is that I have very few individual memories of the preparations, or of the game when it occurred. Upon reflecting on this apparent “memory loss,” I’ve discounted the fact that it happened 30 years ago (as I can give a lot of detail about the first meeting between our teams), or that I might have played so bad that it was all blocked from my memory … I believe that it was the total submersion into the team concept. A concept, in this case, created by Coach Hayes.
We won the game against Clarence Moore’s team. I recall a specific point in the 2nd half at which Moore turned the ball over. Eddie had been in his face for the duration of the game, and it had gotten to him. Moore rolled his eyes, turned, and walked down the court staring up at the ceiling with his hands on his hips. His energy was spent while Eddie was hopping up and down clapping his hands, and encouraging the rest of us to pick up the tempo. It was then that I knew we would win the game.
Clarence Moore finished with 12 points – 8 of which came from the foul line. Eddie finished with 14.
Immediately after the game Coach Hayes entered the locker room, and immediately sought Eddie from the crowd. He extended his hand, and Eddie shook it with enthusiasm – it was the most professional thing I had ever seen.
The mindset that Coach Hayes created was special. If you follow sports, you have undoubtedly heard of “the zone” or that special place that your mind goes when everything works relative to your shots or your passes. As an individual, the game slows down, and you start to anticipate plays. The zone is almost always attributed to individuals, but Coach Hayes created “the zone” in a team. Did he plan it that way? If so then it was ingenious. Could it have been a circumstance driven by the pride that Coach Hayes carried as a basketball coach? If so, then that was also, in my opinion, ingenious … and there are several books that I could recommend that could attest to that idea.
In my opinion, Mike Hayes was good enough to win championships at any level. That means if he had been given a talented team in the SEC, he would have competed and his teams would have performed as well as any SEC coach (including Summit, Landers, etc). So if you’re wondering, “why didn’t he?” Well, you’ll have to ask him … but I think he simply made the choice to come to Midway High School and become a part of a community, thus foregoing the pursuit of success on larger stages. If so, then that is an incredibly unselfish choice to make, and the principal reason he deserves a GREEN WAVE of gratitude in his journey into retirement!