Tuesday, March 31, 2009

Appreciation of a Heartbreak - Cpt. III

I should have known that Pitt was against the ropes on Saturday for a number of reasons.

First - Pitt had not really played well since their defeat of UConn on March 7th. A loss to West Virginia paired with three nail-biters against inferior opponents saw the Panthers playing with fire leading to a clash against a familiar opponent. I'm not claiming Pitt to be equivalent to the 1985 Georgetown squad, but I know that Pitt can't seem to beat the Wildcats in Philadelphia nor were they as intimidating as the Hoyas of the 80s.

Second - I had taken the liberty of recording "The Perfect Upset," the HBO documentary on the 1985 National Championship game between Villanova and Georgetown. HBO completed this show around four years ago and I had always wanted to catch it. It took me four years before the epiphany to record it entered my brain; I've gotten so much smarter in my later 20s. With the weather as poor as it was on Saturday, I finally got around to watching it. If you ever get the chance to watch an HBO sports documentary...do it. They are so thorough and enchanting that you once you finish watching, you want to learn more. Consider the things that I learned in that hour:

a) The NCAA tournament had expanded just that year from 53 teams to 64.
b) Villanova was ripped to shreds by Pitt in its final regular season game, a game where their head coach sat all of the starters instead of trying to mount a comeback in the second half. They were the poster children for being "on the bubble."
c) After hearing they had made the tournament as an 8-seed, the Wildcats had to travel to Dayton to play the Dayton Flyers (talk about a home-court advantage...)

And a ton more - come by my place, we'll watch it together. How-ev-fah, after watching the program, I just didn't have the best feeling about the game forthcoming in 5 hours. Villanova had history and destiny on its side. Their famous head coach, Rollie Massimino was attending their games. There were a lot of similarities to the '85 team - like playing with nothing to lose, like being told they would lose their last two games, like having great shooters and superior guard play. And what am I doing watching this documentary TODAY? Foolishness and folly.

AND FINALLY, with all of the statistics, match-ups, bad karma, history, and conference battles from the past, there was Patty. Proud alum from the class of 2004, Patty is Wildcat. And when pitted against Patty, 10 times out of 9, I will lose.

As long as I've been blessed to know Patty, even since our first date, I've badgered her about her sports loyalties. Since that first date, I would routinely remind her when Villanova was on television, updated with how they were doing in the Big East standings, ask if she wanted specific Villanova gear for Valentine's Day...you know, normal stuff that anyone would do for their fiancee. I can't say that she was always tuned in to me, but she normally smiles and nods and ponders the mess she's gotten herself into. Patty also has a lot of stability, of which I have none. Patty's world does not revolve around home-field advantage, Davids vs. Goliaths, or strikeouts-to-walks ratios like it does for me. If she misses the Super Bowl...ehh, no big deal. If the Celtics win the NBA title...that's nice. Johnny Damon gets traded to Yankees...life goes on.

Patty knew the game on Saturday was monumental not just for me and my well-being, but for my family. As only she knows how, Patty phones my dad in Pittsburgh and leaves a tauntingly derisive message: "I hope you wearing your Villanova sweatshirt that I bought you. I know that I'll have mine on." Bully!

At 7PM, I take my place on the couch pretty much a trainwreck with every possession - not as bad as the Super Bowl or Stanley Cup, but easily the most fragile I've been for a college basketball game. With 16 minutes to go in the first half, Patty calls. I think to myself, "if I don't take this call, Pitt is going to lose. I need to pick up the phone for Pitt's sake." I do and, in her most cheerful tone, Patty calls to see how I'm doing and figured it would be early enough in the game to call. With a towel on my leg to wipe the nervousness from my palms, I smoothly state that I'm fine and boldly predict the game is going to be great. "I hope you can watch some of it," I suggested. "I think you will enjoy it."

"I think I will," she says.

Kiss of death. Game over. Thanks for playing.

After the loss was completed, I phoned Casey to let her know that I was OK and Gaetan to congratulate Philadelphia. We spoke at length about the key points in the contest and when we finished, I had missed a call from Patty. The first thing Patty says when she picks up, "WOW, Matthew, that was so exciting. I'm so glad I watched THE LAST 20 MINUTES." As she goes into further detail about her viewing experience, I was duct-taping my heart back together as it lay all over my living room. I didn't know whether to cry softly or bawl uncontrollably. Usually after catastrophes like this one, I'm incorrigible. But truthfully, a part of me was happy for Villanova. It's like I told Casey, I think the worst part is going to be watching the shot over and over again wishing it didn't go through the net. Villanova is very good and it would be great to see them take down mighty North Carolina. But it sure would be nice to have Pitt with that opportunity.

Now Patty is preparing herself for the Tar Heels by working on grants, planning for a wedding, and supporting teachers to that need lesson plan assistance. It's worked for her so far, there's no reason why it won't now. And it's like my dad said in his counter-message to her: "One of these days, you and I will be rooting for the same team during the same game."

One of these days...Maybe I should take a page from her book of preparation. I might actually live longer and end-up with more duct tape.

Sunday, March 29, 2009

Appreciation of a Heartbreak - Cpt. II

(Make sure to start at Cpt. I)

I've had about 24 hours to digest Pitt's removal from the 2009 NCAA tournament. I have avoided watching SportsCenter, stayed away from reading any Pittsburgh news articles or papers, and tried not to replay the key points of the game repeatedly in my mind.

If you're invested in a team, it's innate for you to cyclically experience ultimate highs and lows as a fan. It's easy to remember the best of times and worst of times and this certainly will rank as a low, for me, as a Pitt fan. It's beneficial (and refreshing) to continue to remind myself of both some of the more catastrophic heartbreaks in my day as well as the endings to every Pitt season that I can remember since I was 10.

I've seen the Pirates lose on the final play in Game 7 of the NLCS, sending the Braves to the World Series and permanently scarring my childhood.

I've seen the Penguins get upset by the Islanders to miss playing for the Stanley Cup.

I've watched the Steelers lose at home to the Chargers for the right to go to the Super Bowl.

And many more and so on and so forth...Those were particularly life-changing losses that brought a week's worth of depression to the city, if not longer. That, too, was in a three-year stretch between October 1992 and January 1995 - no wonder I had a long face all of the time. And as these three sports powers floundered under the brightest lights, Pitt basketball (and football, for that matter) was not even in the conversation.

As a youth, my buddy Joe would routinely invite me to go to the old Fitzgerald Field House to watch Pitt play since I was nine. Since Pitt was always middle-of-the-road mediocre, we never really knew what to expect; they could beat the #5 team in the land or fall to a squad 10 games under .500. Pitt made the NCAA tournament when I was 12 and I thought it was THE GREATEST THING IN THE WORLD. That year, they lost to Utah in the first round and would not return to the Big Dance until 2002! Heck...Joe, my friends, and I were bouncing off the walls when they made it to the NIT in 1997. We got to attend their first round game against New Orleans and watched Vonteego Cummings and Mark Blount beat up the Musketeers for the first round win. The place was packed and it looked like Pitt hoops was back! That small taste of success went such a long way in a town starving for basketball promise.

The point that I'm probably unsuccessfully trying to make is that Pitt fans have never been exposed to this kind of sustained success. Do you know why Kentucky's heart were broken by Christian Laettner...because Kentucky and Duke are on that stage consistently. Do you know why no one really talks that much about George Mason stunning UConn in the Elite 8 in 2006...because UConn has two banners hanging from their rafters and they have been a Big East power for the last 20 years.

Pitt has made the Big Dance every year since I was a junior in college. Every time they lost, though, it was close with about 4 minutes remaining in the game, and then they would commit a turnover or miss some shots and wind-up falling by a deflating margin. They've managed to lose to powerhouses Kent State, Pacific, and Bradley during this tournament streak, as well as cupcakes like UCLA, Michigan State, Oklahoma State, and Marquette (I've since come to accept all six of these defeats expect the Pacific one - that's a long story we'll save for another chapter.) This setback against Villanova still stings and will for a while. But I'm happy to know the Panthers put themselves in position to get there and not settle for moderate success

More filibustering soon to come...

Saturday, March 28, 2009

Appreciation of a Heartbreak - Cpt. I

There was not a better college basketball game played this season than the one tonight in Boston to decide the East Regional and a birth in the Final Four. Pitt and Villanova epitomized everything that was great about March Madness, college basketball, the Big East, the Commonwealth of Pennsylvania, or anything the relates to competition and sport. As I sat on my coach and studied the television for those 40 minutes, the Panthers and Wildcats each were able to play their own brand of hoops that was beautiful to watch. And for all but one second, the game was perfectly even.

Like my buddy Gaetan said, "If they play ten times, Nova wins five and Pitt wins five."

The problem for me is that it's not a ten-game series.

With a terrific play at the end of the game, Scottie Reynolds ripped the hearts from everyone in Western Pennsylvania, ending the careers of three of Pitt's sterling seniors, and slamming the door on Pitt's best Final Four hopes since the Nixon era.

There are so many plays and surges in the game that are zooming through my memory bank right now that it's hard to gather them all. You never thought either team had a command on the tempo or the lead; there was just too much leadership and skill on both sides. The coaches were too polished. The moment was too precious.

Villanova, though, was more than deserving of their victory this evening. Quietly, they watched as Pitt, Louisville, and Connecticut took the spotlight in the conference for the duration of the season. They stood to the side as Syracuse was making it's run in the Big East Tournament and ascension to a #3 seed. They remained quiet even as Marquette's best player got injured at the end of the season and stole some of the headlines.

On the biggest stage, Villanova proved why it's not just a terrific basketball team, but a terrific basketball school. Last year, they were a 12 SEED and made it to the Sweet Sixteen. Three years ago, they made it to the Elite Eight and lost to National Champ Florida. Four years ago they got robbed in the Sweet Sixteen and fell to National Champ North Carolina. Jay Wright has the program anchored in successful seas. If we were to lose to any school in the conference, I would probably want it to be them.

Despite the final score, I have never in all of my years as a Pittsburgh sports fan been more appreciative of the work and heart the team put together, really, over 54 weeks. I was there last March when practically the same squad ran ragged through the Big East in New York City to capture the conference title, winning four games in four days, culminating with a win over mighty Georgetown. They play hard every game, will go toe-to-toe with anyone in the country, and leave an impression on all of their opponents. Along with the rest of the city and alumni, I would not have wanted anything more than to see the beloved Panthers in Detroit next weekend. It will sting every time we have to watch the highlights of Reynolds' game winning drive. They probably won't show Blair's coast-to-coast layup plus the foul or Young's clutch three-pointer to pull within one or Dixon's steal with seconds left or Fields' two free throws to tie the game with 5.5 seconds. You'll remember the dribble drive and the shot to send the Wildcats forward and the Panthers home.


It might feel like all is lost, but it isn't. The team proved it can get past the Sweet Sixteen hurdle, something it had not done in over 30 years. It proved it can beat a #1 team in the country, taking down UConn twice after losing their previous 13 attempts at a #1 team. It proved it can beat a team higher than a #5 seed in the NCAA tournament. It's proving it can harvest NBA talent. The hurt will stay with Coach Dixon and the players forever, but they should be proud of their 31 victories and their stake as a powerhouse in the best basketball conference in the country. Villanova may have won this round, but there may be nine more opportunities down the line.

More tomorrow...

Thursday, March 19, 2009

The Joys of Recruiting

March is a very anxious time for many high school seniors around the country. Roughly 1/4 of them are set in their immediate future for the upcoming autumn. They may choose to enroll in the military, register for the work force, or have been accepted into a college or a university through an early decision process or binding agreement. This leaves the other 3/4 of the upcoming high school graduating class of 2009 remaining to bite their nails, check their mailboxes hourly, daydream about what could be, and sweat through each of their friend's acceptance letters. For those 5,000 or so seniors and transfers that applied to Davidson, March 30th is the big day. The incoming freshmen class will total about 470, leaving over 90% of all applicants to find pastures other than the ones between Main and Concord.

This backdrop was wringing in my head (yes wringing, not ringing) all last weekend as I voyaged 1,287 miles around the Eastern United States to watch recruits that have Davidson on their "favorites" list as well as find some future talent that might look good as a Wildcat. None of the swimmers I would watch compete were yet admitted into Davidson nor knew of any financial package that would be made available to them. And while I wanted to be the bearer of joyous news, the only information that I could really offer to each of them was, "admissions told me not to not pursue you, so that's good for both of us."

My big recruiting escapade began last Thursday and span over four days, four states, and six swim sessions. I could hardly sleep the night before; I was so charged to be driving to Pennsylvania to represent a small North Carolina liberal arts school that people probably only heard of because of the basketball team's magical run 12 months ago. Driving wasn't the first part of my day, though; it was spinning. Nothing says "get your rest before logging 510 miles like peddling as hard as you can for 50 minutes." It didn't matter - I think that got my heart pumping a little faster and by 9:30AM, I was off to Bucknell.

Thursday night I witnessed one of our prize recruits earn eighth place in the 100 freestyle and anchor her 400 free relay. Including her 100 butterfly, 50 butterfly, and two events on Thursday, she had swum best times in all of them and would be a tremendous addition to the squad. It was great speaking with her after the entire meet concluded. She was so ecstatic about the times she posted, about her teammates, and about how far she had come in just one year. "I really can see myself swimming for Davidson," she said as our rendezvous concluded. It was a great feeling for both of us.

The pleasures of work quickly were subdued by the gloom of Lewistown, PA. After dropping triple figures on a suite next to the highway and setting a record for fastest steak and cheese hoagie eaten by a featherweight, I was off to sleep, ready for the AAA championships at the same venue. This was slightly more crowded but more feverish in speed. A recruit that is looking to come to Davidson was in the stands, watching her brother compete in the 200 freestyle. I could spend hours talking to this recruit; extremely pleasant, positive, and charged by the prospect of swimming at Davidson. I did star some nice talent Pennsylvania has to offer and got to share pleasantries with a few parents - none of which I had ever met before that morning. Once the session concluded, I was headed to Fairfax.

I arrived at the finals of the Senior Championship meet just in time to glance over the morning results and witness the finals. There were many familiar faces in attendance and watching the meet from the stands at a pool I had coached at for four seasons was very surreal. The two Davidson recruits at this meet swam pretty well. The young lady was swimming for a third swim in Junior Nationals via the 100 butterfly and she got it! The young man was looking for similar glory in the 100 breaststroke but just fell short. I was not able to chat with the breaststroker, but the young lady spent a few moments with me after the session and you could tell that she was happy to be going in multiple distances and events.

After scouting the same meet on Saturday morning, I drove to Maryland to watch a YMCA District Meet. The young man we are recruiting is quite versatile - solid in most events - and has been a lot of fun to speak with over the phone - very lively and enthusiastic about being a freshman in college. He earned finals swims in the 200 free, 50 free, and 200 back and swam well in all of these. After the meet had concluded, he was one of the final few people to reach the lobby among the hundreds of swimmers and parents. What a delightful kid! His mother joined our conversation and 45 minutes later, we both left with excellent impressions.

I'm slowly learning that recruiting can bring extreme joy flipped by extreme heartbreak. Davidson in lucky to be getting a sprinter from Maryland that I had been in contact with and am proud that John gave me to opportunity to land him. Conversely, two prize recruits that were my responsibility have sought Emory and the University of Richmond as their homes for the next four years. But the beat rolls on and you have to keep up. You continue to talk, you continue to listen, and you continue to look for those student-athletes that you feel would best represent your institution. Recruiting can be a 24/7 whirlwind if you choose. That extra effort can be the difference between extreme joy and extreme heartbreak.

---> To make use of my Twitter account, I am going to inform the masses of any recruiting trips, news, and conversations I have. Should be compelling...

Monday, March 9, 2009

An Official Godfather

This past weekend I was in Houston visting Patty's brother, Brian, his wife Kesa, and their 9-week old son, Athanasius James (A.J. for short.) It was AJ's baptism and Brian was gracious enough to ask me to be AJ's godfather, which was quite an honor for me. When Brian called around the middle of January, I was perfectly content with talking about the NFL Playoffs or how conference play had started or about our jobs. But when he asked if I wanted to be AJ's godfather, I will floored.

(Patty kindly informed me that I was something like their 4th choice for godfather, so that quickly brought me back to Earth. It sent me down Memory Lane to my sophomore year in high school when I was asked to go to prom with a JUNIOR GIRL!!! As excited as I was to attend, after I accepted her offer, the young lady - who will remain nameless - was relieved that finally, on the seventh try, she would be going to prom. Awesome.)

The weekend was a complete success for me. Not only did I enjoy holding AJ and carrying around the house, but the two of us got to spend some quality time together contemplating the roles each of us would play.

"Is a godfather like a crazy uncle?" I would ask him.

Apparently speech recognition comes much later that 3 months. AJ would just utter some breathing noices. Actually he quite a "burrower," like a gopher or a puppy trying to get under blankets. He's got a strong right arm cross and power to hold on to my massive shoulders, even at a ripe age.

"The way I see it," I continued during one of our three pre-nap discussions, "crazy uncle and godfather share similar roles. If you feel like you ever need someone to laugh, you can call me. Right? That works for me."

More breathing...eyes begin to get heavy. I have a lot of experience in these kinds of situations from talking to Patty. If I keep talking, the subject will eventually fall into a REM 4 slumber within one minute.

"I'm going to give you one piece of advice - stay loyal. Don't just start liking your Red Sox because they are good and forget them when they only win 90 games."

AJ seemed to awaken a little with that. We bounced around a little longer before the godson was too tuckered out to continue with our back-and-forth chit chat. I'm sure that he was thinking, "maybe if I close my eyes, I will be in my bathtub at not in this guy's grip (AJ loves bathtime, by the way.) But, with that first nugget of wisdom, I was on my way to being a godfather.

AJ is in for such a treat.



Wednesday, March 4, 2009

The Conference Meet - Part III - Reflection

Like most highly-anticipated events, this one was over and done with in a matter of moments. It might have been a four-day jaunt, but relative to it's preparation, it was a snap of the finger, a blip on the radar, a bolt of lightning.

For a program like Davidson, talented at the Division I mid-major level with aspirations of greater successes, calling the conference championship meet the pinnacle of the season would be a gross understatement. You dream of every conference championship unfolding just as you would plan the moment the previous conference meet concluded. It's just so important; it paves the way for next season's returning swimmers and divers and entices recruits to join a program headed upward and onward. It sparks alumni to relive past glories while assisting in future ones. The athletic department basks in the program's success while listening to methods of strengthening it's foundation. Other programs and individuals can boast of NCAA championship births or Olympic qualifying standards, but those are few and far between from the student-athletes at the majority of institutions.

The privilege accompanied with holding a ticket for that roller-coaster ride and having a spot on deck at the CCSA Championships did not come cheap. When you live by yourself in a small-town, away from friends, family, fiancee, and finances, there is plenty of time to ponder, reflect, and consider the path that you took to get in this very position. Please don't mistake this as a cry for help, a symbol of martyrdom (although I'm sure I do that a lot,) or a plea to escape. It is what it is - I have a lot of time to reflect - as do many others in my position. For me, the lure of collegiate swim coaching IS the conference meet, and not just those fours days, but the understanding of the journey to get to Athens and the subsequent unraveling of the meet.

It certainly did not disappoint.

You can measure a season's success and shortcomings in a variety of ways: best times, team discipline, turnover, hugs, revenue, etc. I can't say that the season was a complete success. After all, you would never want to rest on your laurels and settle for what you can improve. However, I can tell you that I could not have asked for a better group of kids to associate myself with, to guide, to learn from, and to carry me through the baptism of being a college swim coach. I know that I made plenty of mistakes along the way. It's very humbling hearing them steered right at you. In teaching, sometimes we tend to sugar-coat the truth when a good smack in the face or douse of ice water would have done the trick just fine. It's not just the student-athletes. The bond formed by the coaches must be predicated on trust and the understanding that we are working towards a common goal. Feelings can get hurt but never out of spite but, conversely, out of care.

Now bundle all of those thoughts, reflect on all of the dual meets, invitationals, gut-retching practices, all-nighters, early risers, bickers, tough love moments, ripped suits, speeches, and fatigue, and you've got yourself a season. That's racing through your head leading to meet and dominating your thoughts once the final chapter to the season has been written. This season has reaffirmed the commitment I would like to embody as a leader. The conference meet might have passed us in a flash, but the personal investment you make to those kids, whether the brightest star or the statistician, is as on-going as the earth revolving. I'm proud of what the team has accomplished and it makes every sacrifice worth-while.

I have learned a lot from these Wildcats and I would love to share all of these moments with you. I love coaching and teaching student-athletes to attain their greatest potentials. Yes, going best times when it counted the most was gratifying. It's also nice to store two more plaques in the office and to display such blazing speeds to future Wildcats. For me, though, the greatest sense of satisfaction is hearing those kids not only appreciate what THEY got out of the season, but what business has yet been unfinished and what they will do to finish it. The grind of a swim season can be like no other and the oasis of rest and a looser schedule is quite appealing. To push that aside, put your team first, and willingly challenge yourself to a higher standard is nothing short of motivating and inspirational.

Let's face it, next year's conference meet is right around the corner. It must be time to start thinking about it.