Mac, cont.'

Coach John McMullen (R) with me at our lunch
before the NCAA West Regional in L.A.
 

By Ed Piper

John McMullen, my varsity basketball coach (see previous entry), knew his x's and o's, like any good technical coach, but he was also a motivator.

He was obviously intent on his coaching and going further, because after a handful of years at Camarillo High from about 1968 to 1976, he took an assistant coaching position at BYU, and then after a purge there due to some unfortunate seasons on to Santa Monica College, where he achieved state Hall of Fame-worthy status.

 

With me, "Mac" used fear. I have to put that in context. He wasn't a mean person. Like I said, he was intent in his coaching. He wasn't just rolling out the balls. As I experienced him as my coach my junior and senior years in high school, he didn't turn his intensity off and on. So, when you dealt with him, he was transmitting a seriousness toward basketball--like, let's work hard in practice, let's work to get better.

I have twice told him this recollection: After I scored 18 and 31 points, respectively, in two games, I think Channel Islands on Friday night, Oxnard on Saturday night, I read in the Oxnard Press-Courier (newspaper) the headline, "Piper Pots 31." My head couldn't handle that. I had never scored anywhere near that number of points in a game previously in my short basketball career.

By Monday, I had the figurative swelled head. I don't think I tried to get a swelled head. I just had never experienced success like this before.

 

So, in practice after school that afternoon, McMullen was explaining something to us out on the court. As he instructed, I was here-and-there with my attention, which was obvious to him as he looked at the assembled team in front of him. Getting perturbed at my inattention, he flicked the clipboard toward me.

 

I was in the second line of players, so the clipboard bumped into the teammate in front of me. That upset Mac (whom we would never address that way to his face) even more, so he was pretty irritated.

 

He wasn't abusive, he wasn't a screamer, he didn't use profanity. I've seen and heard all of this kind of stuff from coaches during my 14 years covering high school sports close-up in the San Diego area, since 2004. When I hefted my big cameras (which I have since sold due to back trouble), I was often feet away from some of these coaches--enabling me to see and hear every word they're saying, in some cases.

Coach McMullen, when I've recounted this anecdote to him both times, has responded in some surprise. I think I need to explain to him that I don't mean to portray the incident as being one where he was inappropriate or violent. Having been surprised with the anecdote in a friendly social setting, he probably hasn't been sure where I've been coming from.

Maybe it's not the best thing to toss a clipboard. He certainly wasn't trying to hurt anyone. And he wasn't out of control. I just think, with his command of the team and his seriousness, he saw my complete distractedness--and reacted.

I have told people before that I was more scared of McMullen than our opponents. What I mean by that is that I think, as the effective motivator that he was, my coach knew that I needed a little fire built under me. I was competitive, but I was also maybe too nice on the court, not wanting to foul or elbow. Well, honestly, rebounding under the basket, if you allow another player to take up extra space and push you aside, you're not going to be very effective.

During my senior year, I experienced a struggle between trying to be a good person in school and how that played out on the basketball court. I took Humanities, a new elective taught by Kay Senior. We explored what it has meant through history (classical Greece and Rome included) to live "the good life". I remember I had to make a collage representing some of the elements I identified with this.

I had Ms. Senior last period.

 

Then, minutes later, after changing into my basketball gear, I was out on the gym court being pushed to perform well by McMullen. It was tough to get in there and be aggressive earlier in my playing.

Later, after I had played through community college and tried out and not made the team at Chico State my junior year, thereby ending my organized basketball career, I found it much more natural to be aggressive under the boards, using my hands as needed, jockeying for rebounding position.

 

That resolution, which enabled me to be a pretty good defensive rebounder, came largely because Coach McMullen urged me to quit being so "nice" (meaning getting pushed around) and pointed the way toward occupying more space on the floor and keeping it.