Greenville coach’s take on the run to 200

Greenville coach George Barber has seen and heard it all about his team’s 200-point outing on Saturday, and how the team got to that final point total. He shared his thoughts with, and they run below, unedited.

With 173 points and with roughly 6 minutes to go, I said “Go for it.” I had never seen that many points on a scoreboard with that much time left in the game.

I knew I would take heat; I deserve any scorn people might have, and hope I respond well. I said, “If they keep trying to score, we will keep trying to score.”

There was a palpable shift in the crowd in the final minutes from “Will they win?”, to “Will they get 200?” You could feel it.

With 10 seconds to go, opponent’s ball and at 198 points, I called time out. I told the team, “You will never be this close again. Never. So go for a steal or foul but give yourself a chance. If we don’t get it (200) no problem, but being this close, you will regret if you don’t try.”

They got it.

A lot of the angst centers around winning and losing, and where sportsmanship fits in once one of those possibilities is certain. This brings up a point we make with our team all the time. Is winning an idol? We have a wallpaper sign in our locker room that says: “De-emphasize the Win, Play with Freedom.” If you take away the possibility of winning, (or losing) will you still play hard? Is it only about winning and losing? With our style we can be up 30 and lose, down 30 and come back and win, and even if there is no possibility of one or the other, will you give it your best? Will you give it your absolute best?

This was a conference game against a team that has beaten us often. Earlier in January we beat them by 12, and were losing with about 10 minutes to play.

I was nervous because it was Senior Day with a lot of distractions and was just hoping we would play well. One of my starting point guards (we rotate 10-15 players a game and call anyone in the top 10 a starter) was out with an injury (he literally told me as we sent him to the scorer’s table checking in – I can’t go). So instead, we played a JV point guard (2nd Varsity game ever) all game. We had suspensions, ineligibility due to lack of financial aid and unpaid bills, and academic dismissals, etc. The bench was full of guys in street clothes. I was just hoping to survive. We caught fire from the three, and as the game wound down, I remember thinking, I’ve never seen a score this high (173), with this much time on the clock (just over 6 mins) and that’s when I made a decision: If they (opponents) keep trying to score, we’ll keep trying to score and see what happens. I knew some people would crucify me, but with seniors playing in front of their parents, some for the first time live in a college uniform, we would go for it. I emphasized trying (for the goal), not necessarily getting it (the 200), in the last five minutes.

After the game we had, as I expected, some negative feedback. I deserved all of that. After the time out with 10 seconds to go (we rarely call a time out in System play) I told the team to, by all means, possible (steal or foul) get the ball back and to give yourselves a chance to get 200. As I sat down beside my assistant after the time out, I said, “No matter what the outcome, I will never regret calling that time out. I want to give the kids a chance to do something amazing.”

At that point I felt 198 to whatever the opponents had would not have been as memorable as 200 would be.

We had no idea that the D-III record was 201, and didn’t care and still don’t. As a System coach, pushing the edges of what’s possible you wonder if that’s possible. System Patriarchs ask that question about scoring 200 in the book “The System,” and in calls. The authors said they never got 200, although they tried, but never were able to achieve it, so that’s all we were going for when it got close. As long as they kept trying to score (and they did) we would keep trying to score as well. That was the only way we would go for it. It’s like doing anything extraordinary you have to have co-facilitators, otherwise it’s not any fun, or as legit. Since this was a conference game, and against a team that beat us last year in a double overtime NCAA combined scoring record setting game, and not in any way an inferior team we scheduled to run the score up against, I thought, this is as legit as it gets. It’s as fair as it gets, it’s how we play, it’s the last 5 or 6 minutes of the game and we are close enough for me to say, “I’ll let the kids go for it.”

George Barber and his seniors, who were honored before the game. (Greenville athletics photo)

They (the team) hate it when I pull the press off. We don’t even practice, ever, defense without a press.

Side note, a couple of weeks ago, we were up 40 with 10 mins to go and my assistant said maybe we should consider taking off the press. I agreed and you could see a real let down in the kids. I told them we don’t want any hard feeling with the opponent’s coach. The opponent from that point on stormed back in the game, however we held on to win by 12 or 13. In that game, we had two players in the same shift (unusual) with a lot of points. One had over 30, and one had 28. I asked the one with 28 (and the entire team) not to shoot allowing him to go for 30. He was frustrated, but he complied and dribbled out the last 30 seconds. I felt bad for him, but was so proud of his compliance and deference to me and my decision to put team goals and relationships above his personal goals.

In the 200 point game, I wondered if people might understand the desire to reach that goal. Some do not, at least for now. I truly feel bad about that because I think preserving relationships is important. I just felt I would take that risk since 200 was such a “way out there, number.”

After the game, we introduced parents and guests, and follow that our usual “Put-up’s” (we do this whether we win or lose), where we let players give each other compliments about things they did well during the game, followed by an “ATTAWAAAY!” cheer from the team. After our Put-Up’s I told them, “You just went to the moon! Not very many people get to go to the moon! (Scoring 200) Also, not everyone likes it that you went to the moon. Their will be some that don’t like it and will say negative things. Our job will be to respond graciously to both compliments and negative comments.” They all nodded, we had a little further conversation, and it was a great teaching moment.

I almost feel like I have to apologize for doing this, and certainly that’s fair for some to think. I remember the first time we played System basketball, and the agonizing decisions I had to make after thoroughly researching this style of play before making that decision to go for it. I knew, once we went for it, there was no going back. On long, silent, in the dark early morning jogs, trying to contemplate all the implications of playing this style of basketball, and fully aware of the possible negative reactions, I decided to paint Picasso style. I felt we needed it in our game and at least for me and our program. It had the possibility to take some of the holy emphasis off winning. It could “release” the energy of the young people, as opposed to “harnessing” that energy. It would increase participation from traditional 8-man rotations to possibly double that number. I felt all these were positive things. Plus, I felt it would be exciting and fun. It would require super buy-in (a good thing), require super unselfishness (a good thing), and allow more people to get on the floor and in the game when the game was on the line. Increased participation would allow me to at least engage more guys, believe in more guys, and have ministry with more guys.

When we unfurled The System for the first time to an unsuspecting Illinois Wesleyan team coached by my friend Ron Rose in the Shirk Center in Bloomington. I had a prepared apology for Ron after the game. We lost 150 something to 117, and as planned, I apologized in the line shaking hands after the game. To my surprise Ron hugged me and said, “This looked good, keep it up!”. That was a great encouragement to me. I wondered if he would have said that if somehow, we would have come out victorious over the Titans. Either way, it meant a lot to me. After the game, in the locker room at IWU, I said, “I know you lost by 30-something, but I am proud of how you fought the entire game! And, you just set a record for the most points scored by an opponent in the Shirk Center.” It was a start!

Another weird side note. During President Lincoln’s tenure, Secretary of War Stanton has to order executions for deserters. I read that wives, mothers, and children would go to his office to plea for a pardon. He felt though that to keep discipline and for the larger purpose, he would not choose to give the pardon. As he families left, he would retreat to a back room and weep. I made the decision to let my guys go for 200, because in the end I thought it would be special. Some may disagree with what I did, and I have to take that responsibility and shoulder that reality. I do not want it to permanently damage relationships, and would weep about that. I hope I respond graciously to both those who agree and those that disagree with what I did.

Kewan Platt: The Myth of Second Chances

This commentary originally appeared on Ryan Scott’s personal blog: One More Thing.

The last 24 hours have seen a rare national glimpse into an oft-hidden world I inhabit: NCAA Division III basketball. I am the national columnist for – THE source for news and information about Division III basketball for over 20 years. Division III is non-scholarship athletics, so the athletes are paying tuition just like every other student. We like to call them the real “student-athletes.” Schools range from very small (400 or so in enrollment) to gigantic (40,000+) and talent varies as well. It’s the largest division in the NCAA, with 450+ members, but even so, unless you’ve got a connection, most people don’t pay attention or even know some of these schools exist.

Of course, that changes when something bad happen. Tuesday night Fitchubrg State hosted Nichols College in an otherwise ordinary early season non-conference matchup. Nichols is pretty good; Fitchburg isn’t so much. The game was pretty uneventful, except that Fitchburg was making a late run, led by the truly excellent play of transfer Kewan Platt. Platt will now forever be google connected to the elbow he delivered, seemingly unprovoked, to the face of Nichols freshman Nate Tenaglia. If you follow sports even remotely, you’ve probably seen the video somewhere.

It was pretty vicious and ugly. Platt checked to see if the ref closest to him was looking before he delivered it, but failed to notice another ref nearby (or the webstream cameras that caught the whole thing). Tenaglia was in pain, obviously, but did and does (so far) seem physically unaffected. He passed a concussion test and hit both his free throws, following the foul. The Nichols team should get immense credit for responding so coolly and appropriately in this matter. Platt got ejected from the game and has since been removed from the team and banned from campus until official processes can be executed.

It got out on Twitter first, with all the various ugliness that comes with just about anything on Twitter. From there, the general consensus was that Platt should never be allowed to play basketball again and should probably be arrested. It likely was assault, although courts have to make that distinction, which they might do — another D3 player was arrested and received a one year suspended jail sentence for punching and stomping on another player and helping to incite a riot at a game last year. Hockey has had some similar issues with violence on the ice, as well as other sports from time to time.

I am a bit baffled by the severity of the reactions, though, even after you discount the Twitter factor. There’s been time for discussion, both in person and in more civil, relational online forums, to talk about Platt’s elbow, and people still seem pretty set on this moment ruining the kid’s life.

First, I should say, I’m all for consequences, although I’ve written before on this blog about how easily we confuse consequences with punishment in this society. I don’t think shame should be a consequence, though, especially an outward, national shame. Being ashamed of one’s actions — maybe disappointing family, friends, and coaches, yes — but having national public shame heaped upon you doesn’t feel like an appropriate consequence for an action that was extremely localized.

Fitchburg State will do what they do and the school’s athletic conference will probably have a say. I hope those are fair and gracious processes not unduly influenced by the attention this has received. Schools are about shaping people and it’s really hard to do that if they people aren’t there. Every coach talks about shaping women and men of integrity and responsibility, but at the Division III level there’s almost nothing else to do. Yeah, win basketball games, but those don’t get you much on their own.

I don’t know the context, obviously. Platt could have a long history of violence and this is a final straw. Schools can’t have violent, angry people roaming around campus; that’s not good for the formation of people either. Of course, I don’t know if this is indicative of something deeper or just a one-off terrible decision. It’s not really my place to even find out.

I do think we should recognize though, even if this isn’t a pattern, that kind of violence is indicative of some kind of impulse control problem. That usually stems from some kind of mental trauma or illness, in which case shame is about the worst thing to help someone improve. Platt needs more people on his side than ever – not excusing actions, but offering help and support. I can’t see how any of the internet traffic really helps that.

Yes, my site reported on it. We got video (hopefully with more context than the six second that went around Twitter) and we did background work to understand as much as possible. It’s news; it happened. We can’t shy away from admitting difficult truth, just because it hurts somebody. That’s the balance. Recognizing there are consequences to our actions, but also refusing to dehumanize a person or define them by their actions.

We are not what we do. What we think, what we believe, what shapes and forms our understanding, those things are evident only in our actions. But we, as people, are more than just what we do. To define a person by their actions is to dehumanize. Kewan Platt is the kind of person who can elbow a guy in the face and walk away; he’ll have to live with that and deal with that and it’ll be hard – but we can’t say any of us is inherently different. We can’t say, given the same set of circumstances — from childhood to relationships to genetics to whatever — that we wouldn’t do the same thing. That’s humanity.

Now, providing a reason is very different from providing an excuse; we often get those two things confused in society as well. It’s always wrong to hit someone. I’m a firm believer in non-violence. I don’t think anything justifies what Platt did, ever. There is no excuse for that kind of thing. There are always reasons, causes. We have to be careful not to equate causes with excuses.

Immediately after the video started circulating, a lot of the comments were, “what did the white kid do to deserve that.” We justify violence as a response to violence. We do it all the time. I get that it makes sense to some people in some contexts and I’ve certainly written about violence in other posts; there’s not time for that discussion here. What those comments do, though, is recognize that actions depend on context.

We see less fighting in basketball than we used to see. We’re less tolerant, so that may have something to do with it. We’ve also got this global social media platform that amplifies the violence that exists. My freshman year of college, a friend and I drove ten minutes down the road to watch our basketball team play a local rival. During the game, an on-court altercation ensued that really exploded. Eventually people were coming out of the stands to fight players and each other; it was a pretty terrifying experience. We told the story. We moved on. I don’t think the local paper even covered it. Times change.

If both players had gotten shots in, we’d be having a very different conversation. It wouldn’t have gone viral at all. People get mad playing sports. Adrenaline is running and emotions are high. Earlier this year there were NBA suspensions from punches thrown. It’s rare, but not uncommon, even in basketball. It was a defenseless, unprovoked elbow to the face; that’s worse.

Is it this much worse, though?

We tend to justify those things we could see ourselves doing and vilify those which seem foreign to us. The gap between the two, though, isn’t as wide as we make it. In fact, it’s razor thin. A hard foul during a basketball play is a response many might deem appropriate for a perceived slight. If Platt had been tripped or terribly insulted, more people would’ve come to his defense. It’s all about perspective… and context.

I’ve never been in a frat, but I did go to college in Boston. I’ve seen some violence from drunk frat boys on a Friday night, maybe even an out-of-the-blue sucker punch or two. You hit a guy in a bar, is it even a 50/50 chance you get arrested? That’s assault, but it’s not always handled that way.

This wasn’t a racial incident, but when you’re talking about violence, crime, and punishment in our society, race does matter. I don’t want to see another young black kid get his life derailed because of a really terrible decision like this. It’s just harder to “learn” from this experience and move on if you’re black, especially if Platt ends up with a rap sheet because of it. Anger management is a skill you learn in your teens and 20s. Some kids learn it more easily or more thoroughly than others. The patience we have with people as they learn this skill doesn’t have to be dependent on race, but sometimes it is. That’s just the truth.

I don’t think this kind of behavior should ever be excused or justified or forgotten or swept under the rug. I’m just not sure what the end game is here for all the shame? Do we feel good about someone being “worse” than us? That says more about our own guilt and inadequacy than it does about Kewan Platt. It does feel good. I’m sure if you went all the way back in my Twitter feed you’d see some shaming I’m not proud of, but I’d like to think I’ve learned over time. I’d like to think we all can. I want to believe we can be better, more caring, more compassionate and understanding people than we were yesterday. I’d like to think that of Kewan Platt, too.

Violence creates two victims. Always. It shapes the life of the victim in ways they don’t deserve or ask for. It also shapes the life of the offender, regardless of the consequences. In both cases, the only healthy response to violence is knowing, believing that we are more than what we experience, more than what the violence tells us we are.

If we’re willing to call Kewan Platt “trash” or “worthless” we might as well just wish him dead, because we’re writing off his future. For so many people, the future is determined by the mistakes they make. It doesn’t have to be that way for any of us. We don’t hear it enough, but we can be something different than what we’ve been. We have to be, or there’s no point to life.

Nate Tenaglia is really the only one with standing to address Kewan Platt. Yeah, his coach and school and family and friends have a responsibility to address what he did; those actions come with consequences. But they, like us, really have one choice: to do what’s going to help him be more than he was Tuesday night. Shame doesn’t do that, no matter how much it feels like the right way. We’ve all had enough experience with shame to know that life itself is just a succession of second chances.


Old gym series: Doremus Gymnasium, W&L

On my recent, and presumably final, trip to Salem for the Division III men’s basketball Final Four, I stopped off I-81 and did some multi-tasking, picking up an interview for the Around the Nation Podcast. In chatting with both football coach Garrett LeRose and sports information director Brian Laubscher, it was mentioned that the “newer” half of the athletic building, Warner Center was built in 1972 and the office portion of the building is in desperate need of rehab.

The historic side of the building, Doremus Gymnasium, is another lovely example of early-20th century gymnasium architecture. This is the oldest of the old gyms I’ve had a chance to write about, as it was built in 1915.

The floor was recently refinished and is in really good shape. Robert P. Doremus came to campus at W&L, the story goes, in 1913, unannounced. Doremus was looking to bestow money on a Southern school in honor of his mother and was so struck by the student’s courtesy that he made his decision without even looking at the University of Virginia. This facility was built at a cost of between $80,000 and $100,000, and Doremus’ entire estate was given to W&L 21 years later, a gift of $1.5 million.

I really enjoy these looks back in time, picturing students from the 1920s all the way up through the 1960s and 1970s crammed into a tiny space. While I sometimes mourn what we’ve lost in small college athletics, I certainly recognize the need to play in spacious areas with room for a couple thousand fans, to have practice space for multiple sports, to have enough locker rooms to host weekend tournaments, and to have office space for 20-some sports.

Meanwhile, though, I’m going to pass on jogging on this wooden track suspended above the Doremus Gymnasium floor. No thanks.

Old gym series: Loras Fieldhouse

I havent written a blog post about old gymnasiums in years, but I still enjoy walking through them and seek them out when I am on Division III campuses.

The Loras Fieldhouse still stands, overlooking the Rock Bowl, home to the school’s field sports in Dubuque, Iowa. This gym was in use when started and it remained in use until 2007, when it was replaced by a sparkling athletics center elsewhere on campus. But it’s hard to picture college basketball being played here.

The cement balcony rings the playing surface. A 3-pointer from the corner was legimitately in danger of hitting the underside of the balcony, which juts pretty far out.

Partially neglected by deferred maintenance, the building is currently set up to host a band or orchestra concert. Football coach Steve Helminiak and his assistant, Jake Olsen, still have offices here, as does Sports Information Director Jim Naprstek. The banners reflect the time in which it was used — a women’s basketball banner celebrates the team’s NCAA Tournament trip in 2003. The banners for each team in the Iowa Conference do not include recent addition Nebraska Wesleyan, although they do reflect the departure of Upper Iowa and William Penn more than 15 years ago.

Seating is minimal. The listed capacity of 1,100 is hard to fathom. A fire marshall would likely have a fit over anything more than about 700 people here. And some of those would be standing.

But for every flashy new building that we celebrate in Division III, somewhere there is, or was, a building like this. Converted into office space. Or an architecture studio. Or classrooms. Or recreational space.

This one, which opened in 1924, still stands.


For now, the banners still hang at UWSP

The investigation into the UW-Stevens Point men’s basketball program has dragged on much longer than anticipated, longer than we were told to expect.

This is almost certainly a bad sign — not just for the obvious reasons, either.

It had been expected that the NCAA investigation into recent Pointers’ seasons and preseason practices would wrap up by April, perhaps May. The fact that no resolution has been announced means that this cloud of suspicion, this uncertainty, continues to hang over the program, and did so through the recruiting season. But secondly, the timeline suggests that the school and the NCAA are trying to come to an agreement over what the punishment will be.

In the interim, the athletic department suspended coach Bob Semling for the final 13 games of the season, and kept the program out of the WIAC tournament. (The Pointers finished 14-10, 8-6 in the WIAC and would have otherwise been the fourth seed in the conference tournament.) This was the second self-imposed punishment for the same violation. .

Semling spoke recently with Alexis Geffen, of Stevens Point’s WAOW 9, saying: “The final report’s going to go through the committee … by the end of July. I would hope by the end of August, start of September, start of school, that we would find out that this is resolved.”

Semling maintains that for the type of violation that has been described, suspending the coach is about as far as one would go. But with the same NCAA committee on infractions having stripped Thomas More of a national title in Division III women’s basketball less than a year ago, it’s fair to consider that a Pointers’ national title could be at stake here as well. And if suspending the coach is sufficient, it’s hard to understand what is holding this process up.

The NCAA committee could instead call for a show-cause ruling on Semling. This would require any school employing him to go through significant procedures and paperwork with the NCAA, all but ending his coaching career.

For now, four banners hang in Quandt Fieldhouse and four national championship trophies still sit in the trophy case outside the entrance. Semling’s name is still on the door of the men’s basketball head coach office. I was there at the end of May to confirm these were true. But for how long those all remain true, it’s hard to know.