Written by Bart Doan at Bloguin
I try not to get overly personal in columns, but this time I might. A few years ago as a coach, there was a game I desperately wanted to win. The desire to win was internalized. There’s a long backstory, but I wanted it for our players, my family, the community that had embraced us as coaches. I didn’t sleep even one hour the night before it.
The game was a powder keg. Players were kicked out. A coach was kicked out. Fans were kicked out. At midcourt, the game was threatened to be cancelled unless folks could gather themselves.
Long story short: In the end, I made a bad call, electing to tell my team to hold the ball and get a last shot, good or bad, because it was tied and overtime was the worst case scenario. One of my players had an open three and I yelled, “don’t shoot!” because there was too much time left if he missed.
The ball was turned over a few seconds later, and we lost on a half-court shot. I’ll probably have nightmares about it until I die, watching the looks on the faces of family members in the moment they’re realizing they’re destroyed… and knowing it’s my fault.
In other words, Jim Harbaugh, I feel you, though not in front of as many people.
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