The meeting was about to begin in Anaheim, and I was extraordinarily nervous.
Sure, I’m usually dealing with “performance anxiety” before every speech, but this situation was even more dramatic. For some unbelievable reason, the organization I was addressing decided they wanted two keynote speakers during the same session.
They had selected me…and legendary UCLA basketball coach John Wooden.
Having idolized the “Wizard of Westwood” — as he was called for decades — for almost my entire life, I could not even fathom this hero of mine was someone I was going to meet…hear speak…and have him hear my presentation…all at once. Frankly, I avoided him before my talk as I wanted to maintain my concentration.
I gave my talk, and proceeded to take a seat in the front row to hear the master. He spent the first few minutes of his presentation talking about how much he had enjoyed mine. He oozed humility…the authentic kind we can all recognize in an instant, not the type that is obviously self-serving and patronizing.
He revealed his “Pyramid of Success” and the thinking behind it. He shared some stories about Bill Walton, Lew Alcindor (now Kareem Abdul-Jabbar), and his other “students”…I noted he seldom called them “players.” It was obvious he viewed the term to describe himself as “teacher” more than “coach.”
He was wise…brilliant…sincere…funny…real…inspirational…all at once.
After the session was over, he was willing to autograph anything for anyone willing to wait in line. I joined the queue, and when I arrived at the front, he told me to step aside and wait until the line was finished, as he wanted to talk with me.
After he had signed every autograph, Wooden asked me to sit beside him in the now-empty auditorium, so he could more clearly hear me. He asked about my life back in Indiana — as he had been raised not too far from my hometown.
For a few moments, it was just a kid from Crothersville (me) talking with a guy from Martinsville (him) about all things growing up Hoosier.
He shared a couple of stories about his alma mater, Purdue — and opined that a man who played for mine, Franklin College, named “Fuzzy” Vandiver was about the best basketball player he had ever seen.
Wanting to be sensitive of his time, I offered to depart. He firmly grabbed my arm and refused. Of the multitude of celebrities I have been fortunate to encounter, John Wooden is the only one who refused to conclude a conversation until he had learned more about me, my life, my business, my goals for the future.
The Wizard of Westwood departed this world tonight. He was the same age and passed in the same year as my Grandmother — they were both 99.
Must have been something about folks from southern Indiana from those days. The integrity and kindness…the strength and sensitivity…they displayed as an integral aspect of their character lasted a lifetime.
The world remembers a coach who won championships and revolutionized a game. I will bet all who met him — and I can’t even imagine what it must have been like to play the game for him — are fondly remembering a gentle man who genuinely did something even more important than being victorious at a sport: He cared about those who crossed his path.
We should all hope to leave such a fond legacy.
The Wizard…
June 4, 2010 · 10 comments
The meeting was about to begin in Anaheim, and I was extraordinarily nervous.
Sure, I’m usually dealing with “performance anxiety” before every speech, but this situation was even more dramatic. For some unbelievable reason, the organization I was addressing decided they wanted two keynote speakers during the same session.
Having idolized the “Wizard of Westwood” — as he was called for decades — for almost my entire life, I could not even fathom this hero of mine was someone I was going to meet…hear speak…and have him hear my presentation…all at once. Frankly, I avoided him before my talk as I wanted to maintain my concentration.
I gave my talk, and proceeded to take a seat in the front row to hear the master. He spent the first few minutes of his presentation talking about how much he had enjoyed mine. He oozed humility…the authentic kind we can all recognize in an instant, not the type that is obviously self-serving and patronizing.
He revealed his “Pyramid of Success” and the thinking behind it. He shared some stories about Bill Walton, Lew Alcindor (now Kareem Abdul-Jabbar), and his other “students”…I noted he seldom called them “players.” It was obvious he viewed the term to describe himself as “teacher” more than “coach.”
After the session was over, he was willing to autograph anything for anyone willing to wait in line. I joined the queue, and when I arrived at the front, he told me to step aside and wait until the line was finished, as he wanted to talk with me.
After he had signed every autograph, Wooden asked me to sit beside him in the now-empty auditorium, so he could more clearly hear me. He asked about my life back in Indiana — as he had been raised not too far from my hometown.
He shared a couple of stories about his alma mater, Purdue — and opined that a man who played for mine, Franklin College, named “Fuzzy” Vandiver was about the best basketball player he had ever seen.
Wanting to be sensitive of his time, I offered to depart. He firmly grabbed my arm and refused. Of the multitude of celebrities I have been fortunate to encounter, John Wooden is the only one who refused to conclude a conversation until he had learned more about me, my life, my business, my goals for the future.
The Wizard of Westwood departed this world tonight. He was the same age and passed in the same year as my Grandmother — they were both 99.
The world remembers a coach who won championships and revolutionized a game. I will bet all who met him — and I can’t even imagine what it must have been like to play the game for him — are fondly remembering a gentle man who genuinely did something even more important than being victorious at a sport: He cared about those who crossed his path.