09/03/2026
I had dinner with my old coach (Dad) tonight. We got to talk a little hoops, and we talked a little prayer, too—which, if you know my coach (Dad), should come as no surprise.
On the drive home, Power 92 was working its magic when the old Blackfoot song “Train, Train” came on. We used to run out to that song. I was enjoying the harmonica solo, letting an old sound fill the minivan, when the song picked up and that lead singer hollered, “Here it comes.”
And suddenly, my entire body went cold. The hairs on my arms and legs tingled. For a few seconds, I wasn't driving home in 2026. I was back in the old gym, another season, another version of myself—young men beside me, sneakers squeaking, adrenaline rising, the whole world narrowing down to the sound of a song and the promise of what was about to happen.
It struck me how strange and wonderful memory is. We think we are simply living our lives, one practice, one game, one bus ride at a time. But somewhere along the way, those moments are being stored away in us. And then, thirty years later, a harmonica can play three notes and a voice can yell, “Here it comes,” and suddenly the past isn't past at all. It is right there in your chest.
That is what I want to give every player who comes through our program at Scotts Hill.
Not just wins. Not just points or championships or banners on a wall. Memories.
Memories so deeply planted that thirty years from now, something completely ordinary—a song on the radio, the smell of a gym, the squeak of a shoe—can bring it all rushing back and send chills through their arms.
I hope every one of our kids will one day fully understand and relate to the quote:
“How can a game have such an effect on a man’s soul? The way I see it, how can it not?”
Can’t wait to get back in the gym tomorrow.
East bound and down! 🏀
