On UCLA Basketball and John Wooden

My life has been filled with stories about John Wooden.

For most of my childhood and especially during my years in college, NCAA basketball was a major interest. And why not? My parent’s last year at UCLA was John Wooden’s first year as head basketball coach.

And my first year at UCLA was John Wooden’s final year as the head basketball coach of a fantastic roster of Bruins.

Someone in my family went to all the home games for years.

My parents had season tickets way up in the nosebleed section of Pauley Pavilion, but they didn’t care as long as they got to attend the game.

For several years when I was young, I heard stories of the amazing skills of a guy whose name I heard as “Al Cindor.”

I remember how surprised I was to learn his real first name was Lew and Alcindor was his last name.

None of that lasted very long, of course, because he soon changed it to Kareem Abdul Jabbar. But we didn’t care. We thought him a fantastic basketball player (and in later years a generous UCLA alum).

My parents only could afford two seats, but  while they came home waxing lyrical about the likes of  Shackleford and Walton, most of their admiration centered on one comparatively diminutive man: John Wooden.

As a UCLA student

I watched him coach that final year from either the student section (then at center court), or the clarinet section of the UCLA band. He was organized, efficient, intense–but you never saw him unpleasant.

Wooden mastered the court of public opinion and graced the cover of Sports Illustrated during the 1974-1975 season; admired by all, the coach’s coach of the basketball world.

John Wooden’s faith

After the hoopla died down, he gave a personal talk in a UCLA classroom about something he considered even more important than any game.

It was one of my first assignments for The UCLA Daily Bruin, and I sat up close to see him well.

John Wooden pulled a silver cross from his pocket, something he always carried, and talked about his faith. According to my May 1, 1975 article, Wooden noted,

“Sharing your faith with others is the most important thing you can do since you can’t have peace until you’ve found your Master. When the valleys are deep and the mountains high, it’s easier with the Master.”

He went to explain about the silver cross, given to him by a South Bend, Indiana minister in 1942:

“I keep this cross in hand in times of stress, at basketball games and times of speaking.”

He smiled as he spoke, addressing a crowd who had come to participate in a communion service led by a local pastor.

Given the nature of the gathering, Wooden finished his talk by looking at the crowd with humble approval.  “I’m glad you’re here today, glad because of a purpose you have, a purpose much more important than even basketball.”

John Wooden died just shy of his 100th birthday in 2010.

I–and everyone else on the alumni list–got an email from the UCLA Chancellor announcing Coach’s death. It’s the only time the Chancellor has ever contacted me!

I read the accolades, watched the videos, enjoyed seeing clips of his life this year during televised UCLA basketball games. I felt proud of him all over again.

A great coach, yes, but I’ll never forget John Wooden on that day so long ago, rubbing the cross from his pocket and smiling at his brothers and sisters in Christ.

I can’t help reflecting that he was one greeted with those blessed words: “well done, good and faithful servant. Enter into your rest.”

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Coach John Wooden of UCLA on his faith. Click to Tweet

Coach John Wooden’s faith and a silver cross. Click to Tweet