Johnny America

 

Ten Mem­o­ries of John Wood­en (RIP coach)

by

The first time he took me to a strip club, as I was about to put a dol­lar bill in­to the dancer’s G‑string, he grabbed my wrist, re­moved my dol­lar and slipped in­to my hand a bill of sim­i­lar size and shape that turned out to be worth­less Burmese cur­ren­cy. In that wiz­ened voice of his, he ex­plained the dancers could nev­er tell the dif­fer­ence in the strobe lights. He kept my dollar.
 
He used to come to our dorm rooms late at night, smelling of liquor, and tell us sto­ries about his child­hood in In­di­ana and how he in­vent­ed bas­ket­ball. When we would voice skep­ti­cism about the ac­cu­ra­cy of his ac­count, he would shout at us, chal­lenge us to wres­tle him, then he would use our tele­phone to make long dis­tance calls to his old girlfriends.
 
Our first prac­tice, he gath­ered us around him and showed us his Pyra­mid of Suc­cess. Read the stone on the bot­tom left: “Join mail or­der record clubs for the cheap in­tro­duc­to­ry of­fer, pay the pen­ny mem­ber­ship fee, then can­cel your membership”.
 
Coach had these spe­cial­ly de­signed pants that had holes in the seat. He used to place false teeth in his but­tocks and col­lect loose change from so­fas while sit­ting and talk­ing to par­ents on re­cruit­ing trips. He on­ly had to af­fect a slight bob, up and down, up and down.
 
Dur­ing a good­will tour of the So­vi­et Union in the late 60s, Coach was se­duced by a male pros­ti­tute hired by the KGB. He told us dur­ing half­time of a game against Moscow Dy­namo that he had fall­en in love with Yuri, he was go­ing to de­fect and want­ed to take the whole team with him. He on­ly re­lent­ed when Gail Goodrich ex­plained that he had al­so had sex with Yuri. We went out and beat Moscow Dy­namo 68 – 52 but our hearts just weren’t in the game.
 
At one point, when a boost­er pro­posed buy­ing every play­er on the team a new Chevro­let, Coach told him no, that wasn’t right, and in­stead had the boost­er buy him eleven new Chevrolets.
 
When Smokey and the Ban­dit II came out, Coach can­celed prac­tice so we could all go see it the day it opened. He had slept overnight on the side­walk out­side the the­ater to be sure he was first in line, and to se­cure our tick­ets to the first show.
 
He tried to sue the Egypt­ian gov­ern­ment for us­ing his Pyra­mid con­cept in their own his­tor­i­cal architecture.
 
He re­fused to play any Flori­da teams in bas­ket­ball, be­cause he claimed the risks of fly­ing near the Bermu­da Tri­an­gle were too great. It turned out there were three pa­ter­ni­ty suits against him, all of them in Tal­la­has­see, and Gainesville.
 
At the start of every sea­son, he asked each play­er to give him a $20 bill, which he had us sign be­fore he put the bills in a sock that he kept in his desk. He said if we won the NCAA cham­pi­onship, we could have the mon­ey back. But when we won the ti­tle, the mon­ey had mys­te­ri­ous­ly “van­ished”. He would make a big show of look­ing around in his desk and un­der his desk and around his of­fice, but it was ob­vi­ous he had al­ready spent the mon­ey on new false teeth.

Filed under Fiction on June 11th, 2010

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