I love the people in my life who have been hard on me

It's ironic that Kansas State coach Frank Martin, while known for his "intimidating stature" and "The Stare," is also called "Frank" by his players.

According to one KSU player, "Frank is the type coach who likes to be up close and personal with his players. He has an open-door policy and he relates to us really well. But on the floor, his love of the game makes him really intense."

This article contends that the Wildcats "share a reputation with Doc Sadler’s bunch at Nebraska as the hardest-working teams in show business. And Martin is doing it with a relatively young bunch also minus last year’s senior point guard."

"I don’t need people to call me by a certain name to make myself feel empowered," says Coach Martin, whose team has won six straight. "I’m the head basketball coach and I make the decisions. The players do what I ask them to do, they play. If they don’t, they don’t. I love the people in my life who have been hard on me rather than the people who let me get away with what I wanted to do. That’s who I am. I don’t worry about that nonsense because I feel comfortable with our locker room."

You can't coach well and lose and still feel good

Thought this was a wonderful excerpt from the late Jim Valvano's autobiography.

[Here's Jimmy V's bio.]

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When I switched from playing to coaching at Rutgers, it didn't take more than a few losses to figure out the difference. Let's get that one out of the way real fast. There is positively no comparison between being a player and a coach. The animals aren't even in the same kingdom. Forget it.

Playing the game is easy. Playing is putting your sneakers on and answering intros and running and jumping and shouting and getting it on. If you play great, you feel great. If you win, you feel great. If you lose, you still feel great. Oh, you might put on a long face after a defeat, but if you've had a good game individually, it doesn't bother you that much.

As a player, the way you play affects how you feel more than winning or losing. That's why on a losing-team bus I've never insisted players show remorse and don't talk. Don't give me that silent, sad act.

Fans take the losses harder than players. I don't care what anybody says; the player who goes for 40 big ones in a one-point loss and says he's crushed -- hey, take that outta here. And, even if you win big, the players who didn't get into the game aren't going to be happy, either.

As a coach, it's a different mind-set. You can't coach well and lose and still feel good. You win, you lose. The preparation in coaching is a hundredfold greater than in playing. I didn't get nervous before I played. Playing was an absolute joy. Coaching was like giving birth. It's labor, it's work.

The thing is -- unlike being a player -- as a coach, that game is yours, win or lose, comedy or tragedy. It belongs to you. In that way, a coach is an artist. When you make a beautiful canvas, you're proud. When you don't, all the work and energy and effort is for naught. You've failed. You feel that failure deep inside your every bone.

Playing and coaching have so little to do with each other that it should come as no suprise how few players enjoy coaching when they've finished their active careers. They think they'll like it because they want to stay "close to the game." Then they find out it isn't a game anymore.

It's a total business at this level. On the one hand, it's a discipline; on the other, it's art. But it's a discipline first, and a lot of people don't like that: the hours in the tape room, the schmoozing with the media, the practices, the road trips, the X's and O's. What they see on TV is the nice suits and the guys in control; immediately they want to turn in their uniforms and move down to the business end of the pine.

Striking a balance between control and freedom

If you haven't checked the Ivy League standings lately, you might be surprised to see Princeton back on top.

Tigers coach Sydney Johnson, who returned to his alma mater two years ago after working as an assistant under John Thompson III at Georgetown, is rebuilding the program, which has seen its wins drop from 20 in 2003-04, to 15, 12, 11, and, finally, 6, the last four years, respectively.

Former Princeton coach Joe Scott, whom the 34-year-old Coach Johnson replaced following the 2006-07 season, is quick to accept full responsibility for the program's decline.

"I was a bad coach," said Coach Scott, who also played at Princeton and served as an assistant for eight seasons under Pete Carril. "If you want to blame the downfall (on me), then go ahead and do that. That's fine. That's what happens in sports. I did a bad job coaching there for three years. Wrong place, wrong time, wrong person. That's how it goes in life."

Coach Scott, the former head coach at Air Force and now the head coach at Denver, "inherited an Ivy League championship team from John Thompson III, who left for Georgetown, that featured four returning starters in 2004-05. Scott's demanding, militaristic style created friction with players and the team finished with a losing Ivy record for the first time in school history."

According to this article, Coach Johnson's "first order of business was simple: understand his players."

"Some kids respond very well to being pushed hard. Some kids don't. So I don't think you should say across the board, 'I'm going to scream and yell at every guy.' Because some guys are going to pull back. ... So, I took time to figure out who I was coaching and went from there."

The article explains how Coach Johnson "adapted to his players' strengths and struck a balance between control and freedom. He retained the framework of the Princeton offense, but incorporated specific plays to maximize the individual talent of his players."

"All players want some freedom," said junior guard Marcus Schroeder. "Coach Scott wanted the offense to be run more precisely and let the offense get a shot rather than let the players get a shot. Coach Johnson is more improvisational, letting the abilities of the individual players do it."

Little things add up

Just as Mike Singletary did in SFO when he took over as head coach of the 49ers mid-season, new Grizzlies coach Lionel Hollins is focusing on "chemistry, defense and discipline" as the foundation for turning things around in Memphis.

An article in today's Memphis paper describes Coach Hollins' coaching style as "old-school yet flexible" and notes how he's "been a hard taskmaster in practices and a strict disciplinarian off the court."

Coach Hollins "holds players accountable in every aspect of their jobs," asking Darius Miles to remove his earrings before Miles went out for "a pre-game workout." Players must also "wear team-issued practice shorts and tops instead of the random gear that had been acceptable."

"These little things add up," Memphis GM Chris Wallace said. "Lionel is a stickler for practicing hard and having a team in excellent physical condition. He's working diligently on those two fronts. We're practicing hard, and we're practicing longer. There's a payoff on this. Plus, I'll say Lionel has a rare ability to relate to players. You have to be firm but you can't be firm in a high school and military way. You can't be overbearing in your firmness on this level. You have to be firm, but at the same time communicate with your players and have a different relationship off the court. You can't be a robot and a total dictator. He has that rare ability to walk down the middle of the street. He knows when to back off. To me that's the essence of NBA coaching."

According to Wallace, Coach Hollins has had an immediate impact on Rudy Gay, who "is starting to attack the basket more."

"He's like a baseball pitcher who can't just throw fastballs," says Wallce. "He's got to throw knuckleballs, curves and sliders. He's got to show a wide-variety of skills, and he's becoming more efficient. We're making progress as a team and our players are making progress individually."

When it comes to discipline, it's more important to be right than consistent

Brad Adler's book "Coaching Matters" has a good passage with Bill Parcells and his approach to consistency as it relates to discipline.

It describes Coach Parcells' instense "desire for and commitment to consistency."

According to the author, "he required it in every aspect of the game. You had to practice consistently, play consistently, even rehab consistently. Indeed, as coach of the team, Parcells believed that even he had to be consistent, at least with most aspects of his leadership routine."

"The only thing you don't have to be consistent in is your discipline," Coach Parcells said of his coaching methods. "I know that sounds crazy, but what's important with discipline is to be right. I don't want to be consistent there, I want to be right."

It reminds me of a story a coaching friend told me recently about a high school coach who'd led his team to the state title game.

The night before the game, a group of his players had gone to dinner. On their way back to the team's hotel, one player -- the team's star player and a good kid who'd never had any problems -- realized that he'd left his wallet on the table, and had to run back to the restaurant to get it. He made it back to the hotel a few minutes later, but missed curfew.

According to the coach's rules, any player who missed curfew couldn't play in the next game. So, feeling like he had to be consistent with his discipline, the coach benched him. At the next day's championship game, with his best player in street clothes, they lost the game.

I've searched far and wide for this story online and haven't been able to find it. Regardless, even as a parable, it supports Coach Parcells' point about how when it comes to discipline, it's better to be right than consistent.

Discipline means learning everything that helps us achieve maximum performance

In his 2002 autobiography "Knight: My Story," Bobby Knight writes about how he'd bring in guests to speak with his teams. [The following is an excerpt from the book.]

"I've always had people come in and talk to my teams. I wanted them to hear from successful people their thoughts on why they were successful and what it took to be successful."

"One of my smartest invitations was to Janos Starker (pictured below), acclaimed worldwide as a cellist and a professor in Indiana's School of Music. What would a man critics around the world have called 'the king of cellists' have to say that young basketball players would benefit from?

Here's what:

I started playing the cello when I was six. At that time, I didn't choose it. My mother did. Eventually, three years later, I realized that, first of all, it was something that I loved. I realized that I couldn't go through a day without thinking, doing, making music.

This is one of the basic principles that I state: that anyone who can go through a day without wanting to be with music or hear music or make music is not supposed to be a musician.

I believe that to be valid for every single profession. If you can go through a day without wanting it or thinking it or living with professionalism in the profession that you are in, you are not supposed to be in it.

Discipline means concentration, and concentration means discipline. The practice is just as important as the moment when you are in front of everybody.

Whether the audience cheers or not, it does not mean anything. If I know that I have done well, whether they liked it or not is not important. Did I do the best I could under the circumstances, with total concentration and dedication to the cause at the moment?

Discipline means to learn everything that helps us to the maximum performance.

Where is the parallel, the musical parallel to basketball?

For a lifetime, we develop skills, so as to find the proper note. That's why you train for a lifetime, to find the basket.

As a cellist, when you are six years of age, eight, twelve, you have to practice three or four hours a day just to obtain the basic skills and the strength in your hand and your arms and muscles, because you do need considerable muscle power. We are hitting strings with the fingers sometimes at the speed of two thousand notes per minute.

There are people who can shoot successfully eight times out of ten in practice. To improve on the percentage, you must consciously know what part of the body functions how. This requires the thinking process. It doesn't mean just that you are following the instructions of the coach. Eventually, you must use your own brain: Why does it work? Why is the coach right?

Until the individual discovers it for himself, it is never going to result in consistency.

The word consistency is key. You have to do everything that we mean when we speak of professionalism. I'm not talking about being paid for something. The professional is the one who is consistent at a higher level than anybody else."

A sign that you're focused and concentrating

Why is Ball State the only undefeated team in the nation?

Lots of reasons, but one key is that the Cardinals don't make "dumb penalties."

BSU is the least penalized team in the country, averaging less three than penalties per game.

The second-least penalized team? Penn State with 3.2 flags per game.

According to BSU's center, "It shows we're focused and concentrating."

It also demonstrates how disciplined coach Brady Hoke's team is. Says Coach Hoke:

"When you play smart and you don't have the bad penalties - jumping offsides, motion, formation penalties, those pre-snap penalties - I think that's a big part of [success]."

Treating guys like strong men who are accountable for what they do

John Harbaugh has guided the Ravens to a 6-4 record through the first 10 games of his first year as a head coach. He credits much of the team's improvement to a strong emphasis on discipline and accountability:

"We talk about treating guys like men—strong men who are accountable for what they do. It's our responsibility as coaches to be man enough to uphold that accountability. It loses its impact if the coach is not willing to uphold the accountability for everybody. I think guys appreciate it when they see the program run that way because they know it's the right way and that's the most effective way to do it.

We are installing the program we were hired to install and one that I believe in. I don't know that it's more or less discipline. It's just what I was raised in, what I believe in. It's the only way I know how to do it. If there is any other way to do it, I wouldn't be interested in it."

Emphasizing "disciplined creativity"

Saw a note in the LA Times the other day about UCLA coach Ben Howland's disapproval of jump passes.

According to the story, during UCLA's only open practice of the season last week, "more than once Howland yelled about such passes."

Coach Howland has made it clear to his players that he does not appreciate "passes made from the air." As one player put it: "He likes the jump stop."

What Coach Howland is stressing is discipline and fundamentals. That's been the hardest thing for my 12-year-old son, who's watched so many NBA games that he wants to emulate the Pro style of ball skills.

His CYO coach stresses good fundamentals. His AAU coach stresses one-handed passes off the dribble. His CYO coach makes the kids run when they don't throw a two-handed pass. Both coaches are right.

My Dad had me do things like throw behind-the-back passes against a tennis wall to practice those. He also made video for me at a young age of Pistol Pete, Earl the Pearl, and Ernie DiGregorio, believing that players needed to have "creative basketball minds."

He stressed discipline, but saw the importance of having the ability to create and master many skills.

Confidence is born of demonstrated ability

Going back through Bill Parcells' book "Finding a Way to Win" last night and came across some really great stuff:

On preferential treatment for great players: "Great players are special simply because they do more for the team than the rest. Their greatness may buy them preferential treatment in some areas. On the field, they may toss the book aside at times and play on instinct. They've earned the right to take changes -- to be flexible -- because they've proved that their judgment is sound. Consistency is overrated. A leader is obligated not to be consistent, but to be right -- to do what's best for the organization."

On his personal interviews with potential draft picks: "A half hour of candid conversation tells more about people than a mountain of statistics. For starters, I might ask them to name three or four of the most important things in their life. Family or religion often top the list, which is fine; football doesn't have to be number one. But football better be in there somewhere or I'll deduce that this guy isn't all that interested in the job."

On focusing on a player's strengths rather than his weaknesses: "It's easy to downgrade people by dwelling on their weaknesses. It's harder to look at them with fresh eyes and identify their strengths -- and how they can help the organization to function."

On adapting to technology: "If the competition has laptop computers and you're still using yellow legal pads, it won't matter how long and hard you work -- they're going to pass you."

On what will destroy a team: "Three things can ruin any organization. One is your competition. The second is public perception, as shaped by the media. If you're always seen in a negative light, your group's morale will likely go under -- along with your performance. The third factor? Division from within -- and this is the greatest threat, hands down. The first task of leadership is to promote -- and enforce -- collective loyalty, also known as teamwork."

On how a head coach differs from others in the organization: "The head coach is unique in two ways. He's the one person who sees the big picture down on the field. And he's the only one whose fate is totally wrapped up in winning. If the team loses too often, the head coach will be gone."

On how performance impacts confidence: "Confidence is only born of demonstrated ability. A team's collective mental state is ruled by the psychology of results. In other words, past outcomes dramatically affect the group's attitude going into the next game. A team teaches itself what it is on the field, in action."

Remembering that what happens in the locker room stays in the locker room: "Washing dirty laundry in public is probably the quickest way to divide your team from within. The only honest meetings are private meetings. Our [weekly team meetings] are exclusive. Only players and coaches are invited, and our privacy is sacred; even our owner is barred. Secretaries, trainers, equipment men, the PR director -- one of them sets foot in that room. I know how gossip turns into rumors, and rumors into controversies, and we've already got enough of those."

On the coach's role as a teacher: "Be a teacher, not a drill sergeant. I might overcoach a player, might discuss things a little longer than necessary, but he'll know that I appreciate his problem, and that I'll do my best to help solve it. To teach, you have to listen as well as talk. When we experiment with something new in practice, our players' feedback is invaluable, especially from veterans who are honest about any problems they're having."

On what sets disciplined people apart: "(1) The capacity to get past distractions. (2) The willingness to condition mind and body for the task at hand. (3) The ability to keep your poise when those around you are losing theirs.