Post by dex on Feb 12, 2018 22:38:31 GMT -5
All The Best Tim
By Bill Reynolds
Journal Sports Columnist
Posted at 9:24 PM
SMITHFIELD — This is about a journey that began a long time ago, back in a very different era, back when one of the spawning grounds of college basketball in the Northeast was a summer camp in the Poconos run by a man who was as New York as an egg cream, whom everyone called “Garf.″
His real name was Howard Garfinkel, and he was a kingmaker back then, a guy with black glasses and slicked-back black hair who always looked as if he had just walked off the set of “Guys and Dolls.″
His camp was called “Five-Star″ back then, and it was one of the places where many of the young guys who wanted to get into the game came to work as counselors.
One of them was Tim O’Shea, who was from Wayland (Mass.) High School, had played at Boston College, and had made no secret of his desire to get into college coaching, someone Garfinkel called “Thunder,″ in honor of some old horse he had once won a bet on.
“It was the summer of 1984 and I had no idea what I was doing,″ O’Shea said. “I wanted to get into coaching, but I had no idea how to go about it. And one day at the camp Garf says to me. ‘Thunder, you’re going to be the associate coach at URI. Go see Brendan [Malone.]’ And that’s how it got done.″
Inside basketball.
This was the beginning of O’Shea’s coaching journey, this long career that came to a virtual end on Monday afternoon in a press conference at Bryant.
By the time I got to know him at URI, it was apparent few people understood the nuances and culture of the college basketball world any better than O’Shea. I’ve always found him to be incredibly perceptive about the realities of college basketball, and the pressures that come with it.
The resumé says he’s coached Bryant for the last decade, shepherding the Bulldogs in their move from Division II into Division I, a move that’s not going to look good on any coach’s record. But resumés only tell you the facts — the hits, runs and errors of the game, who won and who lost. They don’t tell you about the need to win, over and over. They don’t tell you about the pressure that follows you around like an afternoon shadow even when you’re in a situation where it’s all but impossible to win.
That’s the most important part, of course. Resumés don’t tell you about the situation a coach was put into, nothing about the nuance. They just give you the facts, as cold as a police blotter. They give you the facts, not the story.
Monday afternoon was the symbolic goodbye, O’Shea announcing that this will be his last season as the Bryant coach.
And it was not without a certain emotion.
For being a coach never was just a job for O’Shea. Coaching always was a lover, something he took home every night, right there with his wife and daughter. You could see that Monday afternoon at Bryant in the small ceremony. In all the important ways O’Shea was not just saying goodbye to his job, he was also saying goodbye to a piece of his heart, as if there have been too many sleepless nights, too many migraines, too many nights with too many games fastbreaking through his head, too many nights when he’d lie there in the dark and tell himself that he had a great run for a long time and why did he keep doing this?
Eventually he didn’t have enough answers, the realization that the game stops for everyone, ready or not. The realization that it was time, like it or not.
So on Monday afternoon he said it was over.
All the long bus rides on cold winter nights.
All the endless recruiting trips.
All those times during games when his stomach seemed to be in his mouth.
All the things people never see.
Tim O’Shea, one of the real good guys in this basketball world around here, has said he’s had enough.
Bang the drum slowly.
By Bill Reynolds
Journal Sports Columnist
Posted at 9:24 PM
SMITHFIELD — This is about a journey that began a long time ago, back in a very different era, back when one of the spawning grounds of college basketball in the Northeast was a summer camp in the Poconos run by a man who was as New York as an egg cream, whom everyone called “Garf.″
His real name was Howard Garfinkel, and he was a kingmaker back then, a guy with black glasses and slicked-back black hair who always looked as if he had just walked off the set of “Guys and Dolls.″
His camp was called “Five-Star″ back then, and it was one of the places where many of the young guys who wanted to get into the game came to work as counselors.
One of them was Tim O’Shea, who was from Wayland (Mass.) High School, had played at Boston College, and had made no secret of his desire to get into college coaching, someone Garfinkel called “Thunder,″ in honor of some old horse he had once won a bet on.
“It was the summer of 1984 and I had no idea what I was doing,″ O’Shea said. “I wanted to get into coaching, but I had no idea how to go about it. And one day at the camp Garf says to me. ‘Thunder, you’re going to be the associate coach at URI. Go see Brendan [Malone.]’ And that’s how it got done.″
Inside basketball.
This was the beginning of O’Shea’s coaching journey, this long career that came to a virtual end on Monday afternoon in a press conference at Bryant.
By the time I got to know him at URI, it was apparent few people understood the nuances and culture of the college basketball world any better than O’Shea. I’ve always found him to be incredibly perceptive about the realities of college basketball, and the pressures that come with it.
The resumé says he’s coached Bryant for the last decade, shepherding the Bulldogs in their move from Division II into Division I, a move that’s not going to look good on any coach’s record. But resumés only tell you the facts — the hits, runs and errors of the game, who won and who lost. They don’t tell you about the need to win, over and over. They don’t tell you about the pressure that follows you around like an afternoon shadow even when you’re in a situation where it’s all but impossible to win.
That’s the most important part, of course. Resumés don’t tell you about the situation a coach was put into, nothing about the nuance. They just give you the facts, as cold as a police blotter. They give you the facts, not the story.
Monday afternoon was the symbolic goodbye, O’Shea announcing that this will be his last season as the Bryant coach.
And it was not without a certain emotion.
For being a coach never was just a job for O’Shea. Coaching always was a lover, something he took home every night, right there with his wife and daughter. You could see that Monday afternoon at Bryant in the small ceremony. In all the important ways O’Shea was not just saying goodbye to his job, he was also saying goodbye to a piece of his heart, as if there have been too many sleepless nights, too many migraines, too many nights with too many games fastbreaking through his head, too many nights when he’d lie there in the dark and tell himself that he had a great run for a long time and why did he keep doing this?
Eventually he didn’t have enough answers, the realization that the game stops for everyone, ready or not. The realization that it was time, like it or not.
So on Monday afternoon he said it was over.
All the long bus rides on cold winter nights.
All the endless recruiting trips.
All those times during games when his stomach seemed to be in his mouth.
All the things people never see.
Tim O’Shea, one of the real good guys in this basketball world around here, has said he’s had enough.
Bang the drum slowly.
