A tribute to John Wooden that will make you stop and think

By the time I came to consciousness, Wooden had already been long-retired. But more so than his successor coaches (who never had a chance) or the ever-changing cast of young athletes, Wooden still was UCLA basketball then, the one whose mere presence in the arena made the program seem elite and dignified, even during the years when it was neither. It’s not just that Wooden led the Bruins to ten championships, six more than any other coach in the sport’s history, or that he won almost 400 more games than he lost. It’s that, as The New York Times noted in his obituary, “he ultimately became viewed as a kind of sage for both basketball and life, a symbol of both excellence and simpler times.” For many, his dominance seemed to assume a moral dimension. I’m not sure I ever bought into that part—controlling his players dietary and dating habits, while assuring that their socks were always 50 percent wool feels needlessly authoritarian. And it’s generous to say that his millions-selling Pyramid of Success merely runs the border between corny and quaint. But, to a degree no other big-time coach has matched, he tried to wend his players, whom he fittingly called “his kids,” into adulthood. Just listen to the way his former charges speak about him—not just the sickeningly effusive Bill Walton, but far more aloof folks, like Kareem Abdul Jabbar. For someone so successful, Wooden always seemed to care less about basketball than hanging out with Nellie, his wife of 53 years and the only girl he ever dated. (In his final days, he asked for a shave so he’d have a fresh face for her.)