by Bryan Swartz » Wed Jan 18, 2012 2:23 pm
July, 2012
You can't stop progress, but I'd sure like to try. Sometimes it seems there is nothing about 'progress' that is actually, you know, progressive. But I'm getting ahead of myself.
The seeds for this begin way back in 2006. Funny how a few years can seem a lifetime. For me, that was my final year as a forward for a Tier III school in central Indiana that few people have even heard of. I mean, who calls themselves the Moundbuilders? But it was the basketball heartland, and I’ve always loved the game. It was the end of the road for my playing career, and I knew it. No matter how hard you work, at the end of the day you’ve either got the gift or you don’t, and my instincts and athleticism were merely pretty good. Not nearly enough to make a career out of it.
I spent the next couple of years as an assistant/gopher in Bloomington at the University of Indiana, one of the country’s more storied and presitigous programs. What I learned there is not so much an indictment of them as it is an indictment of what big-time collegiate athletics have become in the modern world. To put it simply, everybody cheats. Most don’t get caught, and those that do are treated with quite poorly feigned outrage. To see that the term ‘student-athlete’ is a complete anachronism, one must simply observe the fact that it is rarely even touted anymore, even tongue-in-cheek. One does what one must to win. Too high a price for me. I was constantly told I had the gift to be a fantastic big-time coach … I just needed to work on my ‘moral flexibility’. They needed to work on their hearing.
I returned to Anderson HS to teach history and coach the team at my alma mater there. Somewhat disillusioned was I, all the more so when I first heard of the ‘grand experiment’ the AACA(American Association of Collegiate Athletics) was about to implement. The traditional conferences were to be done away with. Gone were the regional rivalries, competitive stability, and pretense that anything but the final competitive product meant anything. Conference groupings would change each year and would be based soley on the success of the basketball program.
Then this spring, as our season wound down – we lost in the district semifinals, which for a school of this size is a good achievement, and besides, I’m enjoying working in something smaller, simpler, less complicated. Anyway, a couple weeks after the final buzzer, while I was still missing it more than I was enjoying the extra time, I got a fateful phone call. It took some phone tag and most of the next couple days to convince me that it was genuine. I was headed to the northeast – a new, not really believable job opportunity had just come up. But there are some things you don’t say no to, no matter how crazy.
You see, the turmoil of the AACA’s bold realignment had hit one place harder than all others – the schools of the former Academia League. A certain level playing field was instituted by the fact that only a dozen schools outside of the Academia even pretended to have academic standards as stringent as the most permissive of it’s eight members. A certain pride was involved. And of the now more than 350 Tier I programs, none were as demanding as those at Princeton and the place I was headed to interview, the Cambridge university and Massachusetts. Most pundits and nearly all of my mentors – yes, even the ones who don’t think I’m a complete nut-job wacko – expect the former Academia schools, with the possible except of Pennsylvania, to be out of Tier I in the next decade or two.
Finding people willing to walk into that kind of a situation is difficult. Which explains why my youth and near-complete lack of qualifiying experience became a virtual non-issue. The other part of that is the fact that failing at Cambridge, in a basketball sense, is a virtual impossibility. They haven’t won the Academia League since 1946. That’s also the last time they made it to the ACAA tournament, losing both games including the regional consolation game. Zero tournament wins in school history. That was before the recent unpleasantness made the job much more difficult.
I was just young enough and impulsive enough not to realize how potentially stupid it was to make such a leap. I saw a great opportunity, a challenge some consider impossible, and an opportunity to work at one of the few places in America where it actually might still matter how the result is achieved, not just the result itself.
Which brings me back to today. The summer recruiting wars are upon me, and in a few short months I’ll be guiding Cambridge to what I hope is not a huge embarrassing failure in the first season of the new conference structure. Many long nights are I’m sure ahead, but there’s a part of me that still believes something special is possible here.
And if not, at least I won't have to wonder what might have been ...