JS
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Seeing the thread about the freshmen arriving in Storrs made me flash back to my first look at another freshman.
It's the summer of 2007. I walk into Gampel to watch a practice. It's the time of year when the coaches can work with small groups. I sit in the stands at the end of the court where three players are doing various drills.
Maya Moore is in red shorts. No particular workout clothes, just whatever she felt like grabbing.
She's working on a particular move from the top of the key, with someone playing the role of defender. The move involves a fake, a spin and a cut to the basket where she takes a pass on her way to the hoop.
Geno is working on it with her. Not an assistant, Geno. He's the one making the pass, and offering comments.
She can't get it right. She's talking to herself, not words, but sounds: "Ahhhh. Groan." (shakes head, goes back to where she started).
They do the play again. And again. And again.
Geno steps in and demonstrates. He's wearing sweat pants and sneakers. Looks athletic enough, but isn't doing it at speed -- more like half speed, just showing something about the upper body or the feet at certain points in the move.
They do it again. Over and over. Finally she gets it right, not once but several times in a row. They're satisfied, and the practice moves on, with him watching someone else.
I'm thinking, "This is the great Maya Moore. Most heralded recruit in a long time. And look how she knows her game isn't where she wants it to be; look how she wants to get better and is willing to work hard to do it."
And thinking: "That's some coach. The assistants are watching; he's the one on the floor right in the middle of the nitty-gritty basketball, helping a player get better. Almost makes me want to be out there learning."
Well, some fantasies are more extreme than others. Let's leave it at great player, great coach. They go together well.
It's the summer of 2007. I walk into Gampel to watch a practice. It's the time of year when the coaches can work with small groups. I sit in the stands at the end of the court where three players are doing various drills.
Maya Moore is in red shorts. No particular workout clothes, just whatever she felt like grabbing.
She's working on a particular move from the top of the key, with someone playing the role of defender. The move involves a fake, a spin and a cut to the basket where she takes a pass on her way to the hoop.
Geno is working on it with her. Not an assistant, Geno. He's the one making the pass, and offering comments.
She can't get it right. She's talking to herself, not words, but sounds: "Ahhhh. Groan." (shakes head, goes back to where she started).
They do the play again. And again. And again.
Geno steps in and demonstrates. He's wearing sweat pants and sneakers. Looks athletic enough, but isn't doing it at speed -- more like half speed, just showing something about the upper body or the feet at certain points in the move.
They do it again. Over and over. Finally she gets it right, not once but several times in a row. They're satisfied, and the practice moves on, with him watching someone else.
I'm thinking, "This is the great Maya Moore. Most heralded recruit in a long time. And look how she knows her game isn't where she wants it to be; look how she wants to get better and is willing to work hard to do it."
And thinking: "That's some coach. The assistants are watching; he's the one on the floor right in the middle of the nitty-gritty basketball, helping a player get better. Almost makes me want to be out there learning."
Well, some fantasies are more extreme than others. Let's leave it at great player, great coach. They go together well.
Even Maya's physical gifts were greatly enhanced by work in the weight room. It was so wonderful watching the best player who also was the hardest working. The year after Maya left, Geno asked the team at practice who was going to replace Maya's intensity. I don't think he got any takers initially.
