The Other Team...

GUEST BLOG 
by Paul Whitt











“But time is short, and the road is long, in the blinking of an eye, ah that moment's gone . And when it's done, win or lose, you always did your best, cuz inside you knew... (that) ONE SHINING MOMENT, YOU REACHED DEEP INSIDE. ONE SHINING MOMENT, YOU KNEW YOU WERE ALIVE…”

Words & Music: David Barrett Hodges Song Supply/ASCAP

For the last 25+ years, college basketball fans have enjoyed this addictive song as it’s attached to the most memorable visual moments from March Madness and the Final Four. It inevitably includes shots of highlight dunks, the raw emotion of the competition, highlights from the year’s “Cinderella,” and typically the most captivating buzzer beaters from the tournament. It helps any fan of the game relive the previous three weeks in about 200 seconds. In the end, you’re left with the images of the winning team in their championship t-shirts and hats, celebrating with the trophy and cutting down the nets.

But what about the team that is on the other bench during the “one shining moment?”

A magical and memorable season for our small rural high school ended last Friday night when the visiting team knocked down a 3-pointer with no time remaining, giving them a 51-50 win and a place in the regional final. Their fans rushed the floor, the hero, a senior guard who hadn't scored in either of the two games I scouted, was on the floor under a pile of teammates and coaches, and the officials frantically signaled the basket was good as they sprinted off of the floor.

And there we stood. My guys looked like the description you hear of survivors of an airline accident – walking around dazed and confused. Then reality hit as some fell to their knees at mid-court and sobbed, while others pulled their jerseys over their faces to try to hide the tears. After congratulating the other team and coaches, our lifeless players staggered to our locker room while I fell into my seat on our bench, just staring at the ground. What now? What do I say to them? I never prepare to lose.

After four or five minutes , I stood to walk in to address our guys, but was met by them returning to the floor. We have had a tradition of saluting and thanking our fans, win or lose, after every game by going to our section of the bleachers and clapping for them, and spending time talking to each one that wants to talk. The players realized that in their state of shock, they had not done that with what was our biggest assembly of fans in years. And they wanted to do the right thing. So they stood, cried, talked, hugged, and even posed for pictures for nearly half an hour.

When we finally made it to the locker room, I had three goals in mind. First, I wanted to keep it short. After millions upon millions of words I had spoken to them through the course of a season, there is not a more distracted audience than a locker room of guys who've just been surprised to find their season, and some their careers, over. Secondly, I wanted to remind them of their accomplishments through the season; accomplishments that could never be taken away. We finished 20-3, a perfect 14-0 in conference and won our conference for the first time in school history. We were ranked as high as fifth in state polls, and enjoyed a 17 –game winning streak. But we also united two communities behind a group of guys that they adopted as their own. You see, our school is so small, three seasons ago we combined with a smaller school in the area to have enough to play sports. The schools that were once bitter rivals, are now joined just to be able to compete, and some in the community weren't  quite ready for it. But that seemed to change this season, and fans from both communities stood side by side to cheer on the one team that represented them both.  And finally, I wanted to communicate my unconditional love and concern for them. A season may have just ended, and ended with a rare loss, but that doesn't change what I think of them or the fact that I love them. They are like sons to me and we all cared a lot, which is a reason it hurt so much. And in the end, I wouldn't trade any of our experiences and relationships for a chance to replay the final play.

So, the next time you see that last-second shot swish through the net, a team chase a hero around the gym before tackling him, an exuberant coach pointing to his family sitting up in the stands, and the crowd rushing the court with unbridled enthusiasm, remember, there’s always a team on the other side of someone’s “one shining moment.”

This was a post from guest blogger, Paul Whitt.  Coach Whitt is the Director of Athletics & Head Boy's Basketball Coach at Goodman/Pembine High School in Wisconsin.  You can follow Coach Whitt on Twitter by clicking HERE.