Barnes & Gillespie

Two great articles - one about each. Could be a great rivalry if they both stay.

Barnes:

http://www.dfw.com/mld/dfw/sports/16670019.htm


Barnes & noble: Charitable UT coach inspires loyalty

Not long after he was named head coach at Providence in 1988, Rick Barnes got a phone call from a friend.

Asked what he was doing, Barnes said he was sitting at his new desk. The friend asked him to lean back, put his feet up and think of the coaches who once sat there -- guys like Joe Mullaney, Dave Gavitt, Rick Pitino.

His buddy then told him how proud he should be to be where he was. But after the call, Barnes was anything but full of himself.

"The thing that went through my head was that I was 32 years old and had a five-year contract to get this thing done," Barnes remembered. "And if I don't, I'm wondering what am I going to do when I'm 37?"

Not to worry.

In the almost 20 years since, Barnes, 52, has guided three programs to 14 NCAA Tournaments (three Sweet 16s, an Elite Eight and a Final Four). His program at Texas has become one of college basketball's elite and with two more victories, he will overtake former coach Tom Penders as the Longhorns' winningest basketball coach.

He can tie Penders with a win today against Iowa State.

"It might not happen this year," Barnes said dryly as his young team has lost consecutive games for the first time this season. "But I've never really sat on a hill and thought about it.

"I'm not saying this in a cocky way, but I've never not seen myself where I am today. When I was growing up as a kid in North Carolina and watching the success of the coaches in the ACC, I saw myself in that arena.

"But you know what? I do think about how good this game has been to me. And what I thought about when we won our 400th game [Dec. 16], is they should have given one of those to balls to [strength and conditioning coach] Todd Wright and the other coaches.

"It's not about me. The one thing I will take credit for is that I have always hired good people."

The other side

Barnes tabs Russell Springmann the game's most underrated assistant coach, instrumental in signing the stars of the current freshman class, Kevin Durant and D.J. Augustin.

Springmann knows Barnes' recommendation will open doors as he seeks to become a head coach.

But that's not what Springmann covets about working for the man who is a rainbow of personality -- a tough, hard-nosed teacher with a heart of gold and a wicked sense of humor.

"It's not really even about my career," Springmann said. "It's about my life.... He has a huge heart and is a great example to all of us in terms of how he treats people and how he doesn't focus on himself at any point in time. No matter how successful we have been or how great the run is, he always gives credit to the players and everybody else.

"The thing I wish is that more people could see the side of him that reflects his general concern for people."

Even those closest to Barnes are reluctant to talk about his charitable and sometimes random acts of kindness because he adamantly shuns recognition. Some include:

Lending his name to and working diligently on an annual golf tournament that funds research and care centers for the Cystic Fibrosis Foundation. He often shares quiet moments with the children affected by the debilitating disease.

Lending time to and raising money for his alma mater of Lenoir-Rhyne and an after-school program/recreation center in his home town of Hickory, N.C.

Funding an Austin church playground.

Establishing and contributing annually to college expense funds for children of his staff members.

Though former assistant and now Miami head coach Frank Haith can well afford to send his kids to college, Barnes still contributes to the fund every Christmas.

"He doesn't have to do that," Haith said. "But Coach is just a standup guy in the way he is with his family, the way he handles himself.

"I will remember him forever because he has meant more to me than any other single person in my life. He has been so influential in everything I do. The nicest thing that people can say is that I'm just like him."

Barnes is also always good for lunch.

"We never go to a meal that he doesn't pay," said assistant Ken McDonald, who played for Barnes at Providence and also was on his staff at Clemson. "And he won't like the fact that this story is being done because he doesn't like attention on himself.

"But he does more for charitable causes and camps for kids than you will ever know. He's so generous, yet the other day he saw a sweatsuit he really liked for about $100 and he couldn't bring himself to spend the money on himself."

Little Ricky from Hickory

Urban sprawl has changed Hickory, N.C.

Barnes grew up in a town of 10,000 people and most lives were tied to the textile and furniture mills.

Barnes' mother, Mary, who at the age of 77 still punches in to her job on a local hospital cafeteria line, raised four children while sometimes working double shifts at the hosiery mill.

One was a precocious youngster who nevertheless realized the value of hard work. During high school, Barnes pumped gas and swept the local pool hall when he wasn't playing basketball, pulling practical jokes or hanging out with his grandfather, a school custodian.

While at and after he graduated in 1977 from Lenoir-Rhyne, where he was a role player on the basketball team, Rick worked a 4-to-8 a.m. shift loading trucks at UPS, was a substitute teacher, worked at the hosiery mill and wrote countless letters trying to break into coaching.

"All I wanted to be was a high school coach and a PE teacher because the people who helped me at a time of need were coaches and teachers I admired," Barnes said. "But I couldn't get a job."

When he married Candy his senior year in college, they moved into a $150-a-month house next to a 7-11 and, "thought we had it made."

And what you see now came from not only humble roots, but an inauspicious beginning.

"I flunked the first grade," Barnes said. "People ask me how you can flunk the first grade? I never went to school.

"My mom would drop me off and I would go in the front door and out the back. I'd go home and go down by the creek and play. I lived in my own little world and I was happy with it."

Here the prankster was born. The kid, who on a dare, rode his bicycle down the street naked, then, when a local patrol car passed, jumped off the bike and scooted through backyards to his own house -- where he slipped through a secret passageway underneath to avoid the manhunt.

Barnes' legendary practical jokes sometimes cause his boss to roll his eyes. He will say anything to anybody.

"I think that's Rick's way of coping, of living with the pressure he's under," Texas athletic director DeLoss Dodds said. "When he's out from under the spotlight, he has a good time. And he gets by with it. If I said some of the things he says... "

His car-moving antics are famous. He once hid under a department secretary's desk in her absence and scared her on her return in retaliation for something she had pulled on him, and lived to regret.

He once talked hotel personnel into presenting a fake bill to a beat writer that included the tab for the team's breakfast.

These are the ones PG-rated.

"Rick is still that small-town guy who few people ever gave a chance to amount to anything in life, and I still think he carries that with him," said TV color analyst and former head coach Fran Fraschilla, who was on Barnes' staff at Providence.

"I think that's why he's able to make fun of himself -- and everybody else."

Barnes confessed, "The real Rick Barnes is the prankster. That's who I really am. I love being around people who laugh. I'm serious about my work, but I like having fun. And I will say things that other people might not say, but are thinking.

"I've probably been lucky that I haven't gotten in trouble with it, you know? But I care deeply about people, and I don't like moody people or phonies."

The coach and T.J.

Barnes has adapted to the game's changes and players' attitudes. His recruiting practices remain in left field.

Fraschilla recalls a home recruiting visit during which Barnes spent 20 minutes doing magic tricks. Yet Fraschilla also remembers a time when Barnes blistered a recruit for criticizing one of his players, walked out of the house and never looked back. Never called again, either.

T.J. Ford's mother immediately fell for Barnes when he showed up at her front door in a polo shirt, khakis and loafers with no socks -- in sharp contrast to the formal, suit-attired approach by coaches from other major programs.

"The impression he made on my mom was one of the big reasons other people stopped recruiting me," said Ford after a recent shootaround with the Toronto Raptors.

Barnes said Ford helped evolve his ability to relate to his players, though he still pushes them to the edge and can bring them back before they hate his guts. He constantly talks to his players on the phone at night, visits with them in the lounge of the Cooley Pavilion.

"I love my guys," Barnes said. "And I push them. But nobody worked harder at basketball than I did."

The Barnes-Ford relationship was then and remains more than player-coach.

"Definitely," Ford said.

Barnes recalls a moment in a game at Oklahoma when he benched Brian Boddicker, exasperated with his defensive effort. During a second-half timeout, Ford asked Barnes if he wanted to win the game. Barnes gave him that "are you nuts?" look.

"Then put Big Body [Boddicker's nickname] back in," Ford said.

Barnes did. Ford immediately ran a play for Boddicker that resulted in a 3-point basket to start a 9-0 run instrumental in a rally from a 14-point deficit and eventual victory over OU on senior day.

As they filed into the tunnel, Barnes felt a slap on his rump so hard he turned around sharply. It was T.J.

"You know what?" Ford said. "You're one hell of a coach."

The uniquely talented point guard credits Barnes for making him one hell of a player, including earning Player of the Year honors as a sophomore.

"He was a father-figure for me away from home and helped me get to the point where I am now," Ford said. "I knew he was going to push me -- and he did -- and that he would take my game to the next level and not let my ego get in the way.

"He's able to get kids to open up to him. That's why we were able to get some things done while I was there and I think it will continue on."

A track record

Barnes says Dave Gavitt, the former Big East commissioner who helped him get the Providence job, was his most influential mentor.

"This guy never took the short cut," Gavitt said. "It was always done in the right way. Recruiting, academic support, community service. You name it, the proof was in the pudding.

"He turned out graduates and good human beings who went on to be a success in life. I have a lot of respect for Rick, and I'm not at all surprised with the great success he's had at Texas."

Indiana coach and fellow Carolinian Kelvin Sampson has known Barnes since college days. At OU, Sampson was his most fierce competitor, as well as the butt of many jokes and a frequent late-night telephone visitor.

"What Rick has done with that program at Texas is tremendous," Sampson said recently. "He's one of the best people in our game.

"It's a tremendous compliment when you can get your teams to play year in and year out the way he sees the game. And over the years he has adjusted to the way the game is played today.

"Rick is a great coach. He's a prankster, he's classy and he's tough. I think he is the complete package. And he will always be one of my best friends."

 

Gillespie:

http://www.mercurynews.com/mld/mercurynews/sports/16666148.htm


Gillispie takes Texas A&M to new heights

COLLEGE STATION, Texas - As is the case every Thursday night, the Billy Gillispie Radio Show is playing to a packed house at Wings `N More.

Maroon-clad patrons have come for an hour of finger-smackin' and folksy banter with Texas A&M's basketball savior. The fidgety coach with dark bags under his eyes deftly fields every question until 9-year-old Darby steps to the microphone.

"Do you like your job?" she asks.

Taken aback, Gillispie hesitates. Long enough for onlookers to draw a deep barbecue breath. Long enough for Aggieland radio listeners to choke down a gulp.

Leave it to a fourth-grader to ask what adult Aggies are gnawing to know but hesitant to bring up.

Their once-embarrassing basketball team is an almost-too-good-to-be-true 20-3, ranked No. 6 in the country. Their 47-year-old coach is one of college basketball's hottest commodities.

Aggies faithful are all too aware that their third-year coach has never remained at a job for more than three seasons during his 10-stop, 20-year career.

"That's a good question," Gillispie finally tells Darby. "There are a lot of parts that aren't as much fun as others, but I do like my job.

"I like competing, and I like being able to say I'm the head coach at Texas A&M."

After the show, fans line up to shake Gillispie's hand while he sits with a reporter, who remarks that the coach is being treated like a conquering hero.

"Everybody's been fantastic," Gillispie says. "Hopefully, we'll give them reason to keep feeling the same way. But the harsh reality of coaching is people usually change their mind."

With that, he orders carryout wings and heads to his one-story, 3,500-square-foot Bryan home.

He stays up until 3 a.m. in his bedroom office, watching videotape of the Aggies' next opponent. He rises at 7:30, watches more video and heads for campus, stopping at a convenience store for his customary breakfast.

Peanut butter crackers and Dr Pepper.

In his campus office, behind the desk plate that reads "Billy Gillispie: Building Champions," he rocks feverishly in his chair throughout an hourlong interview, occasionally reaching out to readjust the six videotapes stacked precisely on his desk.

He says he watches as many as 15 of an opponent's games, even though a few would suffice. Never mind that his three assistants also scour tapes and write the scouting reports.

"I like doing it, but I think it's overkill because I see stuff over and over and over," he admits. "I get totally consumed. I know it's not healthy. I preach to the players about having balance, but I don't do a very good job of exhibiting it."

He isn't bragging or apologizing. This is how he ticks.

Solid foundation

Winifred "Wimpy" Gillispie reckons her son Billy Clyde comes by hard work naturally.

His father, Clyde, drove cattle trucks for years, then worked in the oil fields.

Besides, most of the adults in Billy's 494-citizen hometown of Graford (65 miles west of Fort Worth) work long hours.

That includes 74-year-old Wimpy, who works five eight-hour shifts per week at Morrow Grocery - plus three hours on Mondays.

"We tried to make him responsible," she says of Billy. "We felt like if somebody was paying you, you needed to give them a good day's work."

Billy had various jobs during his youth, one he claims he performed poorly. At age 10, he delivered The Fort Worth Press, which fortunately was an afternoon paper six days a week.

"I was a bad paperboy on Sunday because I didn't like getting up early."

His first coaching boss also was another Graford product. Bob Derryberry attended high school with Clyde Gillispie. After Billy played basketball and baseball at Ranger College from 1978 to `80, Clyde phoned Derryberry, the basketball coach at Sam Houston State.

Billy worked one year as a student assistant at Sam Houston, then accompanied Derryberry to Texas State, where he served three years as a graduate assistant.

"He was always reserved, got his job done," says Derryberry, 69, who lives in Flatonia and drives two hours to every A&M home game with his wife, Kathy. "I can't ever remember correcting him.

"But looking back on it, I don't know if I saw him being as aggressive and intense as he is now."

Strong worth ethic

Gillispie can't pinpoint exactly when he became such an intense coach. Or when he turned into a night owl.

Both, he suspects, happened out of necessity during his four high school coaching stops and stints as an assistant at South Plains College, Baylor, Tulsa and Illinois.

He notes that every job demanded a quick turnaround and, thus, a more assertive approach. He says he is naturally "pretty shy," but major college coaching requires an outgoing public persona.

Aggies senior Josh Johnston, who also played for Gillispie at UT-El Paso in 2003-04, was asked last season whether Gillispie is a bit crazy. "Aren't all the great ones?" he responded.

"I'm not a great one," Gillispie says. "But when you say crazy, I think coaches are great actors, as far as trying to dictate the mood or mode of their team. You may appear to be crazy on some of those days."

Most coaches are quirky workaholics, but Gillispie's peers joke that he is an extreme case. They cite his 2 a.m. phone calls, when he's usually watching video or on a lonely back road after watching a recruit.

Among those on his speed dial is San Antonio Spurs general manager R.C. Buford, who marvels at Gillispie's talent-evaluating and uncanny memory. Name a Texas high school, and chances are Gillispie knows the basketball coach's name.

"It's derived from the fact he was one of them," Buford says. "He treats them with respect and dignity, and I'm not sure they always get treated that way, unless they have a player that someone needs."

Out of balance

During the waning moments of A&M's comeback victory at then-No. 6 Kansas last Saturday, Dick Vitale bellowed to his ESPN audience that Gillispie "is the most eligible bachelor in College Station!"

Actually, Gillispie was married for eight years to the former Misty Maulding. Virtually every week on his radio show, Gillispie makes self-deprecating references to his unsuccessful attempt at matrimony.

Misty is remarried and has children. Three years ago, she told the

El Paso Times: "Coach Gillispie is nothing but a first-class act with a heart for his players and a love of basketball. . . . I can say this having been his friend for more than 20 years, as well as his ex-wife."

Gillispie says Misty "is the most sweetheart girl you ever could see," adding, "I didn't do a good enough job because of my lack of balance.

"I've had a lot of failures, but that's definitely one of the biggest failures of my life. I won't fail again. If (another marriage) ever were to happen, it would be a slam dunk where I'm going to make it work."

He says he would love to be a father someday but is the first to admit that at this juncture in his life he is not marriage material "because I have some things that I want to be more committed to."

Namely, Texas A&M, which he has guided to three straight 20-win seasons, a first in the program's 94-year history. Among many other firsts, these Aggies are steamrolling toward their second straight NCAA Tournament berth.

At this coaching stop,

Gillispie is settled in enough that he won't be embarrassed to host one of those made-for-TV team gatherings on Selection Sunday.

In 2004, his UTEP team needed a gathering spot, but when the TV crew arrived at Gillispie's home, they found scant furnishing and a Christmas tree someone had decorated for him.

When he bought his Bryan home, his main priority was to have a pool and a spa. He hired someone to furnish and decorate the house.

Stocking the fridge and cupboard is another matter. Gillispie says he recently went grocery shopping for the first time in about six months, stocking up things such as bathroom items, water, beer, soft drinks, cheese, salsa and sandwich meat.

"I got a bunch of fruit, but I'd say about half gets thrown out after a while," he laughs. "I have good intentions when I buy it, but ..."

"He's telling you the truth," says A&M assistant Alvin Brooks, who accompanied Gillispie from UTEP. "I've never been to his house when he had food in the fridge. It's clean."

No secret formula

Fortunately for Gillispie, Aggies players and staff are fed post-practice dinner at Reed Arena four days a week.

The other nights, Gillispie eats out, invariably by himself, adding, "that's about the extent of my social life." He says he doesn't mind eating alone because he likes to people-watch. Fans occasionally come say hello, which he says he enjoys.

Brooks says coaches at other schools often ask, "What's Gillispie's secret?" They hear about the long hours the A&M coaching staff puts in and the intense practices, sometimes even on game day.

They wonder how the Aggies players maintain their focus and game legs and how the assistants cope with Gillispie's demands. It's easy, Brooks explains, when the boss is outworking everyone else.

During practices and games, players usually break huddles with the word "family." During postgame news conferences, Gillispie occasionally tears up when talking about individual players.

Brooks says Gillispie encourages assistants to bring their kids to practice and scolds them for spending "empty hours" in the office, adding, "I don't have a reason to go home. You do."

Wimpy Gillispie says she has no idea whether her son eats square meals or gets enough sleep because she rarely sees him, except when she attends an A&M game and when he returns to Graford each Christmas Eve, along with his four sisters and their families.

Last Christmas, Wimpy was grateful that Billy seemed relaxed. She didn't press him about basketball or his personal life.

"Whatever makes him happy, that's the main thing I pray for every day," she says. "I know that he prays and seeks God as guidance, and that's something I'm very proud of."

When his mother's words are repeated, Gillispie's eyes water. Asked about 9-year-old Darby's "Do you like your job?" question the morning after the fact, Gillispie says the reason he hesitated in answering is that it made him think.

"I do, I love it, but it's not a job," he says. "When you think about it, basketball's been my entire life. But it's always been a game."

Does he love the Texas A&M job enough to make it his final stop? Surely this off-season some other school, perhaps one with a rich basketball tradition, will knock on Gillispie's door.

Aggies fans have reason for optimism. Gillispie says he would like to find a larger existing home in the Bryan-College Station area, or perhaps a lot on which to build.

"I just haven't had any luck finding the absolute best place," he says, adding, "I don't have any intention of leaving. Hopefully, they'll let me stay here."

Realtors need not rush to the rescue, because last month A&M broke ground on the best enticement, a $20 million practice facility scheduled for completion in early 2008.

Gillispie even went out and got groceries - namely, a highly rated 2007 recruiting class led by DeAndre Jordan, a 7-footer from Houston who, according to Gillispie, has "unlimited potential."

The same perhaps can be said of Gillispie and whatever school he decides to call home.