I'd like to, if I may, address those people openly questioning the Kelvin Sampson hire.

Are you f---ing insane?  Wake up.  You’ve been Kravitzfied, plain and simple.  You've
been sucked into Bob Kravitz's little realm of fabricated controversy. 

Believe me when I say this: I’m not opposed to laying into Rick Greenspan.  I'm just not.  (Oh…and just so we’re clear: when I say "laying into Rick Greenspan," I mean "portraying Rick Greenspan as a borderline mentally retarded Alzheimer's patient who enjoys Subway
subs, destroying my faith in mankind, and Mike Davis' sweater vests.")  In fact, calling out the Indiana athletic director is something I relish.  Something I enjoy.  Mightily.

But I can't do it here.  I just can't.  Not now.  Not with this decision.  Not with the hiring of Kelvin Sampson.  Because this move, in general, is a whole lot of fantastic.  It is.  For IU basketball.  For the school.  For the fans.  For everyone.  Why?   Because Rick Greenspan just up and went all Principal-Cletus-Summers on us.  

Rick Greenspan just went out and hired Norman Dale.  That's why. 

Let’s just be honest here.  I mean, what did IU just get?  An old-school disciplinarian?  Check.  A basketball fundamentalist?  Check.   A proven winner with that unmistakable “my-team's-on-the-floor” hard-ass-ness?  Check.  An outsider who brings with him a deep reverence for Hoosier basketball, a lone NCAA investigation, and experience as a midshipman in the Navy?  Check, check, and check-with-an-asterisk.

(Face it: what are the odds that Sampson held a sit-down at the Grant Street Barbershop on Tuesday night with Greenspan, Dr. Herbert, and various townies?  I’m talking about an informal Q&A where he got peppered with questions regarding his defensive philosophies, his chosen offensive style, and his plans for getting DJ White to suit up again.  What are the odds?  I’d say strong...to quite strong.  The odds are quite strong.) 

Still not buying into the Sampson hire?  Fair enough.  You will, in time.  You probably just haven’t yet grasped everything that our own little Chief Normandale brings to the IU table.  Either that or you’re a Communist.  One or the other.

Regardless, if the movie Hoosiers has taught us
anything, it’s that every single facet of our
society can—and probably should—be analogized
to the ongoings of Hickory, Indiana.  And when
someone from outside our state is hired to run
an Indiana basketball team?  The same someone
who’s qualifications and Bob-Knight-like coaching
methods are being questioned?  Well, then you
have no choice.  None.  It’s out of your hands at
that point, and rightfully so.  A Hoosiers-related
analysis is mandated.  I’m pretty sure it’s state
law.  Or if it's not...it should be. 

With that being said, I’m breaking this whole thing down with some of Hoosiers' most memorable quotes.  You know…not because I necessarily want to, but rather because I have to.  I’m laying out the reasons for why Kelvin Sampson is the best—if not the perfect—choice for IU.  I’m here to de-Kravitzfy you, Angelo-Pizzo-style.

Kelvin Sampson is Norman Dale.  Norman Dale is Kelvin Sampson.  You’ll see.  

Let’s get down to it.

_____________________________________________________________________


“Sun don't shine on the same dog's ass everyday.  But, mister…you ain't seen a ray of light since you got here.”

No matter who was named as Ninja Mike’s successor, an old-fashioned lambasting
was sure to follow.  There's no other way around it.  You know it’s true.  Steve Alford?  Good at Division VIII Manchester…not so good in the Big Ten.   Mark Few?    Eighteen consecutive years now he’s failed to advance beyond the Sweet Sixteen.   John Calapari?
Too Mafioso.   Rick Majerus?  We'd have another John-Candy-on-the-set-of-Wagons-East-
type of dilemma on our hands.   Randy Wittman?  (Hold on a second…I just swallowed my tongue.)  He’s Randy Wittman.   Tom Crean?   Owes more to Dwyane Wade than
the NAPTN (“National Association of People with Typos in their Name.”)   You get the idea.

Sampson hasn’t seen a ray of light yet.  But then again, who would?  John Wodden?  Dean Smith?  Bobby Finstock?  Those guys aren't walking through the Assembly Hall doors anytime soon.  How about a grain of salt to go with those criticisms?  And a tip of the cap to Sampson for staying above the fray. 

_____________________________________________________________________


“Clete, you tell ‘im.  Sectionals of '33, one point down.  Five, four, three, two, one…let 'er fly.  [Cough]  In and out. Yeah, well…I was fouled.”

I don't know how else to say it: there's something wholly likable about Sampson.  Just like with Shooter.  Not sure why this is—or what proof I can offer—but it's there.  Understand, I'm not saying that our new coach will fire rifle shots at people stopping by his house or that he possesses only one suit (i.e., the wing-dinger he got married in)…but nevertheless.  Other than Majerus (for obvious reasons) and Wittman (I’ve always been a sucker for scrap-heap droids), who among the potential candidates was even remotely likeable?  Nobody.  That’s who.  

And I know what you’re thinking:  Who cares?   Well, you know what?  I do.  I care.  For six miserable years, I’ve had to endure an IU coach who was about as likable as dysentery.    And I’m done with it.  Good riddance.  Sampson, meanwhile, falls into that same category as midgets and “Mike-and-Ikes”…really, what’s there not to love?  

This may not seem terribly important just now.  But it will.  If what I've heard is true, it will.  Just as soon as we remember that we are in fact allowed to like our team’s coach.  Or so goes the legend.  I'm hopeful.     

_____________________________________________________________________


“Look, mister…there's two kinds of dumb: the guy that gets naked and runs out in the snow and barks at the moon.  And, uhh…the guy who does the same thing in my living room.  First one don't matter...the second one you're kinda forced to deal with.”

Unfortunately, there might be three kinds, George.  There's also the guy—the guy who serves as the face of his entire state, mind you—who says things like "We the fo'th seed!" 382 times during an otherwise incoherent eight minute interview. That's the guy you're forced to deal with.  F--- the naked barking-at-the-moon guys. 

Well, enter Coach Sampson.  Consider the problem officially dealt with. 

Oh, Sweet Jesus.  Can you imagine what it'll be like to not feel nauseous when seeing IU's coach give an interview on national television?  I can.  I can indeed.  It's a foreign world...a foreign, beautiful world without the need for subtitles.  I mean that's just win-win.  That's the kind of can-do progress that might someday bring corporations and college grads into Indiana.  Couldn't hurt, at least.  But again...I remain hopeful.

But how do you know he's smart? you ask.  First, I read where he's a Civil War buff and an Abraham Lincoln historian.  I'm not joking.  In Mike Davis terms, that makes him omnipotent by comparison.  Secondly... 

_____________________________________________________________________


“Welcome to Indiana basketball.”

...Sampson has, thus far, demonstrated an understanding of exactly what he’s getting himself into at IU.  He understands Indiana.  He understands the Tradition.  He understands the history and how we feel about our
basketball.  Or maybe he doesn't.  (Yet.)  I don't
know.  And I don't really care.  Because at least he
was smart enough to act like he did.  At least he
was bright enough to embrace the Hoosier
past—and everything that comes with it.  Mike
Davis never did that.  And I'm fairly certain that the
Calapari's and Pitino's are too egotistical to stray
very far from their own basketball formulas and
ideologies.  The Calapari's and Pitino's have
always been bigger than the universities that
employed them.  But that's not so with Sampson. 

In his first day on the job, Sampson deferred to his
team, all seven of them (well, six-and-a-half...Suhr
is kind of small and "ain't real good").  He deferred
to his program and to the history that is Indiana basketball.  They were all more important than he was.  Or so he kept telling us.

Somewhere, Norman Dale nodded his approvement.  And somewhere—in some far-off Alabama video arcade—Mike Davis learned an invaluable lesson.  He learned how he should have embraced the IU job.     

_____________________________________________________________________


“My practices aren't designed for your enjoyment.”

I've told this story now 1,039 times in the two days since Sampson's hiring.  This time will be the last... 

A couple of years ago, SportsCenter was running some kind of continuing feature on NCAA college basketball coaches.  They'd stop by and film a practice and interview various members of the program.  Long story short, I remember being blown away at Sampson's Oklahoma practice.  I don't even remember what other programs were featured (and I watched more than a few of them)...but I remember Kelvin Sampson vividly.  Even before he was named IU's coach.

If what the cameras captured was accurate, a Kelvin Sampson practice is about 16 notches above a Navy SEAL punishment drill (and about two steps below Hell.)  It was pure, unadulterated combat.  Organized chaos.  And at the epicenter of the madness was the wildly energetic Sampson, screaming and grabbing people and kind of scaring the television-watching audience.  It wouldn't be a stretch to imagine Sampson climbing on top of the backboard—bullhorn in hand—and chanting "TWO WILL ENTER, ONE WILL LEAVE...TWO WILL ENTER, ONE WILL LEAVE..." after ordering his starting backcourt 
into a no-holds-barred loose-ball cage match.  It was that kind of practice.  The kind that would have turned Marco Killingsworth into the third overall pick in the NBA draft had he ever endured one.

And that's my point.  We've all heard the horrifying tales of a Mike-Davis-led practice.  Speedway Williams was unfortunate enough to actually sit in on one.  I won't paralyze you with the details.  Just know that it's exactly—EXACTLY—how you imagine it would be: an hour-and-a-half of scrimmaging followed by a light-hearted game of "Knockout." 

I wish I were kidding.

It's safe to say that those days are gone.  After watching the carnage of a Kelvin Sampson practice, I can say this in all honesty: his practices are not designed for anyone's enjoyment.  They're designed to take the players right up to the verge of death, all in the name of mental toughness.   

I wish the season started tomorrow.   

_____________________________________________________________________


“I've seen you guys can shoot but there's more to the game than shooting.  There's fundamentals and defense.”

That's Indiana basketball.  And it just so happens to be the foundation of a Kelvin Sampson program.

And you're still questioning the hire?

(Maybe there are four kinds of dumb, George.)
Thursday, March 30, 2006
Leave the Ball, Will Ya, Mike?
Leave the Ball, Will Ya, Mike?
You probably just haven’t yet grasped everything that our own little Chief Normandale brings to the IU table.
And somewhere— in some far-off Alabama video arcade—Mike Davis learned an invaluable lesson.  He learned how he should have embraced the IU job.
You probably just haven’t yet grasped everything that our own little Chief Normandale brings to the IU table.
And somewhere— in some far-off Alabama video arcade—Mike Davis learned an invaluable lesson.  He learned how he should have embraced the IU job.