Attention to details

Gene Steinmeyer

I was named after my uncle, Gene Else. Uncle Gene was a basketball coach. Maybe that’s what drew me to basketball. My career followed very closely with his. His first coaching job was at Milford, Nebraska. That was my second job. He returned to Clatonia, Nebraska to coach. I did the same, coming home to Wilber-Clatonia High School.

After many successful seasons at Clatonia, Uncle Gene became the head boys’ coach at Doane College. In 1984, I became the head women’s coach at Doane College. By the time I joined the college ranks, Uncle Gene had retired.

In retirement, he demanded weekly sessions with his nephew. Many times he wondered if I paid attention to the fine details of fundamentals. I finally quit arguing that I had indeed taught fundamentals. I would just agree I’d try harder.

The real taskmaster in the family wasn’t Uncle Gene, but my aunt, Virginia Else. I called her Aunt Tootie. My aunt was a life-long educator. Although she taught many subjects, English was her specialty. I’m pretty sure she felt like she was a failure as a music teacher after attempts to teach me to play the piano and sing in the school choir. She finally threw up her arms and told me to mouth the words.

Aunt Tootie demanded perfection in the use of the English language. I didn’t dare use the word “ain’t” around her without a strong reprimand. In the last couple of blogs I have used “ain’t” twice in quotes.

“Say it ain’t so, Joe,” is what a youngster said to Shoeless Joe Jackson after he was indicted for cheating in 1919. “It ain’t over ’til it’s over,” is one of the famous Yogisms of former Yankees catcher, Yogi Berra. Each time I wrote it, I thought to ask her approval.

Aunt Tootie had such an effect on me; I cringe in certain statements I often hear in sports. The one that pops up the most often is the double negative. “There isn’t no “I” in team,” is a classic double negative. Double negatives would make Aunt Tootie roll in her grave.

I had one high school parent that didn’t know the difference of the singular “is” and the plural “are.” She would say, “The players is playing great together.” I would look around for my aunt when she uttered such statements.

I did mention that Aunt Tootie would roll in her grave. Sadly, she passed away two years ago. She kept passing lessons until she took her final breath. Stricken with breast cancer, run over by a pick-up, nearly blind with macular degeneration and confined to an assisted living facility, Aunt Tootie still proofread my book, When the Nets Came Down for Brenda. I had to print it in 24-point font so she could read it, but she found more little errors than my other two proofreaders combined. She had an attention to detail.

That’s where sports mirror academics. Any coach knows that success is in the details. To promote success in shooting a basketball, I would have my players do a series of six 30-second drills, each to emphasize one aspect of the jump shot. That just scratched the surface.

You can extend that to every part of a good athletic team. I once listened to Bob Knight talk about the body angles of screens for 15 minutes. He took another five minutes to introduce the lost art of the ball fake.

I am absolutely sure that some big-time, Division I program is missing the boat by not hiring former Northwest head men’s basketball coach, Steve Tappmeyer. All any coach would have to say to Tapp would be simple: give me a lockdown defense.

I sat in on many of Tapp’s practices. If you think details are only in offensive basketball, you needed to see Tapp coach. Tapp would pick up on the tiniest error of footwork and repeat the drill until it was correct. When you watch a defense, know there is a strategy for every situation on defense. Tapp had every situation practiced thoroughly.

Former Northwest assistant baseball coach, Matt Johnson, was unbelievable in spotting problem areas when he teaches baseball. Now the head St. Joe Mustangs coach, he taught baseball lessons in Maryville during Sam’s young days of baseball. I was amazed at how he could find the smallest chink in the mechanics of a pitcher.

Sam now takes pitching lessons from Jaime Bluma in Kansas City during the offseason. Although he is an opposite-type teacher than Johnson, his style works. It’s all in the details.

Those were the types of details my aunt used with the English language. In Clatonia, she was called Mrs. Else by her former students. She asked them to use her first name, but they just couldn’t do it. Men and women in their 70s called her Mrs. Else until she breathed her last breath. I guess the details she taught live on.