By Dr. John E. Morgan

Pastor–Collinsville Baptist Church

I got her stare one time.  It seemed to cut straight to my brain and see everything about me.  The woman staring at me was at least a hundred feet away across a large room.  And my mother had assured me the woman was my cousin.

Her laser eyes determined that I was not a spy and was no danger.  So she ignored me and returned to her job.  Watching her, I learned a lot about coaching.  And about life.

Her name was Pat Summitt.  More wins than any coach in college basketball history. Coach of my team, the Tennessee Lady Vols.  And, every time she appeared on television, my mother would say, “Look, it’s your cousin.”

My oldest son was doing college tours in his senior year in high school.  He looked at architecture schools at several colleges. Including Tennessee.

My wife went with him on the campus tour while I watched our other three sons.. We wandered around the school.  We saw part of an October football practice by the sports complex. We walked to the football stadium.  It was locked so we went to the gym.  We walked right through the unlocked doors like we belonged.  The Lady Vols were practicing.

We quietly sat down in the bleachers.  Coach Summitt stared at me.  I passed inspection. The practice continued.

The practice was divided into carefully planned segments of about five minutes. Each was timed on the clock. I had never seen that done, though it is common now.  She roamed the sideline, never missing anything. “Faster, faster”.  And then, “Screen out.  We rebound at Tennessee.”  Everything was intense. This was a preseason practice.  You would have thought it was the finals of the NCAA.  “No lazy passes.  Defense.  More defense.”

And then came the incident that most affected me.  It was a three minute scrimmage. There was a turnover and a fast break.  A player breaking free for a layup.  The other players futilely chasing.

And then the whistle blew. Everyone froze and looked at the coach.  She walked up to one of her players who was way behind the play and had no chance of stopping it.  She gave the player the stare from inches away.

The gym was completely silent.  “You quit running.  You cannot play at Tennessee if you don’t hustle every play.  You have to give your best every second.  Go sit down.”  I felt sorry for the girl.  I learned it was her first year.  A hard way to learn a lesson.  A great teaching moment for the whole team.

I sure learned something.  A preseason practice on a simple scrimmage on a play that was pretty much over.  It made me understand why Pat’s teams won over a thousand games.  High standards.  Intense commitment.  And never, ever less than your best.

You want to play at a slower, casual pace?  Not here.  Go somewhere else.  Great basketball lesson.  Better life lesson.

We left soon after to meet my wife and son.  I wish I had been able to speak to Coach Summitt.  To thank her.  To tell her we were maybe kin.  Maybe fourth cousins.  But I proudly claim that shared blood with Pat Summitt. My cousin who taught me a lot.  And I smile to think about Coach Summitt going to heaven last week and meeting my mother.  Who will explain how they are related.

A lot of you probably nodded your head at Coach Summitt’s coaching style.  Agreed completely.  I hope you bring the same commitment to church.  Where we sometimes sing,  “Give of your best to the master…Jesus has set the example…Give Him the best that you have.”  If we can give our best to basketball and football, can’t we do a little better with God?  Our best.  Every second.