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What you see is what you get with Jazz's Sloan Unpretentious and disciplined, coach won't hesitate to let his players know who's boss By FRAN BLINEBURY Copyright 2007 Houston Chronicle April 26, 2007, 1:34AM Some people, it is said, are an open book. Jerry Sloan doesn't even have a cover. "I'm just another guy," he said with a shrug while stretching his arms out and turning his palms up. "What's to know?" There's plenty to know about the head coach or manager with more longevity than other in American professional sports. But none of it's very complicated or far from the roots of Sloan, who grew up on a farm in southern Illinois. "As a guy, he's kind of that laid back, Midwestern piece of red meat, a boat-on-the-lake-and-a-beer-in-hand-and-he's-happy type," veteran guard Derek Fisher said. As a coach, Sloan simply believes in sinking his teeth into that red meat and never letting go. Competitive by nature With all of the games he has coached for the Utah Jazz (1,724) in 19 seasons and all of the victories (1,035), which have moved him into fourth place on the NBA's all-time list ─ behind Lenny Wilkens, Don Nelson and Pat Riley ─ you can ask Sloan for a favorite memory, and it won't be anything that happened under the bright lights of a crowded arena. "In 19 years, John Stockton never once lost a suicide drill in practice," Sloan said. "Well, there was one day. He was sick. But he still ran it. That's the important thing. "John didn't need all the attention that comes with making All-Star teams or getting his name into headlines. He just liked to play basketball. He just loved to compete." Which is a line the 65-year-old Sloan could have printed on his business card, if he believed in carrying such a thing. Consistent to a fault For 18 seasons, Stockton and Karl Malone were the on-court extensions of Sloan's own personality, a pair of Hall of Famers who shared their coach's mentality for showing up every day and doing their jobs. They twice went to the NBA Finals, losing to Michael Jordan and the Chicago Bulls in 1997 and 1998. "Were we disappointed that we didn't win those?" Sloan said. "Sure, but I didn't feel bad. If you go and you play and you put everything into it, there's never any reason to feel bad. "Hell, John and Karl would have liked to have won as much as anybody that ever played the game. But you have to be realistic and fair and honest about it. There's another team that's pretty good, too. That's just the way it is. "To me, the toughest part is not the losing. It's coming back after you've lost and seeing who you are then. That's the most critical thing to me. A lot of guys say, 'Oh, well, I tried. It's not quite as important anymore.' I just want to know if you're gonna work as hard today and tomorrow. That's all I care about." He has been criticized at times by Jazz fans for being unbending, unchanging, single-minded. But it never shows in that soft, away-from-the-court voice that has the slightest hint of a drawl. "What can you do about it?" Sloan asked. "Go on and play. That's all I know. The only thing they can do is fire you. That happens a lot in our business. They can't cut your arms and legs off. I've just been blessed from that standpoint. I lost 56 games two years ago and didn't get fired." That was the bottoming out in the post-Stockton-and-Malone era, when free-agent signee Carlos Boozer missed 49 games in his second season with the Jazz, the year they also signed Mehmet Okur, one season before they drafted point guard Deron Williams. The trio is now the core of the franchise, which returned to the playoffs after a three-year absence. The Jazz's Larry Miller is one of the most publicly visible, temperamental, emotional owners in the NBA, which might make it all the more surprising that he hasn't wavered on Sloan. "If he doesn't get Coach of the Year this year, there's something wrong," Miller said before the award went to Toronto's Sam Mitchell. "Hell, that's the kiss of death," Sloan said, grinning. "They give that to you, and then they usually fire you a year or two later." From the days when Frank Layden laid the foundation for the franchise in Salt Lake City and Sloan was his assistant, the Jazz always have had the head coach as the center of their universe and sought players who could fit in. Phil Johnson was named Coach of the Year in 1974-75 with the Kansas City-Omaha Kings but has spent more than two decades as Sloan's right- hand man in Chicago and Utah. "People always ask me what's changed over the years," Johnson said. "We all evolve. We matured. But the major things have not changed with Jerry. His consistency is probably the key to all of his success. "The basic philosophy and premise of how we want to play and how we want players to act, both on and off the court, has not changed." Players come and go Sloan married Bobbye, his high school sweetheart, and buried her 43 years later. He missed only a handful of games when her cancer was diagnosed for the second time in January 2004. Coaching was his escape. Now he has a new marriage and the same principles. There have been players through the years who have not been able to cope with Sloan's philosophy and personality, and they have moved on. There are some on his current team who might find him more prickly than a cactus. But they comply because they know he is genuine and know he can make them win. "By far, the strictest coach I've ever had," the 22-year-old Williams said. "I don't think I'll ever get used to it. But it is what it is. What can you do? He's the boss man." Fisher played in Los Angeles for Phil Jackson, who portrays himself as something of a mystic philosopher, before experiencing Sloan. "It's only 180 degrees in their outward styles," Fisher said. "That's the only place they differ. In terms of the want and the desire to win, having basic principles related to basketball that they believe in ─ that if you don't do, you're just not gonna play ─ they're almost the same." Andrei Kirilenko is in his sixth year playing for Sloan and breaks into a wide smile while shaking his head at the same time. Kirilenko has had a difficult time fitting in all season and his emotional breakdown at Sunday's practice has generated attention. But he doesn't point a finger. "Jerry is who Jerry is," he said. "His mentality is the same not only on the floor, but off the floor. He wants to control everything we do, even outside of basketball. Sometimes that's wrong. But it's who he is. "I have never played for anyone else in the NBA. But I've seen different types succeeed. In Europe, I have played for coaches who wouldn't care if you got drunk, as long as you step on the floor and do the job. "At home in Russia, most of the coaches are like this, kind of hard-headed, disciplined. They want to control every step of players, treat you like a kid sometimes. For me, it is not a big transition.'' Most of his players will go on to tell you what they like about playing for Sloan is that, at the core, all he expects of them is to be responsible and act like men. That ethic comes from being one of 10 farm kids raised by a single mother in McLeansboro, Ill., where Sloan rose at 4:30 a.m. to do his chores, walked 1 1/2 miles, then hitchhiked the rest of the way to school so he could arrive for 7 a.m. basketball practice. It's the same guy who, as a young NBA player with the Chicago Bulls, arrived at 4:30 p.m. for a home game, had his ankles taped and was sitting fully dressed in uniform at his locker when head coach Dick Motta arrived at the arena. Motta told Sloan to get a hobby. He gets the message Now, Sloan can listen to the home crowd loudly boo his team, as occurred during a dismal 126-98 loss to Phoenix when the Jazz were in their end-of-season swoon, and empathize ─ with the fans. "I've always felt if they boo, they have a right to boo you," Sloan said. "They're trying to tell you something. They expect more. I've argued with players on that for years, even in my playing days. "To me, that's when you find out what you're made of. If they boo, you can curl into the fetal position and say, 'I'm not supposed to be booed. I'm this, and I'm that.' Or you can do something about it." Sloan leaned back and smiled. "Of course," he said, "I've always been a little different." fran.blinebury@chron.com http://www.chron.com/disp/story.mpl/sports/4750174.html -- ※ 發信站: 批踢踢實業坊(ptt.cc) ◆ From: 59.42.98.121
ammon: boat-on-the-lake-and-a-beer-in-hand-and-he's-happy type 05/11 15:29
HornyJazz:suicide drill? 05/11 16:21
jonrsx: 灸燉恨 何時滅!! 05/11 16:54
CarlosBoozer:這篇值得細細品味 (意思是可以求翻譯嗎 XD) 05/11 17:02
jasonshu:suicide drill 就是在籃球場上折返衝刺的練習 超累 05/11 18:23