Reflections On Dean Smith

By Larry Stone, President of Stonecom

He held the hand of a little girl, I assumed his daughter, as they walked down the long corridor of the Frank Porter Graham Student Union.

An unsophisticated freshman from North Wilkesboro opened the door of the Student Union in the fall of 1988 on his way to the Daily Tar Heel, Chapel Hill’s student newspaper.

Opening the door, I spotted the man.

The man I had seen on sidelines every Wednesday night and Saturday afternoon. The man who had finally won the big one when I was 12. The man, whose picture stared at me every morning as I grew up, his stern face pictured on a North Carolina basketball poster.

Dean Smith. Walking toward me.

“Hi, how are you doing,” he said.

No one else was around except for the little girl. Just me. I vaguely remember saying, “Hi, Coach Smith.” But today, I cannot tell you for sure if I said it, mumbled it, thought it, or wished I had said it.

I just walked by Coach Smith.

For as long as I can remember, I was a North Carolina basketball fan.

My plastic light blue jacket stood as a favorite childhood gift and a constant companion growing up in Raleigh.

The University of North Carolina was the only school I ever wanted to attend, in fact, it was the only school to which I applied. And Coach Smith deserves a lot of that credit.

Nine years later, I was the producer for the Tar Heel Sports Network as Coach Smith approached win number 877, the most wins in college basketball history at that time. The long-time “Voice of the Tar Heels” Woody Durham said in a production meeting, “we need to do something for that.”

We got to work on “something.” We did not have a clear view of what “something” would be. We just got busy. Color Analyst Mick Mixon, the best friend a man could have, remembers that I was the one who said we need to make this a documentary on Coach Smith…a 60-minute or two-hour special.

If I did (and I do not remember making that statement) it was clearly a case of youthful exuberance.

How could I tell the story of Coach Smith’s career? How could I chronicle his life on the court? What expertise could I possibly bring to the project?

Oh yes…and we didn’t have much time. Win number 877 could come during the tournament – and that was almost here. And of course, we hadn’t planned anything.

Turned out, the work was easy. Because the men who played for Dean Smith told his story. The players brought the expertise. The former Tar Heels would chronicle the career.

All I needed was a lot of tape. And the ability to edit it down.

They talked about the games. They talked about the comebacks. They mentioned the calm demeanor in the huddle. For a few minutes.

Then, they got down to the emotion. What Coach Smith meant to them. How he stood behind them long after they could ever suit up as a Tar Heel. They gushed about his willingness to be interrupted at any time, any moment for a phone call or a visit. Parents remembered. Mom’s birthdays. Kids’ names.

Doesn’t seem fair that dementia could take all that away.

And these were not all James Worthys or Charlie Scotts. The guys who barely played. The stars. They all shared the same experience.

A lot of late nights….a few Boston Market chicken sandwiches…and a thousand laughs with Mick, later…..the special 877 aired on. It was a Saturday afternoon in 1997 from Winston Salem, following the Tar Heels’ second round win in the NCAA Tournament. It celebrated the career of Coach Smith and what he had meant to so many players….and so many fans, like me.

I was proud of the work. But in broadcasting, you are on to the next thing and for us, that was the second weekend of the NCAA Tournament. I would see wins 878 and 879 before the Tar Heels fell in the National Semi Finals to Arizona at the RCA Dome.

The memorable season complete. And so was my job. I was on the way to Tennessee to begin work on my doctorate – and, though I didn’t know it at the time – begin work on the Tennessee Oilers Radio Network as the NFL arrived inTennessee.

As I was preparing to leave that summer, a letter arrived. It was from the University of North Carolina Basketball Office. As I opened it, I had no idea what would be inside.

Coach Smith had listened to the show on a summer drive – and wanted to thank us for the work on the show. He mentioned that the memories gave him goosebumps as he listened. Blue ink. Signed by Coach Smith. A hand-written “Thanks Larry” across the bottom.

It hangs on my office wall as one of my most treasured career possessions. For him, it was simply how he operated….a common courtesy. For me, the life-long Tar Heel fan who loved the Tar Heels, that simple thing meant so much more.

Saturday afternoon, I watched about an hour of college basketball, including the finish to North Carolina’s win overBoston College. Multiple games…similar situations played out, to the point that I nearly posted to Facebook. I couldn’t believe what I was watching.

Few players today can make free throws. The key word is FREE. You are being given a free chance to score points because an opponent fouled you. Warren Martin, I remember, as one of the poorest North Carolina free throw shooters I ever saw – and I think he would be top ten percent today among players.

Then, there’s the last two minutes of a tight college game today – and the inability to play situational basketball. Down three…..hoist a three. Down four….throw up a three point prayer. Down five….got to shoot a no chance, falling down, off balance three point shot. You could work it inside and score six or eight points off easy two pointers.

Can you imagine Dean Smith – the best situational basketball coach ever – would have reacted to these scenarios?

When I heard the news this morning of his death, I thought back to 15 hours earlier and my disbelief at the basketball I was watching.

Made me realize just how much Dean Smith meant to my love of the game. My love of the Tar Heels. My love of the state I grew up in.

And as ultra-competitive as he was, as tireless a student of the game he was, he also understood the place basketball – and sports overall – should hold in the society. Today, our sports-culture has almost become a sickness.

How sad Coach Smith would no doubt be at a society where 17-year old football-may-bes hold the world at bay, breathless, deciding which color hat to put on their head to begin what might or might not be a memorable career.

How would Coach Smith scowl at hourly breaking news reports about the rate of inflation…..of footballs?

Sports is a means…it’s not the end-all. It’s a game. No more. No less. That message was one he sent to every player who suited up in the blue and white. Former Tar Heel Brad Daugherty said Sunday morning that Coach Smith told him when he arrived on campus, “You may become a good basketball player here,” Daugherty remembered, “You will get a world-class education.”

Sports is simply a means to a much bigger life.

The world lost so much more than a basketball coach Saturday night. And though I never spent more than 60 minutes in his company, I feel like I lost someone close to me today.

Maybe I can find the voice that I didn’t have that day in 1988 at the student union.

Goodbye, Coach Smith.