He's Not Fred Hoiberg, But. . .

People here in Iowa love Fred Hoiberg.

After all, what's not to love? He's a local boy with a great story - talented high school basketball player works hard to become a great college basketball player in the state, followed by a solid NBA career and front office job. As if that weren't enough, he returns to his home town, in his home state, to lead his alma mater as coach to consistent greatness on the hardwood floor, all while appearing unflappably and constantly in control of all around him.

The Fred Hoiberg bandwagon has lengthened it's journey to a national tour, with commentators from all corners singing his praises and suggesting he could name his pick of a job, any job, he wants. And how does he respond? He makes commercials for charity in which he breakdances, multiplying by powers of ten the fawning adoration of the Cyclone faithful.

Fred Hoiberg is a good coach. Though not a Cyclone fan, I can recognize and appreciate that fact. He is one of many great coaches who gain deserved national attention for their hard work, attention to detail, discipline, and leadership. Ben Jacobson, at the helm of my beloved Panthers, is another. I want to write today, however, about one who isn't on ESPN today.

I've been co-coaching my daughter's first year of basketball in a 1st-2nd grade girls rec league. The season, has been, well, full of stories. I've enjoyed the experience, challenges and all, and so has my daughter. That is a win.

But some nights I just don't have it. We usually practice at 7 pm on Thursdays, and after two weeks of many late nights working on home renovation, I showed up to practice this week tired. Worn down. Perhaps, dare we say, irritable?

I just didn't have the energy to carry practice. I was positive, but not enthusiastic. I was teaching, but not with passion. And realistically, I had little patience for the wandering attention span of particularly my own daughter and her seeming search for butterflies and rainbows, despite the practice being held at an indoor court at night.

Fortunately for me, fortunately for the girls, and fortunately for my daughter, my fellow coach was there. For someone who likes control as much as I do, the idea of "co-coaching" is difficult and one I hesitate to agree to. In this scenario, however, with someone who has been a long-time friend and for whom I have a great deal of respect, I knew the experience would be positive. This week I recognized just how necessary it was.

This guy, who will probably never be on Sportscenter or Gameday (though who perhaps may be starring in a few obscure impromptu dancing videos if the right camera phone at the right local establishment were recording), who few outside this community would recognize, is one of the best coaches I know. And he is so because his energy-level is unchanging. I had an off-night, a tired night on Thursday in which he picked me up. I've never seen him have an off-night. I've never seen someone have to pick up his end of the passion, his end of the positive, his end of the energy for the game and the kids. I've never seen him tired. I'm sure he has been: he just doesn't let it affect his time with kids, whether those are high school varsity athletes or a group of 1st and 2nd grade girls who at times want a drink more than they want anything else in the gym.

This guy is no Fred Hoiberg. He doesn't have to be. All he is, is the best coach my daughter has had the opportunity to work with.

In all that is wrong about youth athletics, in all that is wrong about the altar of sports that we too often find ourselves worshiping, coaches like this are exactly what's right. And I am a grateful parent.