http://www.sacbee.com/content/sports/basketball/kings/story/14003365p-14836443c.html
Talking and teaching as long as he can
For decades, people have emulated Pete Carril's style of basketball, and he's still helping players and coaches
By Joe Davidson -- Bee Staff Writer
Published 2:15 am PST Wednesday, December 21, 2005
Pete Carril doesn't walk, he shuffles.
He doesn't talk, he coaches. Carril at 75 is still it, with two cones, three willing bodies and a ball. He's equal parts cuddly Yoda and proven hoops counsel.
His Princeton principles - passing, cutting, thinking, trusting - can be seen in various forms across the country, at all levels. It's what gave his Princeton teams a chance against the college heavies for 29 seasons, all without the benefit of scholarships. It's what helped get the Kings off the canvas when he arrived 10 seasons ago. It's what the Kings cling to now as they struggle to find their proper footing.
And it's what will garner a man already in the Hall of Fame another honor tonight.
Carril will receive the Pete Newell Challenge Career Achievement Award during the annual four-team college basketball tournament in Oakland. It's to recognize Carril's body of basketball work, the Princeton years when he gave hope to all the underdogs, his tenure as a Kings assistant and/or adviser. For being Carril, period. And typical Carril, he'll aw-shucks his way through the whole thing.
"I've had my day in the sun," he said. "When I came into the NBA, I didn't want anymore recognition. It takes away from the other people here. It's not my time anymore."
He's wrong there. As long as he's in the game, it'll be his time. He explains to Kings' youngsters such as Kevin Martin that the NBA isn't supposed to be easy, that for the salmon to get back to Point A, they first have to clear the bears.
And when will the coach know his message doesn't sink anymore?
"When the gleam in their eye isn't there anymore," Carril said. "As long as it is, I'll stay with it. Otherwise, I don't go where I'm not wanted."
He's still wanted.
"One of the greatest people I'll ever know," Martin said. "He has that something. You hear about it, that something from special people, and he has it."
Which is why Newell selected Carril for the honor.
"He's a real icon in this sport," said Newell, who is also in the basketball Hall of Fame. "His style sets him apart, and it still stands the test of time - the fundamentals, the movement, the screening, the team play. He's always done it the right way, the way it's supposed to be done."
"You can never stop learning with Coachie," Kings shooter Peja Stojakovic said. "And he's more than just basketball. He knows a lot about everything. Ever hear some of his stories?"
Jerry Reynolds has. Reynolds, the Kings' director of player personnel, has become close to Carril through the years, with both explaining every man needs a rabbi. They talk hoops, war, life's twists and turns, often on long walks during road trips.
Mostly, they talk hoops.
"He is basketball, one of the last real old-school guys left," Reynolds said. "And I've heard all his stories. If I've heard one before, (and Carril begins to repeat the story,) I hold up two fingers. But you never get tired of them."
Carril reached the Hall of Fame with 525 collegiate victories, 13 Ivy League titles and 11 NCAA Tournament appearances. He was the trademark figure in the rumpled Princeton sweater and bow tie, for nearly toppling top-seeded Georgetown in the 1989 NCAA Tournament, for downing defending national champion UCLA in his final victory, in 1996 on his trademark back-door pass in the closing seconds. But his best team? A surprise. He once had a 25-1 high school team in Pennsylvania.
"Lost in the state eastern finals," Carril said. "I can't remember them dropping one pass the whole year. They were as precise as can be, and three of them were special education students, so the idea of playing for Carril was that you had to be smart. Well, I don't know. You have to be willing. That is the key. If you're willing, you'll accept learning, changing, listening, watching."
Carril has one regret tonight. He can't reach for his favorite cigar to toast the event, though he's tempted.
Can't touch 'em anymore, doctor's orders. They want to keep Carril upright, so he can reach 80 and then 85, especially after his heart-attack scare five years ago that might have proven fatal had Kings trainer Pete Youngman not come across him in the upper offices at Arco Arena.
He survived it, vowing to still sample his beloved wines - nectar of the gods, he likes to say - and he reports of pretty good health.
That he's even here is a surprise even to Carril. He never anticipated being on the Kings' bench this long. He's here because of Kings president of basketball operations Geoff Petrie. Their relationship started as player-and-coach at Princeton in 1968 and has since evolved into something much deeper. Petrie appreciated how Carril dealt with him in college, a prolific player with flair in a system of structure.
"He's had a huge influence on my life, not just in basketball but in every area," Petrie said. "He forged a sense of how to play, what was important, life issues. We started by butting heads at first. He saw me as the ultimate challenge. I initially saw him as a guy who saw my game differently than I did."
Said Carril: "Then Geoff and I decided to think together. He's very special to me. I thought I'd be here for three years. That's it. It's good to be close to the president of basketball operations."
Petrie and his wife, Anne-Marie, represent Carril's family in Sacramento, not in blood but in connection and loyalty. Carril and Petrie have engaged in many spirited cook-offs, though Carril explained, "He puts me to shame. I tell him I'm the labor union chef and he's the gourmet. But I have one problem when he makes a salad. He throws everything in there, all kinds of different colors. Geez, Geoff. Just put in the onions and the tomatoes and let's eat."
Carril and Petrie used to play tennis, but Carril said he exhausted every excuse after his losses mounted - bad eyes, bad finger, bad angle of the sun.
Divorced for more than a decade, Carril lives alone, in an apartment not too far from Arco. When he has had his fill of basketball - practice, tapes, live TV, paperwork - Carril holes up with a good John Wayne or Clint Eastwood western.
Carril doesn't know when he'll call it a career. Loyalty to Petrie has kept him in Sacramento. He nearly joined Doc Rivers' staff with the Boston Celtics before last season to spend more time with his two children and two grandchildren, who live on the East Coast.
But he returned to the Kings, for what may be his last season.
"I miss my friends, the professors at Princeton, a lot of good people," Carril said. "It could be the end. It depends on how I feel and the sense of the team. When I'm done, I'll know it. I'll be satisfied."
About the writer: The Bee's Joe Davidson can be reached at (916) 321-1280 or jdavidson@sacbee.com.
Talking and teaching as long as he can
For decades, people have emulated Pete Carril's style of basketball, and he's still helping players and coaches
By Joe Davidson -- Bee Staff Writer
Published 2:15 am PST Wednesday, December 21, 2005
Pete Carril doesn't walk, he shuffles.
He doesn't talk, he coaches. Carril at 75 is still it, with two cones, three willing bodies and a ball. He's equal parts cuddly Yoda and proven hoops counsel.
His Princeton principles - passing, cutting, thinking, trusting - can be seen in various forms across the country, at all levels. It's what gave his Princeton teams a chance against the college heavies for 29 seasons, all without the benefit of scholarships. It's what helped get the Kings off the canvas when he arrived 10 seasons ago. It's what the Kings cling to now as they struggle to find their proper footing.
And it's what will garner a man already in the Hall of Fame another honor tonight.
Carril will receive the Pete Newell Challenge Career Achievement Award during the annual four-team college basketball tournament in Oakland. It's to recognize Carril's body of basketball work, the Princeton years when he gave hope to all the underdogs, his tenure as a Kings assistant and/or adviser. For being Carril, period. And typical Carril, he'll aw-shucks his way through the whole thing.
"I've had my day in the sun," he said. "When I came into the NBA, I didn't want anymore recognition. It takes away from the other people here. It's not my time anymore."
He's wrong there. As long as he's in the game, it'll be his time. He explains to Kings' youngsters such as Kevin Martin that the NBA isn't supposed to be easy, that for the salmon to get back to Point A, they first have to clear the bears.
And when will the coach know his message doesn't sink anymore?
"When the gleam in their eye isn't there anymore," Carril said. "As long as it is, I'll stay with it. Otherwise, I don't go where I'm not wanted."
He's still wanted.
"One of the greatest people I'll ever know," Martin said. "He has that something. You hear about it, that something from special people, and he has it."
Which is why Newell selected Carril for the honor.
"He's a real icon in this sport," said Newell, who is also in the basketball Hall of Fame. "His style sets him apart, and it still stands the test of time - the fundamentals, the movement, the screening, the team play. He's always done it the right way, the way it's supposed to be done."
"You can never stop learning with Coachie," Kings shooter Peja Stojakovic said. "And he's more than just basketball. He knows a lot about everything. Ever hear some of his stories?"
Jerry Reynolds has. Reynolds, the Kings' director of player personnel, has become close to Carril through the years, with both explaining every man needs a rabbi. They talk hoops, war, life's twists and turns, often on long walks during road trips.
Mostly, they talk hoops.
"He is basketball, one of the last real old-school guys left," Reynolds said. "And I've heard all his stories. If I've heard one before, (and Carril begins to repeat the story,) I hold up two fingers. But you never get tired of them."
Carril reached the Hall of Fame with 525 collegiate victories, 13 Ivy League titles and 11 NCAA Tournament appearances. He was the trademark figure in the rumpled Princeton sweater and bow tie, for nearly toppling top-seeded Georgetown in the 1989 NCAA Tournament, for downing defending national champion UCLA in his final victory, in 1996 on his trademark back-door pass in the closing seconds. But his best team? A surprise. He once had a 25-1 high school team in Pennsylvania.
"Lost in the state eastern finals," Carril said. "I can't remember them dropping one pass the whole year. They were as precise as can be, and three of them were special education students, so the idea of playing for Carril was that you had to be smart. Well, I don't know. You have to be willing. That is the key. If you're willing, you'll accept learning, changing, listening, watching."
Carril has one regret tonight. He can't reach for his favorite cigar to toast the event, though he's tempted.
Can't touch 'em anymore, doctor's orders. They want to keep Carril upright, so he can reach 80 and then 85, especially after his heart-attack scare five years ago that might have proven fatal had Kings trainer Pete Youngman not come across him in the upper offices at Arco Arena.
He survived it, vowing to still sample his beloved wines - nectar of the gods, he likes to say - and he reports of pretty good health.
That he's even here is a surprise even to Carril. He never anticipated being on the Kings' bench this long. He's here because of Kings president of basketball operations Geoff Petrie. Their relationship started as player-and-coach at Princeton in 1968 and has since evolved into something much deeper. Petrie appreciated how Carril dealt with him in college, a prolific player with flair in a system of structure.
"He's had a huge influence on my life, not just in basketball but in every area," Petrie said. "He forged a sense of how to play, what was important, life issues. We started by butting heads at first. He saw me as the ultimate challenge. I initially saw him as a guy who saw my game differently than I did."
Said Carril: "Then Geoff and I decided to think together. He's very special to me. I thought I'd be here for three years. That's it. It's good to be close to the president of basketball operations."
Petrie and his wife, Anne-Marie, represent Carril's family in Sacramento, not in blood but in connection and loyalty. Carril and Petrie have engaged in many spirited cook-offs, though Carril explained, "He puts me to shame. I tell him I'm the labor union chef and he's the gourmet. But I have one problem when he makes a salad. He throws everything in there, all kinds of different colors. Geez, Geoff. Just put in the onions and the tomatoes and let's eat."
Carril and Petrie used to play tennis, but Carril said he exhausted every excuse after his losses mounted - bad eyes, bad finger, bad angle of the sun.
Divorced for more than a decade, Carril lives alone, in an apartment not too far from Arco. When he has had his fill of basketball - practice, tapes, live TV, paperwork - Carril holes up with a good John Wayne or Clint Eastwood western.
Carril doesn't know when he'll call it a career. Loyalty to Petrie has kept him in Sacramento. He nearly joined Doc Rivers' staff with the Boston Celtics before last season to spend more time with his two children and two grandchildren, who live on the East Coast.
But he returned to the Kings, for what may be his last season.
"I miss my friends, the professors at Princeton, a lot of good people," Carril said. "It could be the end. It depends on how I feel and the sense of the team. When I'm done, I'll know it. I'll be satisfied."
About the writer: The Bee's Joe Davidson can be reached at (916) 321-1280 or jdavidson@sacbee.com.
