When a beloved series comes to an end, it is an epochal moment. I can think of
M*A*S*H,
Cheers,
Seinfeld and now
Friday Night Lights.
Inspired by the book written by H.G. "Buzz" Bissinger (follow him on twitter:
@buzzbissinger), then the movie adaptation by Brian Grazer,
Peter Berg and David Nevins,
Friday Night Lights eventually became a
Peabody Award winning television show produced by Peter Berg whose idea of letting the camera follow the actor around to capture real moments gave the show a sense of authenticity that often moved those of us watching it to tears.
Coach Eric Taylor, played by
Kyle Chandler, was the mainstay through
Friday Night Lights' five-season run that featured stars such as
Minka Kelly,
Adrianne Palicki,
Taylor Kitsch,
Michael B. Jordan and my personal favorite,
Brad Leland. Coach Taylor's philosophy was centered on the mantra
Clear Eyes, Full Hearts, Can't Lose! A profound concept tested again and again on and off the field. From the first season when star QB Jason Street suffers a paralyzing injury, to Smash Williams blowing out his knee, to Matt Saracen's struggle taking on the role of man-of-the-house much too soon, to the Riggins brothers run in with the law and finally to Vince Howard's life on the street, the absence of a father figure and the willingness of Coach Taylor to accept that awesome responsibility was brilliantly underscored in his words to Vince before State, "I doubt you will ever know how proud I am of you."
Like great coaches in real life, the foundation for Coach Taylor's philosophy was hard work. He dedicated himself and his team to preparedness, but it was only when his players hit the wall, when they were confronted by adversity, when they were hopeless, that we actually saw his greatness. It was then that he reminded them he had their back and that together they would get through it. His faith in them was unwavering. Once they earned his trust, it was theirs forever. That was the bargain. That was the lesson he taught them about becoming a man: stand your ground, believe in yourself, trust the ones you love and you will never fail.
That alone is worthy of a Peabody, but Peter Berg delved deeper. Surely Coach Taylor had his doubts. Surely he himself was confronted with the same decisions as his players. Who did he turn to for answers? Where did he find his confidence? His coach was his wife, his biggest fan, Tami Taylor, played exquisitely by
Connie Britton. In the series finale she finally gets her due when her husband pleads for her to take him along this time. Then, in his biggest game, nervous with anticipation, Coach Taylor turns to the crowd and finds Tami pointing back at him as if to say
Clear Eyes, Full Hearts, Can't Lose!
Is it any coincidence that legendary basketball coach Bobby Hurley's wife, Chris, has kept score for St. Anthony of Jersey City, N.J., for 25 years? Bobby Hurley was profiled on
60 Minutes on March 24 and the questions he was asked were the same ones he's answered before, but that are still hard to fathom: Why did you stay put? Why not cash in at the college level? How do you produce a state champion when your school doesn't even have a gym?
Bobby Hurley is already enshrined in the Basketball Hall of Fame in Springfield, Massachusetts. He is already acknowledged by the greatest coaches in the game as being the best, so after 40 years, why does he continue?
Let's look at his practices. He's a hard-nosed coach, tough on his kids, some say old-fashioned. He speaks to his players the way men speak to each other on the construction site, in the kitchen, on the beat, in the heat of a fire. He demands his players sign a contract and play by his rules, he admits there are 19 of them now. Why does Bobby Hurley ask so much? Maybe that's the price of his trust and players that earn it become champions. What greater lesson can a coach give and what greater way to underscore it than by leading his team to the pinnacle or in Bobby Hurley's case, leading his boys on their journeys to becoming men.
I think the real reason he sticks around can be seen in the conclusion of the
60 Minutes piece when the camera follows Bobby while he is teaching his grandson to put a tiny basketball through a tiny basket and it captures the wonder in his eyes, the old coach seeing it again for the first time.
The love of the game is what life's all about and it's hard to mention it without conjuring up images of the late
Jim Valvano. From his epochal speech at the ESPYs to the fanatic joy on his face when his Wolfpack won the National Championship in 1983, Coach V was an inspiration. Hard to believe he was only 37 when he won the tournament and even harder to believe he died just 10 years later.
Another Final Four is set to tip off tomorrow with two outstanding young coaches, Shaka Smart of Virginia Commonwealth University, age 33, and Brad Stevens of Butler, age 34. I wonder what their faces will look like if they lead their teams to victory. And, if so, how will they manage their success?
It's easy to see that work ethic, intelligence and experience make a great coach or a great leader, but I think humility is also needed. How could they truly understand what it takes to win unless they knew what it takes to lose? How could they lead others to success without understanding failure? My guess is they do know both sides, but are probably not driven by either. My guess is that they measure success by whether or not they did everything they could to drive those in their care to be the best they could be. I think the great ones hold themselves to a standard they would never hold their players to and that gives them the final element of greatness, compassion.
If you ask a United States Marine about
Chesty Puller, you'd better pull up a chair as there probably is no more beloved figure in their proud history or a more decorated one for that matter. One of my Dad's favorites about Chesty took place at the island of Pavuvu after the Marines took Guadalcanal. The enlisted men were gathering for a hot meal, the first in a long time, when word spread among them to take a look at the back of the line and there was Lieutenant Colonel Puller with his mess gear in hand.
The burden of leadership is heavy and its responsibility is unrelenting. Not many people would sign up for it and not everyone that signs up for it does so for the right reasons. Maybe that's why the good ones set examples that become immortal to us.
The bad ones? They leave a wake of destruction in their path like a tornado, an earthquake or a tsunami. They are natural disasters void of conscience. Even when the city is ablaze and the rebels draw near, or the firm is seized and the press is mobbed outside the door, their only concern is how it might reflect on them and so they call for a stylist.
