Don Haskins, an American original
BILL KNIGHT | El Paso Times
This is a mini-play in three mini-acts, a tribute to Don Haskins, an American original ... a man who was fiercely independent, fiercely competitive, fiercely loyal, fiercely generous ... who was simply fierce.
He was a Bear of a man who ate up life, who could pierce the coldest of souls with those ice blue eyes, who could make the room shake with his laughter. He was a man who loved life, a man who truly lived life.
The big man stalked across the stage, bent by age but still somehow fierce. He wears a plaid shirt, jeans, boots and, on this special occasion, a black cowboy hat. He reached the bar, sprawled onto the stool and the man behind the bar slid him a shot of tequila. He turns to face the audience and said, "Hey ... how ya doin'?"
He paused, took a sip of his drink and said in his deep gravelly voice, "My name is Don ... Haskins. I used to coach a little basketball. We had a lot of good players, a lot of good guys and we had some pretty good teams. We had one that won it all. Some say we made history. I don't know. I'll leave that to the historians. But that was a hell of a team. Nearly drove me crazy. But it was a fun ride. The whole thing was a fun ride."
The curtain opens and two shirtless high school boys are playing one-on-one basketball under the hot sun – one white, one black.
Donald Lee Haskins was a handful, running around Enid, Okla. He grew up hunting and fishing and playing ball. As a young boy, he would slip into the high school gym at night and shoot baskets by the moonlight. He fell in love there, a love affair with basketball that lasted a lifetime.
We went to get a drink of water once and I'll never forget that sign that said, 'Colored only.' We couldn't even drink out of the same fountain. I don't think I ever saw color again after that.
Don Haskins
Haskins was a star in high school, getting more scholarship offers than he cared to count. But his friend, Herman Carr, was just as good. And no one knew. Haskins was white, Carr was black. The two played one-on-one in the heat of the Oklahoma sun, competing and laughing and loving the game. But they went to different high schools in those ugly days of segregation.
"We went to get a drink of water once and I'll never forget that sign that said, 'Colored only'," Haskins said, shaking his head. "We couldn't even drink out of the same fountain. I don't think I ever saw color again after that. When we graduated from high school, I went to Oklahoma A&M on scholarship and Herman went into the Army. Never understood that. Herman was a great player, but he wasn't good enough for college basketball. But, he was good enough for Korea."
Haskins went to Oklahoma A&M and met the other love of his life, his wife-to-be, Mary. The two were a match made in Hollywood ... he the hot-tempered, fierce young man and she the beautiful, calm woman with a soul of gold. They fit.
The curtain opens and a young Haskins is barking orders to his young players in Memorial Gym. They focus on defense. And defense. And defense. They begin to think this game does not even have a ball. Just move your feet, stay between your man and the basket. It is not for the timid.
The year is 1966 and Lyndon Johnson is in the White House and Vietnam is hovering there, striking fear into the young, and race relations are raw. This is Haskins' fifth Miner team and he knows he has put together something special. Don and Mary spent six years in little Texas towns – Benjamin, Hedley and Dumas – before reaching El Paso and Texas Western College.
Texas Western College and UTEP head coach Don Haskins
watches the action during the 1966 NCAA game against Kentucky.
ASSOCIATED PRESS FILE
Every year since he and Mary pulled up with that trailer, their belongings and their boys, has been good. The first season was 16-8, the next 19-7, the 1963-64 season was 25-3, then it was 16-9. The Miners had gone to the NCAA tournament in 1962-63 and 1963-64, and to the NIT in 1964-65. They were good years – just not good enough for the possessed, fiercely competitive young coach.
The season races on and the Miners collect win after win after win. They dismantled No. 4 Iowa in Memorial Gym. They ripped rival New Mexico State twice. They survived a close call or two. Finally, on the final night of the regular season, they got a little too cocky and they lost at Seattle. But they jumped right into the NCAA tournament and won – first Oklahoma City, then Cincinnati, then Kansas, then Utah.
And that brought Kentucky. And history.
Haskins laughed that laugh later. He remembered the plane ride home.
"I spent the whole time on the flight home worrying about next year," he said.
The curtain opens and Haskins sits in his home, two televisions and the radio blaring ... following three games at once during his retirement from the game he fell in love with all those years ago in Oklahoma. He follows former UTEP coach Billy Gillispie's team on one television, former UTEP coach Doc Sadler's team on another and he is listening to the current UTEP team on the radio.
This big, larger-than-life man, this Bear in Winter, still breathes basketball.
We did it about 12 or 13 times and I said, 'OK, that's the best I've got' and walked off.
Don Haskins
He has enjoyed his ride through college basketball and he is enjoying his retirement and he is enjoying the fruits of his gifted labors. He has been given the ultimate honor, induction into the Naismith Memorial Basketball Hall of Fame. He has enjoyed all the reunions with that band of championship brothers from 1966. He enjoyed very much being around the making of the Disney movie "Glory Road."
Producer Jerry Bruckheimer had to almost beg Haskins to do that cameo role as the gas station attendant. Haskins, always the private man, declined. Finally, he gave in.
"We did it about 12 or 13 times and I said, OK, that's the best I've got and walked off," Haskins said, laughing.
Shortly after, Haskins received a healthy check in the mail for his performance and he asked Bruckheimer, "Got any more parts for me?"
Laughter. Long, loud, deep, very real laughter.
Former head coach Don Haskins and his wife Mary Haskins sit in the front row of the mid-day screening of "Glory Road," the movie based on the 1966 NCAA National Championship team
that defeated the kentucky Wildcats. Show less
BRIAN KANOF/SPECIAL TO THE TIMES
Don and Mary loved life together and Haskins ate up his retirement ... just as he ate up life. He did not get around so good anymore. Occasionally, he would drive his truck out into the desert and use his old coyote call. The Bear in Winter did not shoot them anymore. He just called them ... just enjoyed the simple pleasure of it all.
He was fierce and he was intimidating and he was funny. He challenged his players every day of their scholarship and they always loved him when it was done. He reached the Hall of Fame, he helped make history, he reached legendary status. He was John Wayne as a college basketball coach. He was one of a kind. He was an American original.
The curtain opens and the old man sits at the bar, gazing out into the audience.
Pretty good ride. Pretty good ride. We won a lot of games because we had a lot of great players. They were special. All of 'em. Those who played and those who didn't.
Don Haskins
"Pretty good ride," he said. "Pretty good ride. We won a lot of games because we had a lot of great players. They were special. All of 'em. Those who played and those who didn't."
He paused and glared out into the audience ... those eyes still fierce and competitive and always looking like he got the joke and you did not. It was pin-drop quiet.
Finally, he said, "Pretty good, huh. Like I said, I'll let the historians decide all their stuff. But we had a bunch of kids who just played basketball better than anyone in the nation – black or white or polka-dot. They won a championship that has become legendary."
Pause.
"They won a championship and they are getting a curtain call for a lifetime. And beyond."
He took the final sip of his drink, slid the glass down the bar and said, "Thank ya, Jose."
They won a championship and they are getting a curtain call for a lifetime. And beyond.
Don Haskins
The old man got off the stool, touched the brim of his hat in salute and said, "Adios."
He stalked off the stage as the lights fade to black.
Bill Knight may be reached at 546-6171; bknight@elpasotimes.com; @BillKnightept on Twitter.
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