Coaching Philosophy

The Origin

Where the Philosophy Came From

I grew up in a small town in Kentucky. The kind of small town where the gym was open from 6:00 a.m. until the janitor kicked you out, and where my father taught me that there were two acceptable ways to play basketball: hard, and harder.

I went to law school after that, which sounds like a detour but really wasn't. Law school teaches you to think in frameworks — to find the principle that resolves a thousand specific cases instead of memorizing all thousand cases. That's exactly how I came to coach basketball.

I served in the U.S. Army Reserve until my honorable discharge in 2014. The military taught me about leadership in a way no clinic ever did: you train hard, you train your people harder, and when the situation gets ugly, the work you put in beforehand is what saves you. That's coaching too.

The 2011 state title my team won — running my variation of the Princeton Offense — wasn't because I had the best players. It was because we played a system the other teams couldn't scout, we executed under pressure, and the kids believed in each other enough to trust the read.

The Three Pillars

Pillar 1: Teach Reads, Not Plays

Plays are a crutch. They work in October, get scouted by January, and break by February. Reads — the ability to recognize what the defense is giving you and respond — work for a lifetime. Every offense I've written about (Princeton, Dribble Drive, Spurs motion, Multiple Option) is at its core a read-based system. The X's and O's vary. The principle doesn't.

If a player leaves my program able to read the game, I've done my job. I can't say the same if they can run all 23 of my set plays.

Pillar 2: Toughness Beats Talent on Bad Nights

Every team has bad nights. The shots don't fall, the calls don't go your way, the bus broke down on the way to the gym. On those nights, talent loses to toughness every single time.

Toughness is coachable. It isn't a personality trait you're born with. You build it through reps — diving for loose balls in practice when nobody's watching, finishing through contact in drills, holding the line on defense even when you're tired. That's why my book on youth ball-toughness exists. Start the habit early and it sticks.

Pillar 3: Respect the Game and the People In It

I've been the kid in the gym at 6:00 a.m. I've been the law student trying to figure out what to do next. I've been the soldier and the coach and the writer. The thread through all of it is respect — for the work, for the people across from you, for the game itself.

Coach kids the way you'd want your kid coached. Run the offense the way a pro coach would respect. Talk to officials, opposing coaches, and parents like adults. The wins follow when the standard is high enough on those things.

What I Don't Believe In

• Yelling as a coaching tool. If you have to yell to be heard, your players have already stopped listening.
• Running plays from the NBA. NBA spacing assumes elite shooting. High schoolers shoot 30%. Different game.
• Punishing mistakes. Punish lack of effort. Coach mistakes.
• The "we play the right way" cliché. Everyone says it. Almost nobody defines it. Define it for your team or don't say it.

What I Tell My Players

"I hope I can be a small part of your journey."

I mean it. I'm not the main character in any of my players' stories. I'm a chapter, maybe two. The goal isn't to make the chapter longer than it should be — it's to leave the kid better than I found him: as a player, as a thinker, and as a person who knows what hard work looks like.

If You're Coaching Now

Pick a system. Drill it daily. Teach the reads, not the plays. Build toughness on purpose, not by accident. Respect the people in the gym. The wins follow.

If any of that resonates, the books are on Amazon. They're the long-form version of everything on this page.