My retirement announcement

How and why would you say goodbye to something that has been as important a part of your life for nearly a quarter century as anything you could possibly imagine?

Twenty-two years ago, a neighborhood friend called me and said he needed an assistant basketball coach for a co-ed K/first grade YMCA basketball team. His son was a first grader. My oldest daughter was a kindergartner. I told him he was asking the wrong guy; I had never played organized basketball. I knew less-than-nothing about coaching.

But I was in. That’s what dads do.

And I was hooked.

The following year, my friend’s son was a second grader, so no more co-ed. It was up to me to be a head coach of a bunch of first grade girls. To my utter amazement, the team and I were both pretty good. We won all our games (even though you weren’t supposed to keep score).

Midway through the second grade year, we lost for the first time. That drove me insane. My wife and I went to bed about 11 p.m. that Saturday night. At 11:03, she saw me pulling on my sweats and asked what I was doing.

“I’m going to Barnes and Noble. I need coaching books.”

That night, I purchased Dean Smith’s “Multiple Offenses and Defenses.”

It’s hard to explain how coaching gets into your blood, but I was definitely a type-C. I put coaching high school basketball on my lifetime goals list.

I coached my oldest daughter’s team through all of AAU ball. I also coached my two youngest girls – a year apart – starting in Kindergarten.

When the older group reached high school, there was an opening and I applied for the gig. I didn’t get it. I had no high school coaching experience.

When the second group reached high school, serendipity. The high school varsity job was open again. I applied and didn’t get it again. So I accepted a JV position. I was nothing if not persistent.

The following year, I joined the varsity at Shorecrest High School. That first year, we advanced to State for the first time in school history. Two years later, we trophied at State for the first time ever. There were two girls on that team I had coached since Kindergarten and five since elementary school. Our families had grown incredibly close during AAU ball as we traveled to tournaments in Reno, Vegas, and Hawaii. To share that first-ever State trophy with those kids was an incredible experience.

Then, in 2016, we climbed the mountain. We had had a very challenging season in a lot of ways. After a loss at Districts, our record sat at 12-10. Then we got on a magical run that a coach can only dream about. At Regionals, we beat Franklin-Pierce, 59-24. At State, we beat Washougal by 17, #1-ranked East Valley by 17. In the State championship game, we beat the team that knocked us off at Districts —  Lynden, 49-43 — to claim the first State basketball championship in school history.

We also became the first team in Washington high school history – boys or girls – to win a State Championship with 10 losses. I’m incredibly proud of how our girls came together for that postseason run. I guess that means I suck as a regular season coach.

I am humbled that my peers in the Washington State Girls Coaching Association named me 2A State Coach of the Year.

Other than family experiences, the 2012 and 2016 State runs rank among my most exhilarating life events.

So why am I walking away?

My radio show takes up about 60 hours a week. Hosting Seahawks pre-and-post takes about 15. Coaching takes about 30. My doc said a decade of 100-hour weeks was about nine years too many. My wife would agree.

For the first time in my coaching-life, I wasn’t positive I could give 100 percent. The 6 a.m. practice-plans. The 2 a.m. film-study sessions. And if you ask 100 percent from the kids, they should expect the same from their coach.

It was literally the most difficult decision of my life.

I have heard so many parent nightmare stories from my coaching colleagues. I can honestly say that in my decade as a high school coach, I never had one significant parent problem. I had a terrifically-supportive administration. Most importantly, I’ve had a generation of incredible young women who have touched my life in ways I never thought imaginable when we were teaching them how to dribble on that YMCA floor 22 years ago.

That’s a pretty good run. I am very blessed.

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