In a span of five months between 2020 and 2021, we lost two of the greatest coaches in college basketball history, John Thompson and John Chaney.
Black coaches, Black men, Black fathers. In those legends, we had all three, and their passing has created a void that will be hard to fill.
They were old school coaches. They fought for the rights of those many overlooked. Men who pushed for excellence both on and off the court from those who might not expect it from themselves. Black men who were unapologetic in their support of young Black men. Outspoken, imposing figures who refused to back down. Fearless over confrontation.
These were the college basketball coaches I most respected and admired.
Coach John Thompson
In 2019, I had the honor of meeting, interviewing, and presenting an award to Coach Thompson. When he first entered the room, it took me back to the moment when my parents bought me the wool Georgetown Starter jacket in the early 80s that they still have in their closet today. I supported my local St. John’s team, but Georgetown was a different type of fandom. I cheered for players like Patrick Ewing, David Wingate, and Reggie Williams. I celebrated when they won it all in 1984 and was devastated when they lost to Villanova in 1985.
But my love for the Hoyas was really rooted in my admiration and respect for Coach Thompson.
Thompson passed away on August 30th, 2020 at the age of 78. He spent 27 years as the head coach of the Georgetown Hoyas (1972-1999). He was an intelligent, proud, and dominating presence who rose to prominence during a time when Black men were seldom seen in his position. Thompson was a championship-winning coach, but to many, he was much more. He was an inspiration. He was a fearless rule breaker and caste system destructor. Unapologetically bold and Black, taking disrespect from no one and forging his program without fear of reprisal. Thompson was a highly successful coach and a nurturing father. Not only to his sons but to those who sometimes lacked that much-needed male presence in their lives.
When I spoke with Coach Thompson, he was in a motorized wheelchair. Despite not standing, his presence still commanded respect. I understood how he could be intimidating to those he towered over. I mean this was the man who sat down with notorious D.C. drug dealer Rayful Edmond III to make sure he had a clear understanding of his interactions with Thompson’s players.
“I tried to make sure he knew the goals and objectives of my kids,” said Thompson to then Washington Post reporter Michael Wilbon in 1989. “and [tried to] make it very clear to him that I didn’t want anything going on with my kids. I was trying to deal immediately with a specific problem.”
Thompson was viciously protective of his players. He shielded Patrick Ewing from an aggressive media force that wanted unlimited access to the star center. He tried to harden Ewing to the racist taunts he was exposed to from abusive fans at every venue across the country. He challenged the NCAA over Prop 48, especially the standards mandated by Prop 42. He even walked off the court before the team’s 1989 game against Boston College in protest of the adverse effects it would have on student-athletes, particularly Black student-athletes.
“What I hope to do is to bring attention to the fact that [Proposal 42] is very much discriminatory,” said Thompson in with WTTG-TV’s ‘Sports Extra,’. “I’m beginning to feel like the kid from the lower socio-economic background who has been invited to dinner, had dessert, and now is being asked to leave.”
He was steadfast in his beliefs and unapologetic in his actions regarding his treatment of his players. It was something that was sorely needed at the time as student-athletes, especially Black ones, had not yet awakened from their slumber created by the mighty caste system of the NCAA.
Coach John Chaney
Less than 150 miles north of D.C., John Chaney was building Temple University into a formidable program. But Chaney didn’t begin his coaching ascension once he got to Temple. He started it once he finished his successful collegiate and pro career and moved to Philadelphia to coach at the junior high school and high school levels, where he built championship-winning programs.
He then moved to Chaney State, a Division II school outside of Philadelphia. In his ten years as their men’s head basketball coach, the program went 225-59. He coached them to eight DII tournaments and won the national championship in 1978. In 1982, Coach Chaney took the head coaching job at Temple and cemented his place among the list of college basketball coaching greats.
In his 24 seasons with the Owls, he only had one losing season, and that was in his first season when the team went 14-15. Over the next 23 years, the Owls never had a losing season.
I never had the honor of meeting Coach Chaney, but I got to watch him. I got to read about him and see how he integrated his personal politics with his coaching philosophy. He believed in uplifting communities that many overlooked. He protected and nurtured young Black boys who would otherwise be ignored or used. Even from a distance, I came to admire him as I did Coach Thompson.
Coach Chaney passed away last week at the age of 89. When I heard the news, I felt like another piece of my childhood sports experience was gone. I watched the fiery, in your face coach build the Temple Owls program into an A-10 powerhouse and a nationally ranked team. I watched him coach the team to a #1 ranking in the 1987-88 season and develop the careers of players like Mark Macon and current Temple head coach, Aaron McKie.
But mostly I remember his ferocity in his defense of his team and players. Like Thompson, he also confronted the NCAA for its restrictive and biased practices that limited the chances of success for Black student-athletes.
“What entity has the right to play God?” Chaney asked in the 1994 Sports Illustrated profile. “You tellin’ me the NCAA can decide who lives and who dies among Black folks? Education is food, it’s heat, it’s shelter! Who has the right to deprive anyone of that? I come from the earth! I know what I’m talkin’ about! What choice are we givin’ the kids who fail that SAT test? One choice! Back to the streets … to a slow-legged death.”
While many will reminisce about the postgame press conference where he charged and threatened then UMass coach, John Calipari, they fail to recognize the underlying reason for the moment. Coach Chaney was incensed over the treatment of the referees by Calipari so, as befitting of his personality, he confronted the agitator. While the two eventually became friends, it was that passion that people came to respect.
“Coach Chaney’s ability to coach hard, yet build trust and teach life lessons, is unmatched in our profession, in my opinion.” wrote Coach Calipari on Twitter. “Although we were competitors, it’s what I admired most about him.
“Coach Chaney and I fought every game we competed – as everyone knows, sometimes literally – but in the end he was my friend. Throughout my career, we would talk about basketball and life. I will miss those talks and I will my friend. Rest in peace, Coach!”
Coach John Thompson and John Chaney share much in common.
They both remained at their respective institutions for the majority of their coaching careers. They built their programs into national powerhouses and only had one losing season in their careers. They each won over 500 games (Thompson went 596-239 and Chaney went 516-253) They were both inducted into the College Basketball Hall of Fame in 2006. They were enshrined in the Naismith Memorial Basketball Hall of Fame two years apart (1999 and 2001, respectively). They were known for signature plays (Georgetown’s four corners and Temple’s matchup zone). And they both made history- Thompson became the first Black head coach to win a National Championship and Chaney became the first Black head coach to reach 700 wins.
But what they did as coach-fathers remains unparalleled.
They took players who needed guidance, respect, and encouragement and turned them into adults with conscious minds and values. They uplifted communities that were often looked down upon and were embraced in return. They established their universities, and the surrounding neighborhoods, into places that demanded respect and attention. Mostly, they were tangible presences that generated both awe and pride.
They taught us that it was our right to challenge the system and that we could succeed despite the odds.
Allen Iverson, in his Hall of Fame induction speech, famously thanked Coach Thompson for saving his life. In a tribute to his passing, Aaron McKie thanked Coach Chaney for making him into the man he is today.
They each did it in their own way and the results remain undeniable.
Chaney believed in local talent and uplifted the neighborhood by working within the neighborhood.
“You have to move into a better place, in our minds and for our future.” said Chaney to the Athletic in 2019. “So many of them were able to change who they were. They ended up being what Temple’s statement has always been. Young acres of diamonds, right from the neighborhood, being told they could have the same kind of opportunity as everyone else.”
Thompson believed that basketball was an avenue for success, but that it should not be the sole defining factor of a person.
“Don’t let eight pounds of air be the sum total of your existence.” said Thompson.
They are Black basketball coaches who rightfully have statues erected in their honor because they are men who remain present no matter the time. They are a part of history, our history, that we will sorely miss.
Current Black basketball coaches followed through the doors these legends opened but they don’t maintain the same stature as Thompson or Chaney. They definitely have their own successes and face their own challenges in today’s society.
But their presence, strategies, and unabashed practice of using their status and platforms to raise Black boys into men will forever keep coaches John Thompson and John Chaney on their own level.
And now that they’re gone, it’s only right that we continue to look up to them.
