Interview from Esquire Magazine:

John Wooden: What I've Learned

It's that time of year again — the time that this legendary basketball coach dominated more than anyone. Look back at his wisdom on reputations, race, and winning it all.

By: Cal Fussman

John Wooden is a Retired Basketball Coach who won 10 NCAA Championships in 12 years as the Head Coach for the UCLA Bruins.

Originally published in the February 2000 issue

They called me the India Rubber Man in high school because every time I went down on the court, I bounced right up. Now I've had my hip replaced, and my knees aren't any good. I'm old. I accept it. One of my great-granddaughters said, "Pa Pa, you drive like an old man." I said, "Well, honey, what am I?"

Discipline yourself and others won't need to.

You can do more good by being good than any other way.

If I were ever prosecuted for my religion, I truly hope there would be enough evidence to convict.

I'll never adjust to the loss of Nellie. We were married for fifty-three years. No man ever had a finer wife. Prior to her loss, I had some fear of death. Now I have no fear. I look forward to seeing her again.

Passion is momentary; love is enduring.

Be more concerned with your character than your reputation.

If I am through learning, I am through.

My father gave me a two-dollar bill for my grade-school graduation and said, "Hold on to this and you'll never be broke." I still have it. A lot of times, that's all I've had. But I've never been broke.

The most I made coaching was $32,500. Maybe I didn't have a million-dollar contract like Shaquille O'Neal, but he'll never know what it was like to get a good meal for twenty-five cents.

Don't let making a living prevent you from making a life.

I had an emergency appendectomy when I was due to leave aboard the USS Franklin in the South Pacific, and the person who took my place was killed by a kamikaze just a short time after he boarded the ship. I assume I would have been in the identical place that he was. I don't know what you call it. Some call it fate. I don't know. Things happen, but we don't know the reason.

Pick up your own orange peels.

I don't think I was a fine game coach. I'm trying to be honest. I think I was a good practice coach. I could tell you right now what we did at every practice I had at UCLA — every day, every minute. It's all on paper.

When my son was in high school, he wanted a car. I said, "You work hard in the summer and save up for half, and I'll pay the other half." So he saved up, and I came home one day and Nellie was distraught. Jim had given his money to a friend. I said to Jim, "Do you think you'll get it back?" He said, "Dad, what did you always teach me? He's my friend. Haven't I heard you say your greatest joy is doing something for someone with no thought of something in return?" Hearing your own words come back at you can make you smile. Later that year, his friend paid him back.

I don't like to be like the guy in church who coughs loudly just before putting money into the offering plate.

I learned more from Lewis Alcindor about man's inhumanity to man than from anybody else.

I had three rules for my players: No profanity. Don't criticize a teammate. Never be late.

If a player's not doing the things he should, put him on the bench. He'll come around.

I don't believe in praying to win.

What am I proudest of? After we'd won a championship, a reporter asked one of my players what kind of racial problems we had on the team. The player said, "You don't know our coach, do you?"

Coming off the floor after the NCAA semifinal win over Louisville in 1975, it just hit me: Time to go. It was an emotional thing. I can't explain it. I went to the dressing room, congratulated my players. I said, "I don't know how we'll do against Kentucky, but regardless of the outcome, I never had a team give me more pleasure. It's been a great year, and I'm proud of you. This will be the last team I'll ever coach."

Never let your emotions overrule your head.

Never say never.

Find this article at: http://www.esquire.com/features/what-ive-learned/learned-john-wood-0200