Army West Point Athletics
MISSION FIRST: Everlasting Reward
September 15, 2015 | Men's Basketball, Athletics
There have been so many recruiting victories in the years since, so many times when Mike Krzyzewski walked into a living room, or into a gymnasium, or onto an outdoor court at a summer basketball camp and pitched the very best players in America why they should attend Duke University and not Kentucky, or UCLA, or Kansas, or (best of all) North Carolina. Yet there may have been no more unlikely coup than the one Krzyzewski pulled off in the spring of 1977.
Krzyzewski was in his second year coaching basketball at West Point, he had just turned 30 years old, and he was coming off a 20-8 season with a good roster returning in the fall. One of his targets that spring was a 6-foot-5 shooter out of Grosse Point Woods, Mich., who was good enough to be first team all-state, and good enough that the University of Michigan – a year removed from appearing in the NCAA Tournament championship game – wanted badly for him to spend his college years in Ann Arbor.
"For a kid in Michigan," Lt. Gen. Robert Brown says, some 38 years later, "what could be better than playing for the Wolverines, playing in the Big Ten? Who doesn't dream of something like that?"
And yet, when Brown received a letter from Krzyzewski, he was oddly intrigued. His father had been a Marine during the Korean conflict. The Browns were a family imbued with traditional Midwestern values and that meant a deep appreciation for the military.
So Brown decided, why not?
"It seemed like an adventure," Brown says today, laughing, from his office in Kansas, where he is Commanding General, United States Army Combined Arms Center and Ft. Leavenworth.
And the moment he walked onto post, he realized it was something else: namely, a pathway to the rest of his life. That was the weekend of the annual boxing "smoker," and Brown was instantly taken by the camaraderie of the cadets, the fierce competitions buffeted by genuine concern for their comrades. He was intrigued by the history that seemed to collide with each of his steps that weekend. He liked his future teammates, who would include two of the best players in the Academy's history, Gary Winton and Matt Brown (no relation). Mostly, though, he was taken by Krzyzewski, who made him no promises, offered him no guarantees, but presented an unyielding affinity for the Academy and for his place in it.
"This is the greatest leadership laboratory in the world," the coach told the player at one point. "If you want to be a leader, why wouldn't you come here?"
And he was sold. He was so sold, in fact, that before leaving for home, Brown visited Krzyzewski and brought with him a simple message: "I'm coming."
It was here that Krzyzewski delivered the first – and by no means the last – challenge to his new recruit: "Let's see if we can get you in here, first."
Brown wasn't sure what to say. But not long after, he received word that he would have no problem being admitted, and a few years later Krzyzewski conceded there was never an issue at all with his grades, he just wanted to see how he would handle adversity.
"Always coaching," Brown says today. "Always teaching."
All these years later, Brown and Krzyzewski have become close friends, have inspired each other with their respective successes.
"He's built a skyscraper with his career," Krzyzewski says from his office on Duke's Durham, N.C., campus. "He hasn't built a home, he's built a skyscraper and he keeps building. That's what sets Bob apart, is that he always wants to learn more and that's why he's current and why he's adaptable and why he's as good as he is, yearning to learn more and more about leadership. He and I have learned together across these last few decades since he played for me."
Says Brown: "I learned more about leadership at Army from 'Coach K' than I did anywhere else, and you're talking about the greatest leadership school in the world. That is no knock on anyone; that tells you how important Coach was to me, and remains to me."
Brown had a terrific basketball career at West Point, scoring 1,282 points for a 13.8 average, twice scoring more than 30 points (his career high, 35, came against Manhattan during his sophomore year), participating on the 1977-78 team as a freshman that played in the Cadets' most recent appearance in the National Invitation Tournament. He was a brilliant scorer who would almost never hear about his offense from his coach. His defense, that was a different matter. Brown remembers a game against Fordham his sophomore year when he made the game-winning shot in a 71-70 victory at Rose Hill Gym, their fierce rival's home court. His teammates were giddy and so was Brown, and when Krzyzewski approached him in the locker room he figured the coach was about to offer congratulations. He should have known better.
"Maybe next time," Krzyzewski said, "you can guard someone, too."
"He never thought much of me as a defender," Brown says, laughing at the memory. "That used to really tick me off. But of course … he was right."
Krzyzewski has to laugh about life's occasional ironies.
"Look, this was a guy who was first team All-Michigan the same year a guy named Ervin 'Magic' Johnson was first-team All-Michigan," he says.
"He wasn't a good player, he was an outstanding player. Sometimes when you have an outstanding scorer you don't want him to be put in harm's way to be your defensive stopper, but the thing about Bob is, I think if I would have asked him to do that he would have," he laughs.
"But it IS nice to see he's put his defensive mentality into defending our country more than defending the three-point line."
Despite the occasional clashes, Brown understood he was being coached by a master tactician, technician and motivator – although, he says with a chuckle, "I'd like to tell you I knew he'd be the first coach to reach 1,000 wins, but I can't say that. I knew he was good. I don't know that I knew he would be the best ever."
That's what made the announcement a few weeks after Brown's junior season so bittersweet.
"I guess Tom Butters saw what we saw," he says.
Butters was the athletic director at Duke, and he was in the market for a new coach that spring of 1980. Bob Knight, who'd recruited Krzyzewski to West Point out of the Chicago parochial league 15 years earlier, had strongly recommended him, and though the Cadets had grinded through a 9-17 rebuilding year there was little question Krzyzewski was ready for a bigger job.
"It was very dramatic, very emotional, when he told us he was leaving for Duke," Brown remembers. "Honestly, to us, his players, it was on some level the equivalent if the troops had lost Dwight D. Eisenhower during World War II – we respected him that much. I mean you hear about players who would run through a brick wall for a coach? That was real for us. We absolutely would have. We were sad. But we were also so, so proud of him."
Brown's senior year didn't end as he would've hoped – he hurt his knee during a game at Niagara, which came in the middle of a season-ending 12-game losing streak. But it also offered some clarity: whatever dreams he still harbored about playing basketball professionally crystallized instead to the reality that he wanted a military career. And he has never looked back from there, earning three stars and the kind of universal respect as a soldier that makes Krzyzewski beam whenever they cross paths or join forces, which to both men's delight happens frequently.
"I'm the only player he recruited that made General," Brown says. "I think there's something about that that'll always bond us. That means so much to him, because of how much the Army means to him."
Says Krzyzewski: "It's not just that he's a General. It's that he's one of the best leaders in our country. I'm so proud of that. He has an enthusiasm that keeps growing, and a humility. I'm just proud of the magnificent man he's become."
It is a pride that manifests itself in many ways, perhaps none more direct as this:
It was to Brown's immediate and eternal regret that he couldn't be in Indianapolis in April to cheer on as Duke pursued its fifth national championship under Krzyzewski. Brown watched the Blue Devils' win over Wisconsin, and it thrilled him, and it also left him a little empty: "I should've been there," he says, with a sigh.
In a way, though, he was.
A few weeks later, a package arrived for Brown at Ft. Leavenworth. It was a basketball. Turns out, as Duke marched toward its title, Krzyzewski had asked his players to think of one person for whom they most wanted to win, and to keep those folks in mind as they advanced through the brackets.
Later, he encouraged the players to acknowledge those inspirations and send them a souvenir. And so it was that Brown received his ball, signed by Duke's junior center Marshall Plumlee – a player (and an ROTC candidate) who, much like Brown himself nearly 40 years ago, has already decided that he will pursue a career in the United States Army when his eligibility is over, rather than pursue the National Basketball Association (where two of his brothers presently play).
You think you made the right choice all those years ago, Lt. Gen. Brown?
"The rewards were immediate," he says, "and they are continuous."
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Krzyzewski was in his second year coaching basketball at West Point, he had just turned 30 years old, and he was coming off a 20-8 season with a good roster returning in the fall. One of his targets that spring was a 6-foot-5 shooter out of Grosse Point Woods, Mich., who was good enough to be first team all-state, and good enough that the University of Michigan – a year removed from appearing in the NCAA Tournament championship game – wanted badly for him to spend his college years in Ann Arbor.
"For a kid in Michigan," Lt. Gen. Robert Brown says, some 38 years later, "what could be better than playing for the Wolverines, playing in the Big Ten? Who doesn't dream of something like that?"
And yet, when Brown received a letter from Krzyzewski, he was oddly intrigued. His father had been a Marine during the Korean conflict. The Browns were a family imbued with traditional Midwestern values and that meant a deep appreciation for the military.
So Brown decided, why not?
"It seemed like an adventure," Brown says today, laughing, from his office in Kansas, where he is Commanding General, United States Army Combined Arms Center and Ft. Leavenworth.
And the moment he walked onto post, he realized it was something else: namely, a pathway to the rest of his life. That was the weekend of the annual boxing "smoker," and Brown was instantly taken by the camaraderie of the cadets, the fierce competitions buffeted by genuine concern for their comrades. He was intrigued by the history that seemed to collide with each of his steps that weekend. He liked his future teammates, who would include two of the best players in the Academy's history, Gary Winton and Matt Brown (no relation). Mostly, though, he was taken by Krzyzewski, who made him no promises, offered him no guarantees, but presented an unyielding affinity for the Academy and for his place in it.
"This is the greatest leadership laboratory in the world," the coach told the player at one point. "If you want to be a leader, why wouldn't you come here?"
And he was sold. He was so sold, in fact, that before leaving for home, Brown visited Krzyzewski and brought with him a simple message: "I'm coming."
It was here that Krzyzewski delivered the first – and by no means the last – challenge to his new recruit: "Let's see if we can get you in here, first."
Brown wasn't sure what to say. But not long after, he received word that he would have no problem being admitted, and a few years later Krzyzewski conceded there was never an issue at all with his grades, he just wanted to see how he would handle adversity.
"Always coaching," Brown says today. "Always teaching."
All these years later, Brown and Krzyzewski have become close friends, have inspired each other with their respective successes.
"He's built a skyscraper with his career," Krzyzewski says from his office on Duke's Durham, N.C., campus. "He hasn't built a home, he's built a skyscraper and he keeps building. That's what sets Bob apart, is that he always wants to learn more and that's why he's current and why he's adaptable and why he's as good as he is, yearning to learn more and more about leadership. He and I have learned together across these last few decades since he played for me."
Says Brown: "I learned more about leadership at Army from 'Coach K' than I did anywhere else, and you're talking about the greatest leadership school in the world. That is no knock on anyone; that tells you how important Coach was to me, and remains to me."
Brown had a terrific basketball career at West Point, scoring 1,282 points for a 13.8 average, twice scoring more than 30 points (his career high, 35, came against Manhattan during his sophomore year), participating on the 1977-78 team as a freshman that played in the Cadets' most recent appearance in the National Invitation Tournament. He was a brilliant scorer who would almost never hear about his offense from his coach. His defense, that was a different matter. Brown remembers a game against Fordham his sophomore year when he made the game-winning shot in a 71-70 victory at Rose Hill Gym, their fierce rival's home court. His teammates were giddy and so was Brown, and when Krzyzewski approached him in the locker room he figured the coach was about to offer congratulations. He should have known better.
"Maybe next time," Krzyzewski said, "you can guard someone, too."
"He never thought much of me as a defender," Brown says, laughing at the memory. "That used to really tick me off. But of course … he was right."
Krzyzewski has to laugh about life's occasional ironies.
"Look, this was a guy who was first team All-Michigan the same year a guy named Ervin 'Magic' Johnson was first-team All-Michigan," he says.
"He wasn't a good player, he was an outstanding player. Sometimes when you have an outstanding scorer you don't want him to be put in harm's way to be your defensive stopper, but the thing about Bob is, I think if I would have asked him to do that he would have," he laughs.
"But it IS nice to see he's put his defensive mentality into defending our country more than defending the three-point line."
Despite the occasional clashes, Brown understood he was being coached by a master tactician, technician and motivator – although, he says with a chuckle, "I'd like to tell you I knew he'd be the first coach to reach 1,000 wins, but I can't say that. I knew he was good. I don't know that I knew he would be the best ever."
That's what made the announcement a few weeks after Brown's junior season so bittersweet.
"I guess Tom Butters saw what we saw," he says.
Butters was the athletic director at Duke, and he was in the market for a new coach that spring of 1980. Bob Knight, who'd recruited Krzyzewski to West Point out of the Chicago parochial league 15 years earlier, had strongly recommended him, and though the Cadets had grinded through a 9-17 rebuilding year there was little question Krzyzewski was ready for a bigger job.
"It was very dramatic, very emotional, when he told us he was leaving for Duke," Brown remembers. "Honestly, to us, his players, it was on some level the equivalent if the troops had lost Dwight D. Eisenhower during World War II – we respected him that much. I mean you hear about players who would run through a brick wall for a coach? That was real for us. We absolutely would have. We were sad. But we were also so, so proud of him."
Brown's senior year didn't end as he would've hoped – he hurt his knee during a game at Niagara, which came in the middle of a season-ending 12-game losing streak. But it also offered some clarity: whatever dreams he still harbored about playing basketball professionally crystallized instead to the reality that he wanted a military career. And he has never looked back from there, earning three stars and the kind of universal respect as a soldier that makes Krzyzewski beam whenever they cross paths or join forces, which to both men's delight happens frequently.
"I'm the only player he recruited that made General," Brown says. "I think there's something about that that'll always bond us. That means so much to him, because of how much the Army means to him."
Says Krzyzewski: "It's not just that he's a General. It's that he's one of the best leaders in our country. I'm so proud of that. He has an enthusiasm that keeps growing, and a humility. I'm just proud of the magnificent man he's become."
It is a pride that manifests itself in many ways, perhaps none more direct as this:
It was to Brown's immediate and eternal regret that he couldn't be in Indianapolis in April to cheer on as Duke pursued its fifth national championship under Krzyzewski. Brown watched the Blue Devils' win over Wisconsin, and it thrilled him, and it also left him a little empty: "I should've been there," he says, with a sigh.
In a way, though, he was.
A few weeks later, a package arrived for Brown at Ft. Leavenworth. It was a basketball. Turns out, as Duke marched toward its title, Krzyzewski had asked his players to think of one person for whom they most wanted to win, and to keep those folks in mind as they advanced through the brackets.
Later, he encouraged the players to acknowledge those inspirations and send them a souvenir. And so it was that Brown received his ball, signed by Duke's junior center Marshall Plumlee – a player (and an ROTC candidate) who, much like Brown himself nearly 40 years ago, has already decided that he will pursue a career in the United States Army when his eligibility is over, rather than pursue the National Basketball Association (where two of his brothers presently play).
You think you made the right choice all those years ago, Lt. Gen. Brown?
"The rewards were immediate," he says, "and they are continuous."
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