The objects Wooden keeps open like windows, like portals between then and now.
In his wallet, you'll find a seven-point creed his father gave him when he graduated the eighth grade. It's one of many copies he had printed after the original wore to shreds. "Be true to yourself," it says. "Make each day your masterpiece, help others, drink deeply from good books, especially the Bible, make friendship a fine art, build a shelter against a rainy day, pray for guidance, count and give thanks for your blessings every day." His bowed, arthritic fingers shake a little as he shows it to you, but he remembers the words by heart and says them aloud. "I was built up from my dad more than anyone else," he says. "I tried to live by this and I tried to teach by it. I haven't always been perfect, but I've tried."
In this tiny place, surrounded by these personal artifacts, you notice an embroidered pillow on the sofa in the den. It's a quote from Mother Teresa, one of Wooden's heroes, that reads: "We can do no great things, only small things with great love." Reading it, you realize the greatest coach in the history of college basketball, the man who fashioned success into a pyramid, the man whose rolled-up program and horn-rimmed glasses were for many years the very definition of competitive intensity, the man whose winning percentage is the stuff of legend and whose meticulously planned practices were Exhibit A in the triumph of rationalism over uncertainty, is, at heart, a sentimentalist.
And you don't mean this as a slight. You mean it as high praise. You mean he feels deeply. He loves. He honors. Across time and distance, he connects and stays connected to the people in his life. "Once you're on his team, you're on his team forever," says former UCLA All-American Bill Walton. "He's your coach for life."
The lengthy article can be read in it's entirety at: http://sports.espn.go.com/espn/eticket/story?page=wooden
Click on it, print it and save it in your files...as Coach Meyer teaches us, "We should all study Wooden."