Bill Parcells used the phrase “pelts on the horse” for earned credibility: proof you’ve done the work, not just talked about it. Writing thousands of basketball articles shows interest. It doesn’t prove expertise.
Even a coach’s record is a murky credential. Winning reflects players, resources, competition, and coaching, in proportions no one can fully untangle. And the verdict shifts with the results.
Win consistently without a league title, and people say you couldn’t win when it mattered. Win the league and miss the championship, and you couldn’t win the big one. Dean Smith said that before his first two national titles, he never felt like a loser. Wooden didn’t win his first until his sixteenth season at UCLA.
So what do players remember? I hope it’s character, competence, and the basketball experience. They won’t have agreed with every decision, and if we’re honest, some decisions fell short.
Mine did. When I chose a dozen sixth graders for a three-year fellowship, I committed to them. If they committed and did the work, they stayed. But then another solid player arrives, the balance tips, and the promise I made becomes a problem. That’s on me.
It’s why I believe that in developmental basketball, youth and subvarsity, putting winning ahead of growth usually backfires. The development track has also become expensive. Fees don’t buy playing time, but minutes, like practice, carry meaning for players and families alike.
When I coached, fees ran about $500 a season, covering gym time, referees, and league fees. I took no stipend and sponsored the team into two preseason tournaments. Skin in the game. I was fortunate to be able to.
“Pelts” raises a larger question: what constitutes successful coaching? That’s a topic for another day.
Lagniappe. Earning trust.
