Wed Apr 13, 2011 6:52 am
Collins remembers almost every game he has ever played or coached.
The 59-year-old Collins has not asked his video coordinator, Monte Shubik, for a copy of a 76ers game all season. At a recent staff meeting one assistant coach mentioned a loss to the Hawks in which Philly guard Lou Williams missed a dunk, triggering an Atlanta rally. "There was 5:14 on the clock," Collins said matter-of-factly, then recited every play that occurred the rest of the game.
And so, in the middle of the meeting, Shubik started watching that Hawks-Sixers game on his laptop.
Sure enough, there was 5:14 left when Philadelphia's defensive possession started. The rest happened exactly the way Collins said. The game had been played almost four months earlier.
Collins does not use a computer. Before every game he watches two hours of the opposing team's defense, but that is pretty much it. He is probably wasting his mind in this game," Spoelstra says with a laugh. ""He could probably be saving a lot of lives in the world of science."
Collins doesn't remember every single play, and sometimes he gets small details wrong. But generally, his recall is uncanny.
Collins remembers the things that matter most to him: people, Bible verses and basketball games. Yes, he remembers his kids' basketball games, too. He could peacefully watch his daughter, Kelly, play volleyball and soccer in high school because he didn't understand the nuances of those sports well enough to etch every play in his brain.
Impressive, right? But you know what would be nice sometimes? The ability to stop remembering.
What if Collins could forget, just for a day, what happened in the 1972 Olympic gold medal game in Munich?
The refs inexplicably gave the Soviets three chances to score as time expired. On the third try they succeeded. Collins spent the night walking around Munich in stunned silence. He and his teammates still haven't accepted their silver medals.
...
Assistant coaches were in awe. It is a form of genius, but as his longtime friend and assistant, Johnny Bach, says, "That strains the team, too. He is asking them to keep pace with the machine-gun mind."
In Chicago and Detroit, giving was his problem. He couldn't stop. After losses, he would gather his team, pull up a chair and give a detailed breakdown on how it went wrong. Collins was not a big yeller, but as his former player (and current Sixers assistant) Michael Curry says, "It's not so much the yelling as the constant reminding. I think that wears on a guy."
Players would tune him out...
For 20 years he was one of the great color commentators in sports, appealing to both casual fans and experts...Two years ago Collins was inducted into the Basketball Hall of Fame—as a broadcaster. It was well-deserved, and also fitting. They did not induct him for his playing career or his coaching record. They inducted him for his ability to see the game.
...six watches that Bulls owner Jerry Reinsdorf gave him after each Bulls championship. As it turns out, Collins is not the only one who remembers. The Bulls fired him, but in 2008 they nearly rehired him. (He and Reinsdorf decided not to risk their friendship by working together again.)...
Wed Apr 13, 2011 3:57 pm
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Wed Apr 13, 2011 7:16 pm
benji wrote:It's probably one of the reasons Popovich, Phil and George Karl are more prone to stick around places longer than Van Gundy, Collins, Brown, Skiles, etc. They have a more laid back style that adjusts to the players and focuses around a core "vibe" than the standard obsessiveness.
Wed Apr 13, 2011 7:22 pm
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