AJ: A Worthy Ride

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I won’t ever forget the first time I was right next to Roy Williams.

It was Saturday, November 30, 2002. I know the date, well I had to look it up, because it took place in LaGaurdia Airport in New York City the day after the championship game of the Pre-Season NIT.

Three nights earlier, a bunch of young North Carolina Tar Heels named Felton, May, and McCants, defeated Williams’ Kansas team in the semifinals. Two nights later, they knocked off Stanford for the championship.

I was heading toward my gate wading through a sea of people when I literally bumped into Williams. He was rushed and glanced my way but didn’t know me from Adam. That came later.

The moment remains vivid because Williams was already legendary. I was in NYC covering UNC, so the connection was obvious. But he was already one of the hulking figures in college basketball, and as a junkie of the sport and still a young, maturing sportswriter, it was a thrill to have that experience, as brief as it was.

Four months later, Williams’ Jayhawks lost in the national title game, and a week after that he was coaching those Carolina pups that got the best of his club that night at Madison Square Garden. And two years later, he led those kids to a national championship; his first, Carolina’s fourth, and in doing so guided UNC back to the prominent place it occupied for so long under Dean Smith.

My in-person experiences with Williams since that chilly morning in the Big Apple have been more frequent than with anyone else in my career. He coached 648 games at UNC of which this scribe covered about 500.

I don’t know Williams personally, but I believe I know him. Trust me, asking him questions in Ann Arbor a few years ago after the ugly loss at Michigan helps you get to know a coach in some kind of way. And asking him in Dayton in 2006 about David Noel as a leader does, too. Just outside the media room one afternoon at UNC in 2008, the sympathy card at Pitt in 2015, the joy in his face after Luke Maye’s shot in Memphis four years ago, the hallway near the press room at Gonzaga last season, and I’ll never forget those moments and later his responses.

Williams’ greatest legacy to me is his truly genuine nature. That humble kid from the North Carolina mountains still exists, and in a time of self-congratulatory narcissism and constant look-at-me attitudes, Williams remained who he always was. He didn’t care for that “Tweeter” stuff.

He knew he was damn good, and sometimes had to remind a scribe or two, this one included. Those of you who know me well are aware of those times. But they made me better. They helped me look more clearly in the mirror.

What’s funny is we sportswriters love to ask coaches what they saw on film from a game and what was learned. How can you get better? What changes might you make?

Yet, many of us don’t watch our own game films. There’s a power-of-the-pen mindset among many in this profession that is understandable, though within reason. With that comes a responsibility, and that is something Williams helped me understand.

I won’t go into the incident, but as difficult as it was at the time, I look back on it with tremendous pride and appreciation. He forced me to look at my game film, and I learned a ton.

I’m a better journalist because of it. My vision is clearer, my patience with pulling the trigger on things more tempered, and my sensibilities greater.

The many blessings I’ve experienced in this business have been wide ranging. My first year as a wet-behind-the-ears scribe was Dean Smith’s last. I covered Duke and Coach K for 13 years. I’ve covered the ACC in various capacities for 25, the pro teams in this state for a nice stretch and learned plenty from so many along the way.

But since taking my current post seven years ago and finally focusing on just one school, learning more about Williams, who he is, how he rolls, what he represents, and truly what makes him tick, has been perhaps the most rewarding time I’ve had. And remember, this period includes that game-changing moment.

The years have passed and I’ve grown comfortable with how I go about my craft, experiences with Ol’ Roy have been pretty good, and my admiration and respect for him has grown, not as a coach, that was always there, but for who he is.

You learn about Roy through his players. Seeing them grow and mature, seeing their tears when they talk about him, the shuttering voices, and quivering lips. Young men from every imaginable background.

The parents who swear by Roy in 20-minute conversations without ever once talking about basketball. The stories people joyfully recall about the time they ran into Roy at a gas station, supermarket, a Hornets game, UNC baseball game, in a parking lot, or when they got a wave from him as he passed by.

Their thrill has always been my thrill. And each time has added another layer of appreciation for my personal experiences. As a journalist, I’m not a fan. I chose a long time ago to not cover Major League Baseball so I could still root for the Baltimore Orioles, as painful an existence as it is. So when I cover UNC or anyone else, and have dealt with Roy Williams for the last 18 years, it has never been as a fan.

The respect and all that stuff has been there, even at the most difficult of times. But now that he’s stepped down and I’m allowing myself to explore those many moments, while recognizing what I’ve been a part of for nearly two decades, I think it’s okay to say I’m a Roy Williams fan.

I never once rooted for him to win a game but have been happy for his successes. If you covered those 2005 kids before Roy arrived, or the 2009 group a year after 40-12, or the 2017 team 12 months after the Kris Jenkins shot, how could you not feel good for them and their coach?

Seeing Roy sitting on the floor outside the Tar Heels’ locker room, face buried in his hands, 35 minutes after Jenkins’ shot fell through the cylinder in Houston, was the one time I let my guard down. It was a guy caring for another who was having a rough moment. Anyone with a pulse and soul would have done the same thing.

I knew that night I liked Roy. And I knew it was okay. Sportswriters don’t always have to operate in a world surrounded by facades.

He’s off to whatever he and Wanda will do. No doubt, he will be at The Masters next week, and will maybe cave in and go on that RV trip with Wanda. I hope he does. The grandkids are gonna see a lot of Ol’ Roy, and that’s pretty cool, too.

It was time for him to go because he said so.

And for me, I’m so grateful to have been along for the ride, in my very small way. I covered Roy Williams for 18 years, and that’s pretty cool, dadgumit.