Livorno is about a 3-hour bus ride from Bologna, so we were programmed to leave from the ‘Palazzo dello Sport’ at 1400 hours, 2:00 pm. We were all on the bus with one exception: John Fultz. The driver asked me what I wanted to do. With this, I found myself in an administrative position, making an administrative decision. I said, “Wait.” Some 20’ later, Fultz arrived, together with another American player, Jim Williams, who had played in Naples up until the previous year. John said, “Sorry, Coach, got held up.” I said, “Fine. Take a seat.” To the driver, I said, “OK, we can go.”

You can just imagine what the other 9 players, all Italians, were thinking: “Oh, two standards here. One for us and one for the super-star American player.” So, things were not on solid footing. We were 0-3 in Series A and there were doubts about my work. People in Bologna, a city insane for basketball, were talking. But I said nothing for the entire trip to Livorno. We arrived and headed for the locker room in their bandbox gym, which was packed with screaming fans. The guys changed into their game uniforms and warmups. It was time for my pre-game talk.

I said, “OK, here are the defensive match-ups for this game.” I then said, “Wait. Fultz, how late were you for the bus? Twenty minutes? Yes. How long does a half of a basketball game last? Twenty minutes? Yes. Fine, you will sit the first 20’ of this game. We’ll win it or lose it without you.” The room temperature dropped to - 40° C. No one said a word but I knew what they were thinking: No double standard. The Italians played great in a hostile environment. Fultz played the second half and tore them apart. We won, 72-58, and went on to win the Italy Cup itself.

Obviously, I took a huge chance with it all. But one thing a coach cannot do is lose his grip on the team. And, he must have some basic principles regarding the behavior of his players towards the team, the club, his teammates, the fans, the coaches. John Fultz put himself above other people. That’s a no-no. John and I were on great terms. He said I was the best coach he ever had in his autobiography, for which I did the preface. We never had another problem. It all worked out and I’m glad it did.

One day, Porelli informed me that he was going to hit Fultz with a fine of $500 for his off-court antics. Understand, I had no problem with the guy, who worked hard in practice and played hard in the games … and was our go-to guy. It was a Friday when Porelli informed me of his decision. Back then, $500 was a lot of money, as John was making just $27,000 a year. Our next game was on Sunday, two days from then. I said, “Porelli, if you hit him with the fine today, it might have a negative effect on him for the game on Sunday. Why not wait until Monday to fine him?”

He set me straight: “No! We’re not going to give him the idea that we are afraid to stick him with a fine. As a matter of fact, I’m GLAD we’re doing it today. That will let him know that we stand for something that’s bigger than some basketball game and that we are not afraid of losing to the extent we’ll sacrifice our principles to win.” Of course, I felt like some criminal. I should have known better. He was a brilliant man, a top civil lawyer in Bologna, the best club executive in all of Italian Sports (not just hoops). Most of all, he was a man with a sense of values. And the King of Clarity.

He called Fultz into our offices before that Friday practice. I was there. He informed John of the fine. John looked like he had been hit with a baseball bat. Porelli said, “And, if you don’t straighten out, I’ll take another $500 next week. I can do that every week, you know. It’s up to you.” Porelli was a very tough individual and John, in his third year with the club, knew that all too well. Two days later, at home, against MobilQuattro Milan, John played a great game and we won, 89-69. That was a huge lesson for me in how an administrator should face a problem: straight-on.

That is not to say we solved all our problems with John Fultz. He continued to play great basketball and we kept on winning but he burned the candle at both ends, out all night with women of every age bracket. When I say the women threw themselves at him, that is exactly the way it was. He would walk out of the arena after practice and there were dozens of girls and women waiting for him. I wondered when he had time to eat and sleep. This was at the half-way point in our season. After an 0-3 start, we were 8-6. We were starting to roll but I knew Porelli wasn’t through with John (11 in photo).

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I’ve done some ‘personal coaching’ here in Europe. Not a lot, just a few instances. In those lessons, usually to individuals or pairs of people, I don’t preach or hand out canned and rehearsed comments.

People want examples. They want to know your personal experience. They want the whole story: the principle, the example, and how it worked … or didn’t work. Oh, yes, I’ve had things blow up in my face and I let them know about those times.

These are stories I’ve taken from my ‘team building’ talks and my ‘winning attitude’ talks. Some involve me. Most involve other people and how I tried to learn from them. We’ll start tomorrow.

Getting up? That’s another story. The first adjustment I’ve made is to empty my hands before getting up. I will not rise from a sitting positing with something in either hand, as I want to be ready to use both hands if need be. No, that does not happen often, only if I’m seated in a too-soft sofa!

Then, something in your hand is not best for balance. I find I don’t need that help if my hands are empty. So, I put down the glass (or book or cell phone), stand up, then reach for the glass. It only takes a second. Just trying to head off trouble before trouble finds where I’m sitting!

Then, I no longer bend over and then straighten up quickly. When I do that, my body stops when I’m erect but my feet that to scramble in order to stay under my body. If I straighten up slowly, I have no problem. With that, I now know why old folks look like they are doing things in slow motion! They are staying within their limitation. They know they are not 30 anymore and they adjust.

Finally, I no longer try to ‘sprint’ to catch a bus or streetcar. I might speed up my walking pace a bit but no more running. When I do that, my head feels like it’s being used for a speed bag by some middleweight boxer. A great basketball coach, Hubie Brown, once said of the great Oscar Robertson, “Oscar does everything .,, slowly,” That’s me! The Oscar Robertson of old folks.

Here’s where the rubber meets the road: when I do the ‘plank.’ You know, propped up on my forearms and toes and with my body stiff as a board, holding that pose for as long as possible. You can cheat on other things but not with the plank. You are either off the floor or you are not.

Some lady, 57 years old, from Australia, set the world record for holding a plank: 4 hours and 30 minutes. Me? My upper limit is one minute. Wait, I’m lying again! I start to relax after 57 seconds. It’s the test of all tests to see if I’m really working hard. That’s when the truth slaps me in the face. Hard.

Still, I get through it: stretching, free exercise, light weights. Basically, I do the stretches for my back (which is stiff as a board every morning). Then, I do the free exercise for leg strength. Finally, I do the weights for the arms and upper body strength. I then do the treadmill for endurance and balance. I had a cycle, a great piece of equipment, but I need the balance, so I’m back on the treadmill.

The whole thing takes about 20 minutes every morning. Maybe 25 minutes. Like all who hate such things, I count off the exercises until I’m done: “OK, that’s the last stretch.” Or, “OK, one more exercise!” That helps me get through it all. After that, a shave, a shower and Laura’s incomparable breakfast. Even when I think about not doing it all, the thought of her breakfast gives me a new source of energy.

They say Americans eat to live and Italians live to eat. That’s pretty much the case. We Americans rush through meals. Italians will take 2-3 hours for a meal: antipasto, pause, first dish (pasta), pause, second dish (main course), pause, dessert, pause, digestive drink, pause, coffee. They say it takes the brain 20 minutes to inform the body that the stomach is full. Italians have zero problem with that.

Then, I have Laura, who will catch me if I’m going too fast: “Don’t put your fork into the next bite until the one you are chewing goes down the pipe.” That is a key. So, now, I’m probably the slowest eater among all Americans living on this planet. If not, I’m surely in the top 1%. And it’s easy.

It’s no secret. It’s staying active. There is an old saying, “Retire at 60; die at 62,” I remember when Bear Bryant was asked when he was going to retire as football coach at Alabama. He said, “Never. I’d die after a week.” But he did retired. One month later, he passed away, a surprise to many.

I have some built-in advantages. I don’t drink or smoke, never have. Forget drugs. I eat sensibly, have the same weight I had when I was 20. I exercise daily. But I’m of the idea that it’s staying active that keeps my RPMs up. I do these blogs, I write books, I write for La Gazzetta dello Sport, I give talks, etc.

I also do crossword puzzles, both the New York Times and, here in Italy, the Settimana Enigmistica. In all this, I’m reminded of when famous Italian journalist Indro Montanelli turned 90. They asked him what he’d give to be 21 again. He said, “I’d give everything I have just to be 89 again!” Amen to that!

For some reason, older folks, especially older men, will slump forward with their shoulders. Bent over, as they say. Out of sheer laziness, I will occasionally do this. Laura will get on me: “Straighten up!” Or, she’ll say, “Look at yourself in the window,” if we’re outdoors, on the sidewalk. A definite wake-up call.

When I first started working on this, I thought I looked silly, with my chest sticking out. Not so. In effect, my posture was just as it should have been, not slumped over, not bent backwards. I don’t say it all makes me look younger, but I know I don’t look 90. Well, at least with regard to standing up straight!

But I don’t want to sound like I’m a professional in all this. Here in the city, I am, perhaps, the slowest walker in Milan. People pass me all the time. That told me, years ago, that Father Time was catching up to me. The first thing I did was I stopped jay-walking! I was always crossing streets way before reaching an intersection until I found myself being yelled at by drivers, calling me an ‘old fool.’ That cured my fast.

All that said, I really have to concentrated when I walk or I weave like a halfback on a broken-field run! It’s like I’m coaching myself when I walk! Mainly, I tell myself to maintain a certain pace, a certain speed. And, I concentrate on what sports coaches call ‘foot skills.’ So, I’m my own walking coach. It helps that I love to walk. Keeps me going, on the move, active.

Downstairs? Hoo, boy. Again, my hand is on the hand rail! I mean, no one falls upstairs! They always fall downstairs. And there is always that split-second in which. your full weight is on one leg and your quad muscles and such had better be able to do their job or you will hit the next landing in record time! No, I don’t go downstairs sideways or one-two with each step. Again, I’m a pretty good actor!

I look at it this way. Going downstairs is a test of leg strength and balance. Going upstairs is a test of leg strength and lung power!! That’s right, lungs. I’m OK going one flight of stairs. But when I get to out second floor apartment, my lungs are saying, “Boy, why didn’t you take the elevator?” No real problems but I’m just a natural born complainer. The Devil makes me this way!

Like any ‘ancient’ guy, I’m dealing with the effects of aging. They say a man loses close to 1% of his physical strength every year after 40. That means I have about 50% of the strength I used to have. Not much doubt about that. No need for any test! I know it every time I walk upstairs or downstairs.

The big problem, at least for me, is balance. I walked at least 10,000 steps a day the last two months but I need to do more exercises, like squats, to get my leg straight up to speed. I am getting a new treadmill to help with that. I mean, you should see me walking! I look like I’m three sheet to the wind, as they used to say.

OK, that’s it for today. I’ll miss a few days when I’m out of town, working. Doing talks on team building and such. Keeps me active. More later.