Photos courtesy of Tony Petersen

John Wooden with Tony Petersen, in 1997 (top) and 2006 (above). Wooden was not only a great coach; he was a great man.

On June 5, college basketball legend John Wooden passed away at Ronald Reagan UCLA Medical Center, just a few months shy of his 100th birthday

Now, admittedly, this doesn’t have much to do with us in Fresno, and it isn’t very timely, but I feel that coach Wooden’s story is one that must be told.

John Wooden coached for 29 years, two at Indiana State and 27 at UCLA, amassing 664 wins and winning more than 80 percent of his games. He won 10 national championships, four of them in undefeated seasons, seven of them consecutively. At one point his UCLA teams won 88 games in a row, a record that is almost inconceivable.

By any measure, Wooden had an incredibly successful career. The coach defined success as “a peace of mind which is a direct result of self-satisfaction in knowing you did your best to become the best that you are capable of becoming.”

Photos courtesy of Tony Petersen

His Pyramid of Success is used throughout the world as a tool to teach young men and women the virtues that lead to a successful and fulfilling life. Its values are the ones that helped make John Wooden a man of impeccable character.

In the summer of 1997, my dad, a basketball coach at Buchanan High School at the time, took his team to a basketball camp at UCLA. Being a coach’s kid, I tagged along.

The camp was amazing. I got to walk around UCLA’s beautiful campus, play basketball in Pauley Pavilion, where the Bruins played basketball, and met Bill Walton, the Hall of Fame basketball player who played for UCLA from 1972-74.

But that wasn’t the best part. Not even close. I got to meet the legendary coach.

I may have only been eight years old, but I was a huge sports buff and could reel off UCLA’s stats from the Wooden Era in rapid succession, even at that age. So I knew the legend when I saw him. When I ran up to him to say hello, he could not have been more gracious. He offered his autograph, his lap to sit on, even conversation””with me, a small, pale blonde kid.

Later, Wooden spoke at a meeting where all the coaches convened. Of course, I went with my father. The coach made it a point to seek me out when he saw me, hugged me and took a picture with me, wrapping his arms around me. I could not have been happier.

Later that summer, I was hit in the head with a golf club, requiring emergency surgery. It was a miracle that I lived, much less that I kept my mental facilities intact. While I was recovering at home, I received a letter in the mail. It was from John Wooden.

“It was bad news to learn that you had been hurt in an accident,” wrote coach Wooden, “but good news to hear that you are getting well quickly. I enjoyed seeing you at the basketball camp and hope that I will see you again next year. Do what the doctor and your parents say and help them to help you. Love, sincerely, Coach Wooden.”

Needless to say, that picked my spirits up in a mighty way.

But even legends need their spirits picked up sometimes. In 1985, Nell, Wooden’s wife of 53 years, passed away. It crushed him. Friends feared for his life. He wrote letters to her every month thereafter, telling her how much he loved her. He did it up until a few months before he died, only stopping when he was physically unable to do it anymore.

Photos courtesy of Tony Petersen

But his faith sustained him.

“Losing Nell has cured me of any fear of death,” Wooden wrote, “because I believe that when I’m called, when the Good Lord beckons according to his plan, I will go to heaven and be with her. Knowing this gives me peace.”

Rest in peace, coach.