On paper it sounded like a good idea—take the varsity boys’ basketball team I was coaching from the Lower Peninsula of Michigan to a team camp at Michigan Technological University in Michigan’s Upper Peninsula. I knew the area because I had worked for ten years at MTU and knew the men’s coach, Coach Luke, who was in charge. I was also familiar with the route to take to Michigan’s Upper Peninsula because my family and I had travelled US-2 plenty of times on our way to visit family living in the Lower Peninsula.
What I wasn’t sure about was whether:
Players would have time in June to make the trip
Players would have an interest in the camp
Players would be willing to fundraise
What I was sure about:
Players’ parents wanted their kids out of the house for a weekend
Players’ parents wanted their star players to improve their hoops skills
Players’ parents would make sure their kids would help fundraise
I ran all the info by the players and sent home a sheet with every piece of detail for the potential trip: We would be participating in a team camp with twenty-five to thirty other varsity teams from Michigan and Wisconsin; we were guaranteed twelve games in three days; we would depart on Thursday and return late Sunday night; Phil, one of the players’ dads, would assist me on the trip; and we would have fun. Most of the players had never visited the west end of the U.P., so this would be exciting for them. Come to think of it, most of the players had never even been across the Mackinac Bridge.
The team
The basketball team camp required a minimum of eight players per team, and this requirement almost kept our guys grounded. I checked with varsity players and could only come up with five: Ryan, PJ, Zach, Eddie Mo, and Cousin Carl. These guys had played together for a few years and got along with each other really well. A couple of my other players were already committed to participating in a band camp, so I asked three junior varsity players—Justin, Pierce, and David—and they wanted to go; so thankfully, we had enough to participate.
For fundraising we collected pop cans, pop bottles, beer cans and beer bottles. In Michigan, every empty is worth a dime. I was one of the designated drivers, so while sitting behind the wheel drinking coffee, the starting five and subs would split up and ring doorbells—all in hopes of finding heavy drinkers. That was the good news. The bad news was that we had to take all the cans and bottles to the store empty, which left me “finishing” off three out of every four returned. Ha.
Another fundraiser we held was a “Free-Throw-A-Thon.” Each player would shoot and make 1,000 free throws in roughly a four-hour period. He would obtain sponsors for each free throw made, and the money raised would help offset his costs for the team camp. For those deadeye shooters, it was an easy way to make a quick buck. For those who shot on the not-so-deadly side, it was painful. But it sure beat having the coach drinking can after can after someone else. And lest you think I was a horrible coach by making the players throw their arms out, I shot free throws right along with the lads. Even though I was well past my prime without any remaining high school eligibility, being a former “Free Throw Shooting Champion” in Alaska had its rewards—I still had the rhythm to knock down the charity tosses.
For those not familiar with the state of Michigan, the Upper Peninsula is divided from the Lower Peninsula by Lake Michigan and Lake Huron. The connector is the Mackinac Bridge, which spans a little more than five miles. According to MapQuest, our trip’s distance from St. Johns to Houghton was roughly 471.96 miles and would take roughly 7 hours and 58 minutes. Houghton is on the west end of the Peninsula. If you don’t stop there, you might end up in Lake Superior.
Our departure day of Thursday finally showed up. We loaded a car full of seniors—Cousin Carl driving, with Zach, Ryan, and Eddie Mo, and an SUV full of everyone else, and made our merry way up and across the state of Michigan. It didn’t take long for the first foul to occur.
“Oh, man! Who was that?” asked Justin.
“What was that?” queried the head coach who was struggling to get the passenger window down before being vaporized.
“Hahahaha!” hollered the human skunk PJ.
Thirty minutes into our drive and I was already regretting not stuffing my pockets full of nose plugs. When a guy ages, the hair on his head usually goes gray or hits the floor, and he then sprouts ear hair like nobody’s business. And I do mean nobody’s business. I wish losing a sense of smell would occur first and then we go bald like a baby’s butt.
“Oh, gosh.”
“PJ!”
“Hey, dad and I had Taco Bell for an early lunch before we left.”
I looked over at his dad, Phil, who happened not only to be driving the SUV, but also sporting a wide grin on his face that seemed to say, “Yep, that’s my boy.”
Justin sleeps
Soon all the players in the vehicle had fallen asleep, and that could only mean one thing: a cease-fire. But before too long, the white flag was lowered and muskets volleyed back and forth across the seats.
“Guess what, guys?” asked a voice from the back.
“Please don’t answer, please don’t answer,” I thought to myself.
“What, Justin?” giggled someone from behind me and to the left.
“Bombs away!”
“Ahhh…Justin!” yelled everyone in the SUV. Everyone in the SUV except Phil, who had a smirk on his face that said, “Yep, that’s my nephew.”
I honestly believe I wore out the up and down switch on the front passenger window before the bridge.
Traveling with these guys made me wish we went by basketball rules in the vehicle. Five fouls and they’re out.
Lunch. I believe I tucked and rolled out of that SUV before Phil had it to a full and complete stop. I was doing my best not to be nosy, but I was making a mental note of who ate what and how much. I was also extremely concerned as to which player sat behind me when we took off for the rest of our trip.
PJ.
Good gosh.
I honestly have no idea what happened in the other vehicle. Cousin Carl was driving his car and riding along were Ryan, Zach, and Eddie Mo. For all I know, they could have been burning incense and potpourri.
At the pool
Finally, the campus of Michigan Tech came into view and, boy, were the remains of my nostrils tickled. Check-in for the team basketball camp was scheduled for Friday. We hit the Copper Country on Thursday, which meant our first night was spent at the Super 8 motel. Nothing gets the team prepared to work hard on the court for three days straight quite like dropping a quarter on the floor of the pool, chicken fighting, and sweating the stuffing out of oneself in the sauna.
Continental breakfast the next day was followed by a tour of the Huskies football field and then lunch at Subway. Maybe “Eating Fresh” would help replace all of the energy spent in the pool the previous night. And it might make the gas smell a little more tolerable.
Phil and I checked in to the camp, unloaded the luggage and players at the dorm, and then the two of us headed to the coaches’ meeting. The fellow coaches were polite; introductions were made as Coach Luke went over the schedule for the next few days. Looking around the room, I realized most of the high school coaches knew each other—some rather well. This camp wasn’t the first their teams had participated in, nor did they seem to have any trouble at all breathing—must be those players and coaches had driven separately.
Once the meeting wrapped up, Phil and I headed back to the dorm where we had the players convinced that our room had air conditioning and its own shower. It wasn’t long before one of the players knocked on our door.
“Knock, knock.”
“Who is it?” hollered a grinning Phil.
“It’s Ryan. I have a quick question.”
“Really quick,” responded Phil as be opened the door.
“Our shower room is crazy full. Can I take a quick shower?”
I happened to roll over on the bed to take in the festivities.
“No,” replied Phil. “The shower is only for Coach and me. Sorry.”
And with that, our starting point guard left the non-air conditioned, showerless dorm room and headed for the crowded players’ bathroom.
Be sure to read next week’s Ehmpressions for “Team Camp Part 2.” The fellas hit the gym floor for twelve games of hoops in three days. And once they’re done with hoops, they head out to the shores of Lake Superior.
