Your conjectures resonate in the clapper’s bell of knowledge. It’s an energy thing you allude to in hypothesis. The fuel of life comes in limited quantities for each individual, so listen closely.
CLOSER, yet, unless it’s fetid breath. The glowing ember deep inside can burn down low enough such that its outwardly directed radiance ceases to shine through one’s fabric. Energy of a system seeks the ground state, the 0-point of that system’s energy. Woodson is an NBA guy. Once an NBA guy, always an NBA guy. Recruits know him as simply “Coach NBA guy,” not as “one who wins with underrated players” and not as “Father figure/Family man guy”, either. From his NBA guy coaching standpoint, everything’s been handed to him, gift wrapped. He comes with a different mindset, a more unique position in life, that of worshipped man wrapped in a shroud of holiness. (I) Don’t know if he understands the needed nuances of recruiting “today’s youth” EVERYDAY here. It may not be his “advancing” age (they’re all advancing if my math is correct) or past coddling thingy, either. Some have it and some don’t. Both don’ts and do’s get along okay in life, but just in different directions of occupation-seeking travel. I once worked in a lab, sitting in front of a sign that read, “No Detail Is Too Small”. It haunts me to this day in an OCD sort of way. Coach Woody might be finding the minutia inherent in recruiting and teaching school kids too tiresome on the toenails, if you know what I mean. He may have been enjoying the good life for too long, something he just can’t shake, that be his “daze of wine and…stogies.”
That said, I like Mike. He’s an NBA guy. He’s my coach. In coach we trust he not bust, so until we hear “phi-i-t”, increasing in pitch with the passage of time, the crude sound a natural, gas explosion might make in the acoustics of a crowded elevator), we should all stick with him, noses held high.
This season coming will be his most telling, north vs south, but still probably somewhere in between, an east by north-east direction of a little more promise I hope, at least.
I apologize for my repetitiveness. It’s just that after 23 years, or so it’s come to be, original thought escapes me, for there are only so many rules to the game, as only the names and numbers change. Despite my shortcomings, I remain of erect stance, blinded in allegiance to my Alma mater, never daunted. I just can’t help myself.