Imagine the look on the referees’ faces when 15-year-old Chris Head introduced himself as the head coach.
Most of the 3,000 fans in the stands at Bloomington (Ind.) South High School probably figured it was some sort of practical joke. Surely Indiana coach Bob Knight, who sponsored the Bloomington AAU team and was sitting in the bleachers, must have had a good laugh.
But here was the Chicago Hawks 16-and-under AAU team, having traveled on a school bus into town from the West Side, ready to take on Bloomington star Tim Knight and his Hoosier daddy.
All that pregame skepticism evaporated into the humid summer night as Head’s handpicked team featuring future Bulls guard Randy Brown and ex-Weber star Ken Redfield only lost by a point in double overtime. Afterward the big-city kids walked around Indiana’s campus until 1 a.m., slept on the bus and returned home the next morning.
Head, who has been coaching the same AAU team since that 1980 game, organized the entire trip, coming up with a sponsor to pay for the bus and driver. How did he talk parents into this teens-only excursion?
“Most of the parents were just glad to get them out of the house,” Head said with a smile.
It was just such an auspicious beginning that launched the career of perhaps the hottest and most resourceful young coach in Illinois high school basketball.
In only his second year at the varsity level, Head’s Westinghouse team is off to a 15-1 start and is ranked No. 1 in the state by the Associated Press and No. 5 in the nation by USA Today.
Since the 1996-97 season, Head’s teams have compiled an amazing 115-2 record, including back-to-back 34-0 and 36-0 marks at the freshman and sophomore levels.
To the casual observer, the 34-year-old West Side native is a short, burly, African-American version of Knight with the same quick-trigger temper, intimidating glare and physical presence. Head once was tossed out of an AAU game in Fayetteville, N.C., forcing his godmother and ex-Mississippi high school star Mary Love to take over the team.
“I remember a frosh-soph game when I was coaching at King where Chris grabbed a guy off the bench for a substitution and practically threw him to the scorer’s table,” said Westinghouse assistant coach Ormon O’Quinn. “He’s calmed down a lot from the old days when one mistake would bring a player to the bench with Chris all in his face.”
Try telling that to Raymond Sykes, a senior guard blasted by Head for a mental lapse in the Warriors’ two-on-two, full-court drill during Wednesday’s practice.
Then again Head never has tread lightly on anything. Controversy swirled around his coaching appointment two years ago when Westinghouse principal Lona Bibbs decided to replace Frank Griseto despite a three-year record of 68-19 and a third-place finish in the 1996 state tournament.
Griseto, now in his first year building a new basketball program at Jones, declined to comment. He and Head, his former assistant coach, have not spoken with each other since September 1998.
“Frank and I got along fine at the time, and what people said about back-stabbing wasn’t true at all,” Head said. “The change was made for the betterment of the program and for the kids. Frank is a good guy, but things such as the everyday running of the program weren’t being done in the Westinghouse way.
“Just after Frank’s final season, a senior student at Westinghouse circulated a petition that gathered 2,300 signatures calling for me to become varsity coach and presented it to our principal. I don’t know if that had any effect, but I think I’ve proven myself after 12 years as an assistant coach.”
Head was suspended for the first 11 games this season after disobeying Illinois High School Association policy in coaching his AAU team to the national title in Orlando last summer. At the time Head didn’t claim to be flouting the IHSA rule. But now that the IHSA bylaw has been amended to allow coaching contact for 25 days during the off-season, Head gladly takes the opportunity to fire a shot at the IHSA.
“I mean, the Chicago Public Schools’ motto is `Children First,’ and when I follow that, I get slapped on the hand,” Head said. “Isn’t that being hypocritical? To me, if you’re going to coach in the city, it’s either all the way or nothing at all.”
But there is a dichotomy to Head’s tough-guy persona. This same disciplinarian who sometimes strikes a little fear in his players doesn’t hesitate to pile six Warriors in his car and take them to a restaurant and a movie on weekends.
“He took us bowling one time and I just sat back and laughed,” point guard Martell Bailey said. “The last time I went to a movie with him, we saw `The Haunting.”‘
In some ways Head is one of them, growing up in the same tough West Side setting with 13 brothers and sisters. He shares his players’ passion for video games and takes a personal interest in their lives on and off the court.
Former Westinghouse star Mark Miller, who will be playing either in Germany or with the Richmond, Va., franchise of the International Basketball League this season, used to tag along with his frosh-soph coach when Head would officiate games after practices.
“Mark lived in the ABLA public housing development, and I was so afraid he would get hurt when he went home,” said Head, whose firsthand knowledge of street gangs came from two brothers who were members. “I watched over him so he could worry about schoolwork and basketball.”
Like most players, the 24-year-old Miller recalls a scary first impression.
“All I thought when I was in 8th grade was, `This guy is crazy; no way can I play for him.’ But I came to realize all the hollering was good for you. He wasn’t trying to embarrass you or hurt you. I messed up a lot my freshman year, but he only yelled at me when I didn’t try. The best thing I learned after two years with Chris was not to be afraid of anyone.”
It is Head and his high-tension, perpetual-motion press that strikes fear into opposing teams. Imagine a superquick, sure-tackling defensive unit in football that blitzed on every play. That’s Westinghouse, minus the helmet and pads.
Head has designed a pressure defense with 17 variations on a press that barely lets opponents breathe. Because Westinghouse doesn’t have a starter taller than 6-foot-3-inch Cedrick Banks, the Warriors have changed the ground rules. They force bigger, slower teams to survive in their run-and-shoot environment.
Conditioning for this 32 minutes of hell means every drill during a three-hour practice is run full court. Offensive basketball in Head’s world is a race; only the swift survive. Offensive rule No. 1: Always beat your man down the court. Movement at high speeds is the lifeblood of Westinghouse’s program.
There’s an unusual unselfishness Head has instilled in adolescents who have yet to pass through the me-first stage of their lives. During one fast break at a recent practice, five passes were made and the ball never touched the floor.
Loyola University freshman star David Bailey remembers a game two years ago when he put up 30 shots and hit only seven. He was Head’s favorite player that season.
“That was one of the few times we came in conflict,” Bailey said. “He told me I shouldn’t be taking 30 shots, and I said that we won the game. He explained that I would be more effective making 10 of 15 shots. Coaches are always right–especially Head.”
Bailey said he is grateful for Head’s ongoing tutelage. His former coach attends games and critiques Bailey’s performances.
“Sometimes during a game, I’ll get mad at my teammates,” Bailey said.
“I’ll look at him in the stands and he’ll give me a look that reminds me this is a team thing. You want to know the best part about Chris Head? No matter if you’re the star or the last guy off the bench, he treats you the same.”
That was the legacy Ella Head passed on to her youngest son. “Miss Polly,” as she was called by close friends, had a heart bigger than the eight-bedroom home on South Keeler where Head’s 71-year-old father James still lives.
The matriarchal leader of this extended family was a no-nonsense disciplinarian who often would turn her house into a soup kitchen for homeless people and stray kids in the neighborhood craving a healthy meal. From his mom, Head discovered the true meaning of tough love.
He was a freshman at Southern Illinois when word came of his mom’s serious illness. He came back home to care for her and never went back to college. Last year, just before Thanksgiving, Ella Head died at Mt. Sinai Hospital of congestive heart failure.
“I lost my best friend,” said Head, tears streaming down his face.
“I could always talk to her when I couldn’t talk to anyone else. And she was such a strong person. I want to be as strong a man as she was a woman, but I don’t think I can ever be that.
“After she passed I started to examine how I treat other people. I developed a respect for life and for the time I’m here. Raising 14 kids and helping to raise 30 nephews and nieces, my mom never took a day off in her life. That’s one of my biggest regrets–that I didn’t give her some time off and send her on a nice vacation.”
A week before she died, Ella Head met with Chris’ godmother and left some very specific last wishes.
“She told me how she loved that boy to death and asked me to take over for her in watching over him,” Mary Love said. “She said: `I won’t be around, but you’ll be there to see that Chris goes to college to be a coach, and then to the NBA.”‘
