In March 1972, Tommy Izzo stood at the free-throw line for Iron Mountain High School, his team trailing rival West Iron County by a point with two seconds to go.
Izzo, who had played valiantly, had a one-and-one. One free throw would tie the game. Two would give Iron Mountain the Upper Peninsula championship and a berth in the Michigan state quarterfinals.
Izzo’s first shot went up and hit … iron.
“He got condolence cards from all over the U.P.,” Ralph Izzo, his uncle, recalled the other day. “Can you imagine the pressure on that kid?”
Twenty-eight years later, Tom Izzo finds himself in the middle of a different sort of March Madness, having led mighty Michigan State to the Final Four for the second consecutive year. He chuckled at the mention of his momentous miss.
“Most people would think I have more stardom from going to the Final Four, but not up there,” Izzo said. “I think I became more famous missing than if I would have made it.”
Missing also helped Izzo become as a strong as the ore found in that unique part of the country–a place he returns with old pal Steve Mariucci every summer, answering to “Cooch Izzoo.” For years Izzo has kept a newspaper clipping detailing that game. When former Spartan Antonio Smith once blew a clutch free throw, Izzo gave him a copy of the article.
“Sometimes players appreciate to know that you’re human too and that you’ve gone through some trials and tribulations,” the 45-year-old Izzo said.
Trials and tribulations? If they won’t come to Izzo, Izzo will create them. Through a compelling combination of angst and elbow grease, he has laid the foundation for one of the more promising coaching careers in Division I history. In five years at the Spartans helm, Izzo has won 118 games, three Big Ten regular-season titles and two Big Ten tournament titles. He has led State to the Final Four twice, matching its total appearances in the 53 years before he became head coach.
Hard to believe some in East Lansing thought the 5-foot-7-inch Izzo was in over his head after he went 33-28 in his first two years.
“I went back one time and they’re ripping Tom and they’re ripping me,” said former Spartans coach Jud Heathcote, who had given Izzo a part-time coaching job in 1983. “They’re saying, `Heathcote used his influence to get him the job. Izzo can’t coach.’
“I always felt Tom would be successful. just didn’t know he’d be this successful.”
Two more wins and Izzo will hang a national title banner faster than John Wooden, Dean Smith or Mike Krzyzewski.
That’s elite company. But don’t tell Izzo. Gracious as he is, compliments tend to make him twitchy.
“I call it `W-W;’ he has tremendous work and worry ethic,” Heathcote said. “If he loses a game, he doesn’t think he’s ever going to win another one.”
Northwestern coach Kevin O’Neill, one of Izzo’s close friends, did not win a Big Ten game last winter. But his daily calls to Izzo made O’Neill realize it could be worse: he could be coaching the Spartans.
“I’m going through 5-25, and he’d say, `I’ll tell you what, Kev, we’ve got problems,’ ” O’Neill said with a chuckle. “Problems? They were No. 2 in the country!”
Izzo frets over his team: Is he doing all he can to prepare for today’s practice, tomorrow’s game, next week’s recruiting visit?
He frets over his family: Is he neglecting his wife, Lupe, and 5-year-old daughter, Raquel? What about his responsibilities to his father, Carl, and his mother, Dorothy?
“Worrying keeps you on your toes,” he said. “It keeps you from being complacent. It can make you work harder.
“If I go into practice worrying about things, that’s going to rub off on the players, and that’s not good. But if I worry about things before practice and can resolve some of those things in my mind, maybe that can be a positive for our team.”
Izzo insists he’s doesn’t allow worry to eat away at his confidence. Instead he uses it to fuel his commitment to his job, which is legendary even in the demented business of college basketball. Under Heathcote he gained a reputation as a tireless recruiter, although he didn’t bag every blue chip.
Izzo had bird-dogged Chris Webber throughout his career at Detroit Country Day School and thought he could persuade the fabulous forward to wear the Green and White. When a reporter called Izzo with news Webber had signed with Michigan, Izzo sank to the floor and wept.
It wasn’t the first time Izzo had shed a tear over basketball–remember that missed free throw in the U.P.?–nor was it the last. When senior point guard Mateen Cleaves walked off the Breslin Center floor for the final time this month, Izzo’s eyes were glistening. Cleaves won three Big Ten rings–three more than Webber.
“I think the reason he’s so intense is because he’s come a long way,” Cleaves said. “He was there when Michigan State was nothing and he’s here now.”
Izzo’s friends tell him to slow down and enjoy the spoils of his success, among them an annual $700,000 salary and the seven-bedroom, seven-bath house he and Lupe are building near campus.
Indiana coach Bob Knight, whom Izzo counts as a close friend, once advised Izzo, “Take your wife to the movies more often. You need that more than you need to watch another tape of Indiana.”
O’Neill said, “I tell him, `Man, you have got to take a break once in a while or you are going to end up just like me–a divorced basketball coach.”‘
O’Neill, who recently announced plans to remarry, is taking a family vacation with the Izzos to South Carolina this spring. Knowing Izzo would procrastinate on reservations, O’Neill went over his head and dealt with Lupe.
As Final Four preparations consumed Izzo this week, he expressed concern that the demands of the job were keeping him from his family.
“It really bothers me,” Izzo told the Detroit News. “Even my parents: they’ve been staying with us for two weeks, but I’m not even giving them enough of my time. Whenever they leave the house–going back home, for instance–I think I may never see them again, and I feel worse about the way I’ve been treating them. It’s just not right.”
But Izzo can’t stop working. It’s what Izzos do.
Izzo’s Italian-born grandfather, Tony, started the Izzo Shoe Hospital in Iron Mountain about 80 years ago. But there weren’t enough shoes in the area to keep Tony’s three sons busy. Uncle Ralph went into carpeting; he’s retired but, at 79, still makes house calls. Uncle Andy handled shoe repairs. Carl, Tom Izzo’s father, branched out into home improvement.
Carl Izzo offered his son the business, but Tom had his heart set on coaching. After working as head coach at Ishpeming High School and as an assistant at Northern Michigan, his alma mater, Izzo pestered Heathcote until the gruff Spartans coach gave him a $7,000-a-year part-time slot in 1983.
Three years later Heathcote ordered Izzo to take a full-time job under J.D. Barnett at Tulsa.
“He did not want to leave but he was out of money,” Heathcote said.
Izzo spent only six weeks at Tulsa. In the summer of 1986, Spartans assistant Mike Deane accepted a job at Siena, opening a slot on Heathcote’s staff. Barnett reluctantly allowed Izzo to return to East Lansing, where his heart had remained.
Izzo stayed at Heathcote’s side nine more years, periodically turning down head-coaching offers from smaller schools. When Heathcote retired in 1995, Izzo was ready. He built the team in his image, luring Smith, Cleaves and Morris Peterson out of blue-collar Flint, Mich., with promises to work their fannies off.
Coaches like to say that rebounding is the best proof of a team’s work ethic. The Spartans this season set a Big Ten record with a 14.7 rebounding margin. Only two teams have outrebounded the Spartans.
One of them is Wisconsin, which meets Michigan State Saturday in Indianapolis.
Time for Izzo to start worrying.
