My First Day of Practice at Cypress College
Swen Nater

Cypress College head Coach Don Johnson is one of the nicest people I have ever met. Prior to the first day of practice my freshman year in 1968, he spent a lot of time with me off the court asking me questions, particularly about my personal life and my academics. Coach Johnson really cared. 
 
It’s hard to explain exactly how thrilled I was when I stepped onto the court for the first practice. I actually had an official practice outfit, complete with reversible tank top, cool shorts (short shorts), two pair of comfortable socks, and, oh yes, shoes. 1968 was the year Adidas shook the basketball market with its first shoe: the Superstar. Each player got a free pair. It was so comfortable and light, it felt like I didn’t even have shoes on. 

Practice began with fundamental drills, you know, the usual footwork, pivoting, form shooting, rebounding and the like. But then, this nice coach had us do full-court weaves and layups. I was 18 years old and for the entire 18 years, the most winded I got was running the 50 yard dash in PE. What Coach Johnson had us doing was ten 50 yard dashes in a row. 

After three trips down the court, my thigh muscles said, “Hey! Take it easy!” After five trips, it felt like somebody sucked all the air out of the gym. I literally could not breathe. I came to a stop right next to Coach Johnson, doubled over because of a knife-like pain in my side, and wheezed like a pig. I could only get one bit of air every few seconds. My lungs were burning and pumping but my throat was closed. I straightened up a couple of times and looked him in the eye, hoping he would call 911 or something. But he didn’t even look at me; he was concentrating on practice. I looked at Coach Lubin to get some sympathy but he did the same. Finally, Coach said, “Get your breath and get back in the drill.” Somehow I did but it happened again and again, each time coupled with Coach Johnson’s indifferent exhortation to “suck it up.” I literally thought I was going to die and I wondered, ‘Where did that nice Coach Johnson go?’

Luckily, Coach announced, “Water break.” Somebody tell me; how can you drink water when you can’t breathe? So, I used the water break to get my breath. I did get a couple of sips in before the next drill. And guess what the next drill was? Full-court layups. I literally could not run up and down the court twice. My performance was so bad, if it weren’t for the fact I was 6’9” and the tallest player, I’m sure I would have been cut from tryouts. But Coach Johnson gave me a chance and, in time, I got in shape.

Remember I told you, as a junior in high school, I was cut from tryouts for stealing a pair of shoes because I didn’t have any? Well, at Cypress, the coach gave me a pair. How cool is that? And they were the best shoes money could buy. But there’s one thing even the best shoes couldn’t do for me; they couldn’t make that first practice any easier. Man, was I glad it was over.

Swen