by Dr. Patrick K. Turley Manhattan Beach, CA PCSO Bulletin Editor-in-Chief
This spring marked the 50th anniversary of the last National Collegiate Athletic Association (NCAA) national basketball championship for the University of California, Los Angeles (UCLA) under the legendary Coach John Wooden, his 10th championship in 12 years. No coach in collegiate or professional sports has equaled that feat. That spring I was a senior dental student at UCLA trying to finish up my requirements before graduating and heading off to Seattle for my postgraduate training at the University of Washington (UW). The morning of that historic game, I was working on a patient when Dr. Spiro Chaconas, the chairman of the orthodontics department, approached me with an offer I couldn’t refuse. He had two extra tickets to the title game that night in San Diego; would I be interested in them? Without hesitation and knowing I had patients scheduled that afternoon, I said yes and found myself holding two coveted tickets. I finished doing the amalgam restoration I was working on and then began trying to work out the logistics. I immediately got on the phone and canceled the patients I had scheduled that afternoon. I told them the truth—they were all more than understanding. I then needed to figure out who I would ask to go with me. It had to be someone who could drive. My 1947 Oldsmobile, which I bought for $25 with no reverse gear, could get me from Venice Beach where I was living to Westwood each day, but there was no way I was going to trust it to make it to San Diego and back. The logistics all worked out, with my cubicle partner more than willing to drive. A mere 2.5-hour trip and we were able to witness in person that historic game.
I played basketball in high school (Servite, Anaheim, CA) and had been a UCLA basketball fan since Gail Goodrich, Walt Hazzard, and teammates won their first championship in 1964. I’ll never forget the first time I walked into Pauley Pavilion where the Bruins played and looked up at all the national championship banners hanging from the rafters; I was in awe. In my first two years at UCLA, Bill Walton led the Bruins to win the national championship both seasons, going undefeated (30–0). An avid fan, I attended just about every home game. The Bruins placed third in the nation my junior year and then won again in San Diego my senior year. In the locker room following his team’s semifinal overtime win against Louisville, KY, coincidentally coached by his former player and assistant coach Denny Crum, Wooden announced to his players that the final game against Kentucky would be his last. After 27 seasons as the Bruins head coach, John Wooden was retiring.
But leaving active coaching did not diminish his influence on those striving to be successful. Wooden’s legacy “grew exponentially in his 35 years of retirement” (as per Bruins, the official gameday magazine of 2023–2024 UCLA men’s basketball). His timeless and classic Pyramid of Success, which defined personal success in terms of maximum effort and preparation, became the subject of his countless personal appearances before many of the world’s most recognizable individuals, coaches, teams, athletes, and corporations.
In 1995, I was on the PCSO Board of Directors as a director from California and was chairing the orthodontics department at UCLA. Dr. Lee Boese from Merced, CA was PCSO President, and the Annual Session was planned for the prestigious Century Plaza Hotel in Century City, CA. Unknown to Dr. Boese, who had attended the UW orthodontics program, the Century Plaza Hotel was designed by the acclaimed UW alumnus Minoru Yamasaki, who also designed the Twin Towers in New York City. Dr. Boese was busy working with his Annual Session committee to deliver a meeting that would be worthy of the venue. His number one priority was to have a well-known person speak at the Annual Session luncheon. At our Board meeting earlier that year, he asked me, because I was on the faculty at UCLA, whether there was any way I could get Coach Wooden to be our Annual Session speaker. I told him I didn’t know, but I would do my best.
I started by writing Coach Wooden a letter explaining what the PCSO was and how his values mirrored those of our organization and its members, who strive on a daily basis to deliver the highest level of care for our patients. I signed the letter “PKT, Professor of Orthodontics and Pediatric Dentistry,” hoping that my status as a fellow faculty member might seal the deal. Weeks went by with no response. I resent the original letter, thinking that the first might have gotten lost in the mail. Still no response. A number of weeks later Dr. Boese called to see whether I had been successful in procuring Wooden’s appearance. I explained that I hadn’t, having sent two letters, but I would continue to follow up. Dr. Boese responded, “I’ve got to find another speaker if you can’t get him, and I’m running out of time.” Somehow, I was able to get the coach’s home phone number and called him, getting his answering machine: “You’ve reached the home of John Wooden. I’m sorry I’m not able to receive your call. Please leave a message.” I did leave a message, briefly summarizing my letter and our desire to have him speak to our group. Still no reply. Dr. Boese called again to which I responded, “I’ve written, and I’ve called but have gotten no response. I’ll try again, but it looks like we won’t be able to get him.” The next day, I telephoned again, got his answering machine, and began leaving my message when the message cut off and I heard “Dr. Turley, this is John Wooden. I’m sorry I haven’t responded sooner but have been quite busy—I’d be happy to speak to your group.” Oh my god! “That day is available in my schedule, but there are some issues we’ll have to work out. I know your meeting is in Century City, but I live in the [San Fernando] Valley and no longer drive, so what arrangements can be made to get me to the meeting and then back home afterwards?” Without even thinking I said, “Coach, my wife and I will pick you up at your home in the morning and drive you to the meeting. We’ll have lunch, after which you will give your talk, and when you’re through we’ll drive you back home.” “Sounds good to me,” he responded. After getting off the phone, I immediately called Lee Boese: “We got him!”
Now the pressure was on. I needed to introduce Coach Wooden at the luncheon in a way that would match the importance of him speaking to our group. I started by listing his legendary accomplishments, i.e., ten NCAA titles in 12 years, including seven straight titles, four undefeated seasons, an 88-game winning streak, and a string of 88 consecutive wins in the NCAA tournament. Coach Wooden was the first person inducted into the Naismith Memorial Basketball Hall of Fame as both a player and a coach. (He would later be awarded the U.S. Presidential Medal of Freedom in 2003 and named the “Greatest Coach of All Time” by Sporting News in 2009.) I then showed a video I had found at the UCLA Bookstore that had interviews with National Basketball Association Hall of Fame legends Kareem Abdul Jabbar and Bill Walton who spoke about what it meant to be coached by John Wooden at UCLA. The video finished with the final moments of that 1975 championship game that I attended, showing jubilant players surrounding their coach as the confetti rained down. When the video ended and the lights came back on, I simply said, “Ladies and gentlemen, the greatest coach in the history of sports, John Wooden.” I had never seen anyone get a standing ovation before giving their talk, but the PCSO membership did so for Coach Wooden.
Driving Coach home that day, I was exhausted, even though he had done all the work. I kept looking in my rearview mirror still not sure I was indeed seeing John Wooden in my back seat chatting away with my wife Patricia. I was the chauffeur; she was the ice breaker. Having just recently moved from Argentina where we got married, she didn’t have a clue as to who this person really was or his place in American sports history. They just talked family, about her nieces and nephews and all of his grandchildren. I didn’t say a word but just watched out of the corner of my eye, while navigating the freeways back to the Valley, driving Coach Wooden.