Dean Smith: Reflections on an Outpouring of Love

I have just returned from the funeral for my friend Dean Smith.

The array of attendees was impressive:

• His wife, Linnea, a giant in her field of psychiatry, with a focus on the victims of sexual violence and imagery;
• his children, who I like and admire;
• his greatest rival, Coach Krzyzewski of Duke, now the most winning coach in the history of the game;
• Coach Roy Williams, a great protégé building upon Dean’s basketball legacy;
• scores of his many players over his 36-year career, including the greatest of all time, Michael Jordan;
• his close friend and pastor Dr. Bob Seymour, who left his mark on the civil rights movement;
• Anita Burroughs-Price, an extraordinarily talented harpist who played for him in his last days;
• Kimberly Smith (unrelated), who goes to the most dangerous places on earth to rescue victims of human trafficking;
• Tom Ross, the president of the University of North Carolina;
• John Swofford, Commissioner of the Atlantic Coast Conference, former athletic director of UNC-Chapel Hill, and former quarterback of the UNC football team,

and on and on …

Coach Smith planned his funeral so that the music and Scripture would reflect his deeds and the values of his heart:

• Howard Lee, the first African-American mayor in North Carolina, read 1 Corinthians 13. Through the reading, Coach reminded us that God is Love.
• We sang “Now Thank We All Our God.” Through the hymn, Coach stressed he was so grateful for God’s grace that he could not help but show his gratitude through service to others.
• His granddaughter, Morgan, read Matthew 25. Through it, Coach told us that what counts is how we treat the “least of these” — for that is how we treat Jesus.
• We sang “Amazing Grace.” Through it, Coach reminded us that its melody and lyrics are so transcendent that they are sung even by those at the most advanced stages of dementia (and they include Coach and my own mother who died last year).
• We departed to “Lift High the Cross.” Through it, Coach uplifted us from our sorrow with a reminder that ours is a faith of triumph.

But Coach did not plan on who spoke or what was said.

He could not have known Rev. Seymour would reveal a life of selfless, quiet service off the basketball court, service driven by faith in the Creator of Love.

He could not have known his daughter, Kristen, and son, Scott, would make crystal clear that he was a steadfast, loving, supportive, and fun father.

He could not have known that Roy Williams would confess a mistake in his friendship because he never told Coach he loved him.

He could not have foreseen the redemptive triumph when Roy then looked to the heavens, pointed an assist, and said to Coach “I love you.”

I could not help but be distracted by my own memories of long ago when I was 17. I had a mentor who knew I was unfamiliar with college. He must have seen some promise in me, for he took me to Chapel Hill and showed me the campus. He then told me that we were going to meet a couple of his friends at lunch. Imagine my surprise when the friends turned out to be Dean Smith and Charles Scott (the player he recruited who broke the color barrier in UNC sports). I was not a basketball player, but that did not matter to Coach Smith. He knew my background, knew my high school football coach, asked about my interests, and encouraged me to attend UNC. I needed no further persuasion. As a result, my life was immeasurably changed.

Reflection decades later left me puzzled. Why did Dean Smith take time out of his busy schedule to learn about an awkward boy and encourage him to attend UNC — even though the boy did not play basketball?

I was drawn to the apparent contradiction.

I wondered if the overwhelming outpouring of love and support for Dean I have seen and felt since his death springs from something beyond his accomplishments on and off the basketball court.

I wondered if the outpouring comes from fascination with many of his qualities that on the surface may seem incongruent, but in fact work together harmoniously to make a complete human.

Just a few examples:

• He was unceasingly competitive, but was always compassionate.
• He could deeply disagree, but would never demean.
• He was intensely private, but would “go public” for what was right – yet never for publicity’s sake.
• He was a free thinker, but was always grounded in simple truths

As it all sinks in, I do not wonder that I, too, now look and point to the heavens and say “I love you, Coach Smith.”

Steve Coggins, an attorney practicing in Wilmington N.C., was introduced to Sojourners by his friend, Dean Smith.