Sandra Kay YowHead Coach, North Carolina State Women's Basketball
1942-2009
Pink will never be the same because of you.
"Yow's goodbye crafted in her selfless way"
By Caldon Tudor
Raleigh News & Observer
CARY -- Kay Yow's good-bye message on Friday reminded me of the first time I met her, which was 30 or so years ago on a chilly afternoon in Maryland's Cole Field House.
Then, as in death, Yow refused to let anything be about her. It was all about others – the people around her, even the people she didn't know or could never know.
In a video recording that the former N.C. State women's basketball coach filmed some weeks ago, she emphasized the importance of religion. Her parting wish was that those in attendance at Cary's Colonial Baptist Church – and far beyond – seek a greater reward from life than gold medals and gold bullion.
Coach Yow may have been the most selfless person I've ever met, and she was that way long before religion came to play such a prominent role in her life. The lady was a hopeless optimist. I told her that once and her response was classic: “Hey, if you just take time to look for the best in people, you'll find it in no time at all.”
The day I met her was during the first round of the ACC women's tournament in the late 1970s. Women's basketball, in those days, was only a slight cut above intramural athletics. I was the only sports writer at the game, and there weren't many more fans in the arena that afternoon than sports writers.
N.C. State won the game by at least 30 points and that was only through the grace of Yow. It could have been 60.
At game's end, I waited outside the locker room to ask the coach a few questions. She was fully startled to see a reporter of any type, much less someone from The Raleigh Times.
“My goodness!” she said. “Are you really going to do a story on our game?”
After I assured her that a game report on the Wolfpack women was my lone assignment of the day, her only item of urgency was that I interview her players.
“I'll go get some of them for you to talk to,” she said. “You wait right here. Don't you dare move. Stay right there. Don't budge. These girls are so dedicated, and they're such wonderful kids, and just one story would mean so much to them, and they've worked so hard for so long, and their families drive all the way to these games, and they all bring school books along all the time, and they make good grades, and we had bus problems getting up here, and it didn't take anything away from their enthusiasm whatsoever, and we'd love for you to come to practice one day and see how much effort they put into it, and there are so many great young gals hoping to see women's basketball survive, and it's such a great opportunity for girls.”
And on and on and on.
I was embarrassed to tears.
But not the sort of tears I fought to hold back Friday.
And, of course, all the players wanted to talk about their coach. Yow, in turn, didn't like that drift and insisted that the story focus on the players.
At long last – after Yow virtually dictated the storyline to me – I returned to courtside, pulled out my trusty Royal portable typewriter and went to work on my first-ever women's basketball game report.
Sure enough, about 10 minutes later, Coach Copy Editor Yow was peeking over my shoulder with stern advice. “Now don't forget,” she warned, “this should be about the players and women's game.”
One other thing: Beneath the hundreds of chairs in the church building Friday, there was a basketball court. That, she would have liked. It wasn't Coach Yow Court. Just a simple basketball court, where young girls years from now will learn to dribble, shoot and discover lessons much more important than a game score.
"To me, there are three things we all should do every day. We should do this every day of our lives. Number one is laugh. You should laugh every day. Number two is think. You should spend some time in thought. And number three is, you should have your emotions moved to tears, could be happiness or joy. But think about it. If you laugh, you think, and you cry, that's a full day. That's a heck of a day. You do that seven days a week, you're going to have something special."
-- Jim Valvano (March 10, 1946-April 28, 1993)
Hues of blue and deep reds starkly divided the crowd of thousands. Kay Yow's seat on the North Carolina State bench was placed directly at half-court, where the contrasting shirts met, as if to bind the opposing sides. On the court, the players donned pink shoelaces, and pink ribbons were attached to their jerseys. Superficially, it was an eyesore. But in that moment, it was beautiful.
It was March 2007, and the women's Atlantic Coast Conference tournament was coming to a close at the Greensboro Coliseum in North Carolina. But it wasn't just a tournament; it was a battle. For everyone -- coaches, players and fans -- it was an emotional battle.
During halftime of the semifinal matchup between the North Carolina Tar Heels and the Maryland Terrapins, Yow and Virginia coach Debbie Ryan were honored as co-recipients of the Bob Bradley Spirit and Courage Award. The two had fought cancer (Ryan with pancreatic, Yow with breast cancer), and Yow's then-20-year struggle had picked up steam as her previous mastectomy, radiation treatment and hormone therapy had done little to keep the disease at bay. Yow's fight had drawn supporters from around the country, but especially in the conference. After all, she was born in North Carolina (Gibsonville), schooled in North Carolina and had spent her entire coaching career in North Carolina. This was her home.
In her 38 years of coaching -- four with Elon College, 34 with N.C. State -- Yow compiled a 737-344 record. She led the U.S. Olympic team to a gold medal in 1988 (a year after her cancer diagnosis) and the Wolfpack to four ACC tournament titles, 20 NCAA tournament bids and a Final Four appearance. And in 2002, she became only the fifth female coach inducted into the Naismith Basketball Hall of Fame.
During the 2006-07 regular season, Yow took a 16-game leave to focus on her treatment. When she returned to the sidelines, her strength had yet to return with her. But for her team -- to have its coach back on the bench, back where she had always been for the past 26 seasons with N.C. State - Yow's homecoming brought a renewed sense of dedication and a wave of inspiration. The Wolfpack's home court, Reynolds Coliseum, was renamed "Kay Yow Court," and the team won 12 out of its last 15 games, taking down conference rivals North Carolina and Duke before falling to Connecticut in the Sweet 16 of the NCAA tournament.
As N.C. State plowed forth in the conference tournament that year, a record of nearly 70,000 spectators filtered in and out of the coliseum over the weekend, not only to watch some of the top players and coaches in Division I basketball go head to head, but to also take part in an inspirational movement. Though not officially named, it was the Kay Yow movement against cancer, and it was shared by all -- strangers and rivals alike.
In the press conference following the final game, which the Wolfpack lost to the Tar Heels 60-54, even the stoic demeanor of reporters were tried as Yow struggled to speak -- her chemotherapy treatment, just a week prior, cut away at both her strength and voice. Her once glowing visage looked drawn and tired, her eyes drooping and vacant.
A couple of ambulances were parked discreetly at the rear of the coliseum, while emergency medical personnel were scattered throughout as eerie reminders of what could happen. While her team was on the floor, the once energetic and physically involved coach struggled to adhere to doctors' orders. Her assistant, Stephanie Glance, who had taken over the team in Yow's absence to lead the Wolfpack both in play calling and in spirit, played the role of guardian on the sideline. Her primary duty: keep Yow from getting too excited. Keep her seated. Keep her from expending too much energy.
During the regular season, UNC coach Sylvia Hatchell and Ryan carpooled over to Yow's house in Cary, N.C., to spend time with her, to talk about life and relationships -- to enjoy each other's company outside of the gym, the rivalrous tensions cast aside. Hatchell remembered it as "a really special visit."
For the thousands at the Greensboro Coliseum that weekend in March, Yow's appearance in the midst of a tiresome fight for her life was their special visit. Because, in taking what her late N.C. State counterpart, Jim Valvano, once said, cancer could take away her physical abilities, but she refused to let it touch her mind, her heart or her soul. She refused to stop fighting.
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