From the ages of 12 to 22, I defined myself by what I did on the athletic field. I was a decent high school athlete, but looking back I never realized just how small a pond I was swimming in. When it was time to move on to college, I was lightly recruited to play basketball at a couple of Division III schools. I wasn’t ready to leave competitive games behind and because of my relationship in golf with the assistant basketball coach, Jay Mattola, I chose Muhlenberg. The only thing I remember from my one visit to the campus was the awesome gym and how serious the coaches and players were about the game they were going to be playing that evening.
In 1978, Ken Moyer was the head coach and had been for over 20 years. Arriving on campus that fall of my freshman year, I quickly found out Coach Mattola only a week prior had moved on to take the head coaching job at American University. I was alone with nothing but my small town talent and a basketball that said I once scored 50 points in a high school basketball game. All these years later I know those four years I played for the Mules helped shape much of who I am today. The first three years under Moyer were an experience in themselves, and I certainly could write a book about the cast of characters surrounding those teams. There were tremendously talented players like Jimmy Hay, Greg Campisi, and Jimmy Johnson. We had the pot head guard tandem of Dave Saylor and Scott Becker. There were enough flakes to call it snow storm. We had Keith Williams, Rick Greenberg, Rick Reid, Rob Chamberlain, and oh yeah, yours truly. This combination led to mostly losing basketball and caused a very good man and excellent coach to lose his job after my junior year.
Over the summer of 1981, Muhlenberg announced the replacement of Coach Moyer. I remember being back home in New Paltz and looking at a newspaper clipping of my new mentor. The photograph was sent to me by the athletic department at Muhlenberg of a 28- year old- unknown assistant coach from Whittenberg College by the name of Steve Moore. I showed up my senior year at Muhlenberg completely unprepared for the life lessons I was about to get schooled in. It turned out that Coach Moore possessed all the attributes in a person I respected but had failed to incorporate into my personality. He was a young man who was 100% committed to his passion and the vision he had for the Muhlenberg basketball program. He lived by an unwritten code that represented- persistence, preparation, loyalty ,belief in a well- calculated plan, a complete sense of focus, purpose, and old fashioned hard work. We started the season with a cast of mostly freshman seeing a lot of playing time in the likes of Gary Eisenbud, Rob McNamara, and Mike Spengler .We ended the season minus the aforementioned with only eight players on the roster- Ken Chwatek, Dirk Oceanak, newcomer Chris Kahn, Kurt Jack, and myself as the lone fourth year senior were the regular starters. From day one, there was one star on that team and it was Steve Moore. I only played for Coach Moore for one season and no one other person has come close to having the influence on me than Moore did. There are not many days that go by that I don’t reference Coach silently in my head. I have never measured up to the standard he set but I have always had the gauge to remind me what the right way is. The basketball season of 1981-82 at Muhlenberg College was the only losing season Coach Moore would have. In the 34 seasons after that, he has won 754 games at Muhlenberg and Wooster combined. he He is 26th on the all- time win list of any college men’s basketball coach at any level. There is not a younger coach ahead of him. His winning percentage of .778 is only tarnished by his inaugural season at Muhlenberg. Last year I wrote a story from my point of view about Moore’s first season at Muhlenberg. Strangely enough, I could sense from my very first contacts with him I was observing the infancy of one of the best college coaches that would ever stalk the sidelines. When it is all said and done, Coach Moore could end up with the more victories than anyone that ever coached basketball on the college level. The following is an excerpt from my story on what it was like playing basketball at Muhlenberg College for Coach Moore in his initial campaign;
Approaching the open door way to the gymnasium the sounds from inside painted the picture. Sneakers screeching, a ball pounding into the hardwood floor, the clanging of the rim from an errant shot, and a primal grunt from the rebounder of the misfire. The noise was born from a competitive sense of purpose and resolve. Collectively the sounds had a serious, there’s-work-to–be-done, rhythm to them. The clangor represented individual athletes attempting to demonstrate that they had the tenacity and talents that would somehow fit into the cohesiveness of a team.
There weren’t any roars from the crowd, nor chanting of young girls in mini- skirts. Ten young men ran up and down the court as fast and hard as they could. The scoreboard was not lit and without referees it was up to the participants to call their own fouls. I was walking into pre- season pick-up basketball practice. These sessions always had an extreme intensity attached to them, and this year it appeared the players had raised their focus to an even higher level. The reason had everything to do with the young man who sat alone, five rows deep, in the otherwise vacant bleachers.
His name was Steve Moore and he was a long way from his childhood home of Monroeville, Ohio. I would have thought he was just a student checking out the action. Having seen an article, containing a photograph pertaining to his hiring, I knew it was him. Now seeing him for the first time in person I wondered how a young man of 28, with such a boyish face, could look so weighty. It was 24 hours after Labor Day 1981, many of the 10 guys on the court and the eight others sitting against the wall I had not seen since May. As I entered Memorial Hall, I felt an immediate instinctual need to show, that on this turf, I knew my way around.
After a bunch of handshaking and half hugs I was anxious to get myself in a game,
“Who’s got winners?” Dirk Oceanik made a circling motion with his fingers, “Us five,” The us five was made up of a majority of the starting five of last years’ team.
I looked impatiently at the remaining three,
“I’m with you next.”
Knowing it would be at least a half hour before my team would be ready to take the floor I headed to an open spot across the gym to loosen up. Whether they were or not, I felt the peer of that solitary spectator in the stands watching my every move.
Coach Moore apparently had seen enough basketball for the day and had vanished before I got my turn on the floor. It would be a week before I saw him again at the first pre season meeting of the men’s basketball team. The room above the gym was already filled by the time I made my entrance. I arrived precisely at the scheduled meeting time and the new head coach of the Muhlenberg Mules had already started talking.
” If a meeting is at 7 O’clock that means the latest you should arrive is 6:55, anything after that and you will be considered late,” was his opening.” My only responsibility at Muhlenberg is to coach the Men’s Varsity basketball team. I will guarantee three things that will be true about our team as long as I am the coach: 1.We will be in better condition than our opponent. 2. We will play intense man-to-man defense on every possession. 3. We will be more efficient on the offensive end than any team we play . How many wins that will translate into is an unknown, but the aforementioned will be facts about this team. Practice begins October 15th, between now and then I will be meeting with each one of you formally.” Meeting adjourned.
As the 30 or so basketball candidates passed I remained in the doorway until they had all gone by. Entering my senior year I did feel a sense of entitlement that went along with being an immature, 22- year- old who had an overblown perspective of his relevance. I wanted to be the last person left in the room and leave Coach Moore with a chance to introduce himself to me in a personal way. Realizing the quiet young man was not going to make the first move, I approached him directly with an outstretched hand .
“Welcome to Allentown, how do you like it so far?” No response just a nod of the head. “I’m Rich Siegel, I will probably be the only senior on the team this year.” Still, nothing. I made one more try. “Have you found a place to live?” I sheepishly asked. Finally, he spoke his first words to me directly.” I am staying in Prosser Dorm until I close on my house.” All these years later I still wish I could take back the following two sentences. “Oh Prosser, I know most of the smooth girls over there. Anytime you want me to help you hook up let me know.” Now Coach Moore made eye contact. As I peck on the computer today I can still see the look on his face. It was a posture of disdain, pity, and disgust all rolled up into one scowl.” I am married with two baby girls,” were his last words to me that night.
To be continued….
