Mark Sanchez's cool demeanor

From Last Week's New York Daily News :

You don’t have to be a body language expert to notice that Mark Sanchez has kept his emotions in check the past few weeks. He was the sketch of cool after his 74-yard touchdown pass to Braylon Edwards last week. Moments after firing a 52-yard completion to Santonio Holmes in overtime that set up the game-winning field goal, Sanchez simply clapped. He credited his calm demeanor to the new Bad Body Language fine system put in place by the rest of the quarterbacks.

“It’s a fun thing, but also a good coaching point from (Mark) Brunell,” Sanchez told me. “So I jumped on board right away. It’s really showed up and it’s kept us in some of these games.”

“Sometimes the hardest thing is to fight your emotions and deal with the rollercoaster of the game,” he added. “If you can show that even keel demeanor to the team, that stuff is contagious. When our team can see that from me, it resonates. They know, ‘Hey man, don’t mess with this guy in a tough situation. He’s ready.’”

Sanchez has done a good job of "staying in the middle," with his emotions the past couple weeks

“That’s the kind of demeanor that you want to have and the message you want to send to those guys,” Sanchez said. “Because you’re going to need it late in the game. You don’t want to get too excited off a 21-point lead, because it’s never enough. If you throw three picks in the first quarter, you can’t tank. You still have three more quarters to play. Who knows? These are long games. Crazier things have happened. So it’s just about staying in the middle. That’s the biggest coaching point.”

Manuel’s Positive Energy Ignites Mets

From the NY Times:

Of all the strategic decisions a manager makes over the course of a game, whether calling for a pitching change, switching a defensive alignment or ordering an unexpected dash on the basepaths, there are also the less-nuanced motivational tools to employ.

For Jerry Manuel, who has operated all season under the public scrutiny regarding his job security, pushing his players’ emotional buttons may be his greatest strength.

In the Mets’ 7-6 victory over the Florida Marlins on Sunday, Manuel’s positive outlook was cited as one of the reasons for a triumph that extended their home winning streak to eight games. Manuel has faced some withering criticism this season, but he has also provided some evidence of a job well done, and players were quick to note how Sunday offered a strong case.

With the Mets trailing by 5-0 in the sixth inning, Manuel refused to allow his players the luxury of conceding the game, even though they had overcome that large a deficit only once this season. And even though they had only eight outs left, Manuel remained vocally enthusiastic in the dugout. Apparently, it had an effect.

“I give Jerry credit on that one,” Jeff Francoeur said, “because he was in the dugout cheering us on: ‘Let’s go, let’s go, let’s go.’ ”

But other players, too, have noted how Manuel, despite the pressure he has worked under this season, has never changed his upbeat approach. Whether it is the unusual step of calling the entire team into his office back in May to urge it to stick together, or cheering on his players in the dugout, his upbeat vibe has taken root.

“He’s by far the most positive guy I’ve ever played for,” the first-year Met Jason Bay said, “and I don’t care if you’re playing Little League or major league baseball, positivity goes a long way. It tends to be contagious. That’s no slight to anybody else. That’s just, given the market, the uncertainties, the ups and downs we’ve gone through.

“He’s never wavered on his stance of being positive and standing behind guys. I know it’s easy to get caught up in certain things, but he hasn’t. He’s really been the same guy to us, from spring training until now, and I understand how difficult that is and I respect that.”

Collins’ four years at KU have seen huge growth and change

This article will make you a huge fan of Sherron Collins. Great stuff about leadership and what it takes to be a great teammate. From the Kansas City Star:

OKLAHOMA CITY Several times this season, Sherron Collins has had to tell the Kansas Jayhawks what they didn’t want to hear.

They were winning lots of games, but Collins didn’t like the way they were winning. Teams that couldn’t sniff their talent level were hanging around for too long in games at Allen Fieldhouse. Collins became fond of saying the Jayhawks didn’t have a killer instinct, which felt personal, because everything about this KU team feels personal to Collins.

During a couple of film sessions along the way, Collins, Kansas’ lone senior, would speak up.

“Hey,” Collins would say, “just listen to Coach. He knows what he’s doing, and we’re gonna get better.”

KU staff members could only nod their heads and thank Collins for making their jobs way easier.

“That’s been big,” says Brett Ballard, KU’s director of basketball operations. “As soon as you do that, you’re opening yourself up to getting killed in the locker room for siding with the coach. That means a lot to a coach when your best player believes in what you’re doing.”

Collins believes because he has experienced how Bill Self’s way can work for him. Because Collins openly trusts Self and the Jayhawks trust Collins, they can more easily trust Self, too. It is a trickle-down effect that helps to explain why Collins, despite his scoring average decreasing from 18.9 last season to 15.6 this season, was chosen a first-team All-American by the United States Basketball Writers Association on Monday.

There is a special brand of charisma living in Collins that fans can see only in those very public moments when he galvanizes the Jayhawks to get pumped up with him and then punishes an opponent with a back-breaking run. But on the inside, the KU family feels Collins’ gravitational pull every day.

“He can change the weather with his attitude,” says Barry Hinson, the program’s director of external affairs. “When the weather gets stormy or when the game gets stormy, our guys drift to Sherron. I don’t think I’ve been around a player in all my years of coaching that absolutely not only accepts it but wants the moment of adversity.”

At some point, Self told the player that Collins had this power, this magnetism.

“Coach always says I can change the mood of a room,” Collins says. “I got enough to bring the room up, and I got enough to bring it down. That’s why, in practice, I can’t have a bad day. If I’m not feeling good, I still gotta be up and energized and smiling and talking.”

Over his four years, Collins has developed the ability to make those around him feel comfortable. It has been a process. He needed to feel comfortable in Lawrence first, and that took some time. But now, before each practice and game, the kid from the Chicago projects will bring his teammates into the huddle and utter a simple phrase that shows how his outlook on life has changed.

“Let’s have a good day,” he’ll say.
• • •

Anthony Longstreet knew Sherron Collins had it in him. As Collins’ high school coach at Crane High in Chicago, he’d seen the way five seniors fell in line behind Collins when he was only a freshman.

“When he came in the game, magical things happened,” Longstreet says. “Those guys, they connected, they gravitated. He made it happen, and I knew then, this kid is different.”
For Longstreet, Collins’ recruiting process wasn’t about finding a place where his pupil could star. He wanted Collins in a place that would nurture, nourish and eventually unlock this quality that made him different.

Longstreet chose Self, KU and Lawrence, the quintessential college environment, and told Self everything he would need to know about what was inside Collins, the good and the bad. Socially, the kid could be flashing that heartwarming smile and telling jokes one second and become quiet and withdrawn the next. In school, he’d do just enough to get by, but, unlike many kids from his neighborhood, he always managed to get by.

Longstreet also got in touch with Roger Morningstar, a former KU player whose son, Brady, would be rooming with Collins their freshman year. Roger heard about the life Collins knew in the Lathrop Homes project, and while Collins seemed like a well-meaning kid, Roger needed to be convinced.

“You just want to make sure,” Roger says.

Roger remembers the first time Collins came over to his house with Brady. The boys walked in, and the family’s 65-pound dog, a boxer named Mackie, immediately charged Collins.

“Sherron about freaked,” Roger says. “He stops dead in his tracks, runs back into the garage, slams the door and says, ‘Hey man, I can’t deal with dogs.’ ”

Apparently, Collins had been bitten by a Rottweiler as a child and had been afraid of dogs ever since. Linda Morningstar, Roger’s wife, tried to assure Collins.

“Well, you’re going to have to start dealing with dogs,” she said. “We don’t tie the dog up. The dog is a part of the family, and this dog doesn’t hurt anybody.”

Collins wasn’t going to give up the chance to hang out and eat Linda’s cooking at the Morningstars’ house. It was all so new and fun.

So for the next week and a half, Linda put Sherron through dog lessons. Mackie couldn’t be the boss; Sherron had to be the boss. Linda showed him the treat jar and made him stand still while Mackie sniffed his hand. When Mackie didn’t bite, Sherron petted him. Before long, Sherron was giving orders. Sit, Mackie. Shake, Mackie. Roll over, Mackie.

On campus, it wasn’t quite as easy for Self and company to break through.

Collins was not planning on being at KU for four years, and he felt he should have been playing more as a freshman. He seemed like a bright kid, but he didn’t think academics would be as important as basketball.

But Self had already passed Longstreet’s message along to everyone, including Scott Ward, who is in charge of academic advising for the program.

“Coach saw it really early, saw those characteristics,” Ward says.

Collins showed what he could do as a basketball player, becoming one of the most explosive players in the Big 12 as a freshman. But he didn’t let many people in on a personal level. When Collins was a sophomore and center Cole Aldrich was a freshman, Collins seemed downright unapproachable.

“I was scared of Sherron,” Aldrich says. “I was. I would go into the locker room, and he would say something to me, and I was nervous to say something back. … He was just a hard-nosed kid who tried to bully you a little bit.”

Collins bullied his way through an injury-ridden sophomore year and was a key part of two of the most memorable plays in KU’s national title-game victory over Memphis — the steal and three-pointer that cut Memphis’ lead to four and the pass that gave Mario Chalmers the chance to make the three that forced overtime.

Collins experienced adulation like never before. It came from every direction, and, since he was going to need knee surgery in the offseason, he decided he’d come back for another season. That meant more school, but Collins was OK with that.

“His freshman year and maybe a little bit into his sophomore year, there was just a lot going after him,” Ward says. “To keep his head above water, he had to worry about himself. There was a turning point leading into his junior year where he would always say, ‘I appreciate your help. I appreciate you.’ He really had that sensitive side where he does care.”

After two years, Collins was ready to open up, to start giving instead of taking.

“They’ve engulfed him with nothing but love,” Longstreet says. “Not to say he didn’t get love here, but it was the missing element in his life that could bring out that attribute.”
• • •

Junior year, Sherron Collins had no choice but to lead, and his teammates had no choice but to follow. He was the only returning player who had significant experience, and he was glad to bring along the rest of them. He called them his “young fellas.”

It was easy to lead when he was being asked to score as much as possible. He put the Jayhawks on his back over and over on the way to the outright Big 12 regular-season title (they didn’t even win the thing outright in 2008).

Collins’ big moment came on the road at Oklahoma, which was favored to win the league. He scored 26 points and nailed a couple of NBA-range three-pointers. His teammates started to get it.

“Every time we need something,” Hinson says, “he wants to be the answer. If he can’t be the answer, he’ll make somebody else the answer.”

That wasn’t so much the case last season as it would be this season. Collins came back for his senior year because he wanted his mom, Stacey Harris, to attend his Senior Night, and because he and Aldrich — the goofy kid from Minnesota who was once scared of him — had become close.

If Aldrich was staying put, so was Collins.

“When you got an All-American seven-footer that can go and be a lottery pick,” Collins says, “me coming back wouldn’t be a wrong decision.”

The Jayhawks returned their entire roster and added top NBA wing prospect Xavier Henry, the one piece they’d been missing. In the preseason, Self was hounded with questions. How could he find enough touches for everyone on the No. 1 team in the country?

Self never seemed as worried because he knew he had Collins on his side. During the first two months of the season, Collins had one 20-point game, letting Henry and emerging sophomore Marcus Morris get their bearings.

“A guy like Xavier respects the fact that if Sherron wanted to, he could average 25 a game, if that’s the style we wanted to play,” Ballard says. “Everybody respects the fact that Sherron wants to win more than everybody else. How can you not follow a guy like that?”

Collins exploded for 33 and 28 points in wins over Cornell and Baylor when the rest of the team was struggling. But, for most of Big 12 play, Collins’ outside shot was off, so he had to look out for others.

“Sherron’s very aware of what’s going on around him,” Ballard says. “He’s got an ability. He’s able to read people. He knows when they’re up or down. At times, in a huddle, he’ll suggest a play to get a guy a shot, like, ‘Hey, Xavier hasn’t gotten a shot in a while. Let’s do this.’ ”

Collins rarely stops looking out. He has various methods of keeping everyone happy. With his teammates, Collins will initiate horseplay and joking in the locker room. With his coaches and advisers, he’ll ask them how they’re doing instead of waiting for them to ask him like he would have four years ago.

“He’s always worried about you,” Hinson says.

How far has Collins come? Roger Morningstar is convinced. Roger can’t recall an exact moment when Collins sold him on his personal worth, but it happened around a year ago. Roger had watched Collins’ development as a father with his young son, Sherr’mari, how far he’d come in understanding the responsibility.

“Over time, you get to know a kid,” Roger says, “and Sherron’s like family to us. I’ve just seen it. I’m hard. I’m one of those guys, I want to see it and make sure it’s real. Sherron Collins has the ability to make it without basketball. He can communicate, he’s got a heart, he’s got feelings. Like any kid from that background, he just needs an opportunity.”

Now, it is easy for Roger to see why his son and the rest of the Jayhawks march to Collins’ drumbeat.

“Sherron became a believer,” Roger says. “When you really believe and you’re passionate about something and emotional about it, it’s real easy to convey that. People can read feelings, and I think the way Sherron leads is from the heart a lot of times. It’s the real thing.”

• • •

You can’t beat the real thing. That slogan has sold a lot of soft drinks, and Sherron Collins can only hope it’ll ring true for him during his final NCAA Tournament.

“If we don’t make the Final Four, it’d be devastating,” Collins says. “I think we should be there. I was a big part of the 2008 national championship team, but it’s even bigger now. It’ll mean more.”

A lot of people are rooting for Collins, of course. He has already won more games in a Kansas uniform than any other Jayhawk, and he could become one of a handful of KU players to play significant minutes on two national championship teams.

But to the people who have nudged Collins along to this point, his gang of loyal supporters, another NCAA title would only be gravy. The meat and potatoes of Collins’ story could be seen on Senior Night at Allen Fieldhouse, when the young man held 16,000 people captive with his presence and made them feel something.

“Put it this way,” Longstreet says, “if you had been around Sherron sophomore year of high school and left the country and then came back to Senior Night, knowing what you knew about him when he was a sophomore in high school, you would have thought it was somebody else.”

Collins’ speech had Brady Morningstar, who never cries, according to Roger, bawling on the fieldhouse floor. It had Ward feeling a sense of pride when Collins gushed to Self that everything he had promised had come true.

That promise belonged to Self and Longstreet. After Collins’ speech, Longstreet found him in a hallway, and the old friends embraced.

“This is the vision that I had for you, Sherron,” Longstreet told him. “Even when you didn’t see it, this is the vision I had for you.”

Rondo fast becoming Celts' leader

Jackie MacMullan has an excellent piece on Celtics point guard Rajon Rondo. As I wrote about earlier this week, Celtics coach Doc Rivers 'gave Rondo the keys' to the team during the Game 2 118-115 victory over the Bulls. Rondo has had it tough since he teamed up with the Big 3 (Garnett, Allen, Pierce) due to the fact that since each player wants the ball, only one of them gets it:

Sometimes during the regular season when Allen gestured for the ball, Rondo stared right through one of the best pure shooters in the game to feed Pierce on the opposite wing because he knew he needed to keep the Truth involved. When Garnett established position in the post and signaled he was open, his arms flailing for emphasis, Rondo blithely glided past him, exploiting the seam in the defense the double-team on KG created.

Those decisions did not make him popular, but they made him respected.

"He earned our trust," Pierce confirmed. "When you think about it, [his job] is probably a little intimidating. I can't imagine being a second- or third-year player and trying to divvy up the ball between three All-Stars."

Rondo had always been confident, but has maturation process has taken time. His body language was a huge problem:

Two seasons ago, before the banners and the plaudits and applause, when Rondo was in charge of a team that won just 24 games, he'd throw a no-look bullet and when it was dropped out of bounds he'd roll his eyes in exasperation. If he set up a shooter for the open jumper and it clanged off the rim, the shooter was subjected to the Rondo stare, a look steeped in disdain and aggravation.

Rivers hauled his supposed floor leader into his office and asked him, "Do you know your teammates hate playing with you?"

Rondo displayed no emotion, but his coach's comments left him struggling to breathe.

"The point guard has to be the guy that brings energy to the team," Rivers chided him. "You can't be the guy that sucks it away. Your moodiness is affecting us. Change it."

Rondo retreated to his apartment to process Rivers' rebuke.

"It was a reality check," Rondo admitted. "I wasn't positive. If I threw a pass they didn't catch, instead of saying, 'Let's get the next one,' I'd make a face. It wasn't what I said. It was more my body language."

This was not a new refrain. When Rondo signed with Kentucky, coach Tubby Smith salivated over the potential of a "world class athlete" who he believed could clear 7 feet in the high jump or challenge the collegiate record in the 100 meters.

Smith's preseason drills included sprinting a series of 200-yard dashes. Rondo developed a habit of running at half speed, then casually turning it up a notch at the finish line.

"His teammates were working so hard, and at the last minute he's blowing past them," Tubby said. "They knew he was better. But when he wouldn't show it every time ..."

The kid wouldn't subscribe to Smith's walk-it-up style of play, so he often highjacked the tempo of the game, pushing his own basketball agenda. He set a school record for steals, but had no perimeter game and no patience for the mistakes of his peers. He was inconsistent; brilliant one day, barely engaged the next, alternately delighting and enraging his teammates.

"If you want them to respect you, you have to make them better," Smith said.

"But coach," Rondo complained, "they keep dropping the ball."

"Rajon," Smith answered, "then figure out a pass they can catch."

Rondo's indifference left Smith commiserating with his assistants late into the night. "We'd ask ourselves, 'How can we get Rajon to go beyond?'" he said.

Soon Ainge and Rivers were posing the same question. It all came too easily for Rondo, and it wasn't until the arrival of the Big Three that he met his athletic match. KG, Pierce and Allen demonstrated the one trait he lacked -- consistency. He dutifully (and silently) monitored their habits. He noticed each of them came to the arena at the same time every game day. Allen had a litany of specific rituals to prepare himself, including a pregame shower.

The point guard's own pregame routine now includes five showers a day: when he wakes up, after shootaround, after his nap, after he completes his pregame warm-up at the Garden and after the actual game. Before Garnett went down, Rondo also began joining KG on the bench in the pregame huddle, waiting until Rivers declared "Let's go!" before standing up. It was something Garnett had done since he arrived in Boston.

"Then one day I look over and there's Rondo," said Allen. "We laugh about it, but you know what? He's learning, watching all the time. Some guys try to get through this league by the seat of their pants.

"But he's become much more aware of what his team needs," observed Lakers point guard Derek Fisher. "He's learned that sometimes passing up an open shot is the best thing he can do.

"That's what separated him from other guys this season. He's fine with 8 points and 10 assists or 18 points and 10 assists. That's maturity."

Toughness, Body Language, Leadership

I've posted a couple of articles before on Chester Frazier and the Illinois basketball team. Here is an excerpt from an article after a tough road loss at Big Ten power Michigan State:, where Frazier had an emotional talk with his team:

“Chester watched that tape and took it to heart,” Weber said. “This is his team this year. He wants to make sure everyone gives maximum effort and stays together, and it wasn’t that we didn’t play hard. We won the play-hard chart by double digits. But we still have problems with the defensive end down the stretch, rebounding, block outs and putbacks. … It comes down to fighting through it and giving your best effort the entire game. That’s all I think he was alluding to.”

Frazier certainly showed the toughness that he preaches to the rest of the team. After being undercut and landing hard on his tailbone and back, he went to the locker room. When he returned, he headed straight to the scorer’s table to check into the game, seemingly without asking the coaches first.

But there were signs that other players were lacking confidence as facial expressions and body movements reflected frustration with the disappointing turn of events.

“It’s baffling to me,” Weber said. “At Purdue we had great body language, great focus, great poise. I told them, ‘This is why we do all of those competitive drills at the end of practice.’ We still are young and fragile. When guys don’t play well offensively, we seem to have a tendency to hang our heads.”

Weber said he already has started thinking about who will bring Frazier’s toughness once the senior guard is gone.

“I hope somebody starts getting that toughness,” he said. “With the new guys it will be hard as freshmen but a couple have tenacity to them. Can they do it as a freshman and be a leader? I don’t know. Jeff Jordan (Michael Jordan's son) has made some strides to do that. He’s going to have to get where he becomes better conditioned to go harder like Chester does if he’s going to play that role.” …

Body Language

Found this quote in the archives from two years ago about former CU player Anthony Tolliver. Quote from Nick Bahe:

There are a handful of guys," Bahe says, "whether you're in an office job or playing basketball, that walk in, you know, 'God, I don't want to be here today.' Shoulders slouched. Anthony always walks in with his head high, chest out, excited about being here. When your leader's doing that, it's definitely contagious."